My wife and I recently visited a friend. We reminisced about times gone by and about mutual acquaintances. Other couples came and went as the day went by, but it wasn't until Mr. Murphy appeared that my day became interesting. As he walked into the backyard and began to introduce himself, his voice took me back to a second floor classroom some twenty years before. I began to recall vividly the cramped seats that were our prison for those ninety minute classes. I recalled the overpowering smell of perfume worn by all the teen aged girls and again that voice that let everyone know that tardiness would not be condoned in his classroom. That chance meeting with Terry, I could now address him by his first name, made me recall so many other classrooms and teachers from my time at Frontenac High School. I remembered those classes that made my hand cramp as I frantically tried to copy what was being written on the chalkboard, and the classrooms that faced east and became blinding on those clear and sunny days. The teachers who filled those classrooms also came to mind, especially those that would embarrass students when homework wasn't done or single a student out if he/she answered incorrectly. But it also brought the rest of school back to mind. There were stuffy hallways, cramped with students frantically trying to get to that next class, that always seemed to be on the other side of the school. There was the fresh smell of paint that seemed to hang in the air no matter what time of year it was. There were also the distinct smells that emanated from the boy's change room and the sickening odours that came from the cafeteria that made one wonder how anyone could stomach the food. All of these memories are of course from a carefree time in my life, one in which I had no job, no dependents, no stress and, of course, no worries. I think back to this time and my reactions are mixed I long for a time of personal freedom with my whole...