Rich Desrosiers
Take me back …
I loved school, and if time travel existed, I would go back to those childhood years.

And not even for any do-overs, although a few would be nice. Mostly just to relive the freedom of being a kid.
Pick a grade, any grade, and there are fond memories. Safety Patrol in elementary school. Junior high basketball. High school hall passes. Sure, I was a scrawny, bespectacled dork—like today, but without gray hair—but it (mostly) was great.

What boy wouldn’t want another chance to throw a dissected worm at screaming girls in biology class? Or join forces with other smart-aleck teens to convince the math teacher we had the correct answer to a challenging word problem and he was wrong. (He wasn’t.) Or experience a teachers’ strike that included a union member spray-painting “SCABE” on the car of a picket-crosser. (Shocker: The guilty party was a phys ed teacher.)

I’ll also never forget independent presidential candidate John Anderson. Our government teacher had our full attention that day. Not because we were enthralled with his explanation of the two-party system, but because he habitually tapped his chin in thought. On this day, he did so with an uncapped felt-tip marker in his hand. After about 10 minutes, he unknowingly had given himself an ink goatee.

Fire up the flux capacitor, set it to 1980 and fasten your seatbelt!

Alison Matas
Breakfast on the roof …
One of my favorite memories from high school is the time a bunch of us decided to sneak onto the roof of the school and cook breakfast up there. It was during our “senior week,” so we had some graduation-related rehearsals but didn’t have to be in our classes. We acquired a griddle, bought eggs and pancake mix at the grocery store and lied to a teacher to get the key we needed. We figured that since everyone who was up on the roof either was speaking at graduation or was ranked as one of the top 10 students in our graduating class, we wouldn’t get in trouble if we got caught—and we were right. I was really well-behaved in high school, so that rebellion felt huge to 17-year-old me.

Kelsey Reinhart
Sixth grade camp …
One memory from school that always makes me happy is sixth grade camp. I wasn’t big into camping, but the group activities and entertainment were pretty fun.

One evening in the dining hall, all of the students performed different skits of sorts. My cabin was tasked with a silly one. We were separated into pairs. Each pair would have one person sit on their knees with their hands behind their back. The other person would be behind them, also on their knees, and slip their arms through the front person’s armholes. The person behind essentially was the front person’s arms but couldn’t see what they were doing. All I remember is trying to feed someone cereal and it spilling everywhere. The dining hall erupted in laughter, and I thought it was the best thing!

The other pairs used shaving cream, brushed their teeth and combed their hair—all of which were funny, as well.

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