Looking back at my years in junior high school from the view of a 79-year-old woman is filled with bittersweet memories. I couldn’t wear pants to school despite living in Minnesota. My music teacher used to play the piano at the movies before “talkies” arrived and class consisted of singing the old songs of her time. Learning to stay clear of my homeroom teacher, “Spitting Katie”, who had a space between her front teach which resulted in her spraying on you when speaking. Helping my boyfriend set type for the school newspaper which required setting each letter in a wooden frame that had separations for each column and had to be then tightened by huge handles that kept the letters in place. We then mounted this frame into a machine that resembled a thrashing machine which then individually printed each page by the operator raising and lowering a crank. The most vivid memory of my junior high school last year is being my English teacher’s “teacher’s pet”. He also organized the lunchtime activities in the school gym. My girlfriend and I were invited by this teacher to join him in the audiovisual room above the gym to play records for those dancing in the gym. My girlfriend was far more savvy about the ways of the world, but when the teacher wanted to dance with me I had no idea what his groping my buttocks and his arousal meant or have the courage to confront this authority figure. Being very naive for my age, I was afraid to refuse his continued invitations. Only now do I know the effect those impressionable years had on me.