Men in my family used to call me booger. It was a term of endearment in our white trashy sort of vernacular.

Doesn’t sound that way with the teacher, though.

I have a few words for him.

Better stuff:

Mom taught 2nd grade for 32 years. It was ( clearly) her favorite grade.

I’ve known a lot of second graders.

They are exquisite. Smart enough to get jokes and understand stuff but innocent enough to believe in good. And Santa.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.