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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.”
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