January 21, 1997. First Day of English Class
I strode into the classroom, intent on getting a front seat in the classroom. I had worn a tight, form-fitting, construction-orange T-shirt full of swirly designs. My denim shorts came mid-thigh, flattering trim legs and a petite stature. My bosoms were voluptuous and my complexion flawless. I wore white Keds canvas shoes that I fastidiously kept clean. My hair--long, sun-kissed, and freshly washed with White Rain shampoo--graced my elfin face in dry, natural waves. I felt energetic and enthused for class. I sat down at the closest available table in Room 251. The class was full of noise that I couldn't decipher. I opened up my notebook, uncapped my black pen, and sat anxiously ready to take notes. The professor walked in a little while later. He was preoccupied, bespectacled with large glasses and wore a tight-lipped expression. I studied him carefully, wondering of his classroom expectations. "My name is Dr. Bruce Wayne Hawkins," h...