Thanks Mr. B

Click to read The Sound of Thunder

   My sixth grade teacher read to us everyday after lunch for 20 minutes. I remember the smell of blacktops and youthful sweat as I laid my head on the cool laminate desktop and listened. 

   He only read one book that year. It was huge. Maybe 500 or 700 pages. The book had a black cover with orange and pinkish lettering across the front. The Stories of Ray Bradbury. I loved those stories. I still remember the rocket flying father who, like an interstate trucker, was always gone leaving his son at home to watch the sky trying to catch a glimpse of his dad's ship between the twinkling stars. The dinosaur hunt that went wrong. The girl locked in the closet as her classmates danced in Venus' 8 hour summer.

                          Memories such as these are what school is all about.