Honest Mistake Of A Working Mother Or Why My Middle School Years Were Awkward And Shy

When you look up nostalgia in the dictionary, there is pictures of people visiting their kindergarten classroom. When I went back to good ol' Countryside Elementary today to find the halls smaller, drinking fountains shorter, and faces of a bubble monster on every soap dispenser, I ventured in to a nearly foreign room that was, once upon a time, Ms. Eranie's AM Kindergarten classroom. The coat room that once looked as big as the classroom itself, I realize only measures about a grown-person's arm span and I hit my shin on the cubby hole I once reached up to get at. The center of the room brought back some happy memories of story time and learning about three letter words, but also a particular episode of story time. Mother Dearest had volunteered to come read a book to the class, and came in with my favorite book, "Good Night Opus". Having your mom come into read to the class was the biggest deal since Lucky Tray Day except with more vulnerability. The class who was known for being particularly critical, approved the book. But when she came back a few weeks later, you can imagine my horror when she pulled "Good Night Opus" out of her briefcase. She started. I blushed. They laughed. Oh, how they laughed.