Seventh Grade Afternoon, Act I:
My fourth hour class is finally settled. Finally. Three phone calls for sick, hurt and suspended students, their books, and their backpacks to be sent to the office. Hormones raging, voices raising, pencils sharpened, restroom needs taken care of, and journals slowly finding their way to desk tops. I am launching into the vocabulary for the day and have just flicked from the first to the second slide of my PowerPoint presentation.
And the phone rings.
"Ramsey's Crazy House," I announce with a hint of frustration.
"Um, yeah. This is Lisa from XYZ Publishing," a young voice chirps....