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Showing posts from April, 2016

Spanish Class With Mrs. Chaw-I Mean, Mrs. Shaw

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Attending high school in Houston on a daily basis was hard for me as a teenager.  I wanted to hang with my friends down on the bayou and smoke cigarettes instead.  My grades never suffered but my interest in school did.  So, every once in awhile, I would "hop" class (this is what ditching was called by the kids) and play the rebel.

My favorite teacher at Sharpstown High School was Mr. Wizenand.  We called him Mr. Wiz for short. He taught biology and it was my best subject.  There were only two kids who aced his year-end final, myself and another boy.  I stayed up late the night before the test, studying from a legal-sized paper full of diagrams and notes.  Being the pack rat I am, I found it in a box of high school mementos not too long ago and proudly remembered the effort I put into the class and the satisfaction I felt when I was handed the graded result.  I never hopped Mr. Wiz's class.






Spanish was another subject I took for a few years in school.  The first year I…