I stood outside the front door of my old high school and stared at the front doors. Memories assailed me and I remembered graduation day. My friends and I swore that we were never coming back to this place again. And yet, here I stood, ready to walk up the front steps of Everett Armstrong High School. Again. Only this time, they couldn't keep me here.



Heading inside, I went into the main office. The receptionist, an older lady with graying hair looked up and gave me a warm smile.



Good afternoon. May I help you?



I found myself smiling back at her. Hi. I was wondering if I could see James Parker. He teaches music here.



The woman glanced at plastic covered schedule. Well he's teaching right now. He will have a planning period at 2:00. Why don't you have a seat? The bell will be ringing in a few minutes...