Why I Had a Dead Cow in My Shed for Two Years
When I was a first year teacher, I was incredibly eager to please. I still have a a tendency towards it, but at that point in time I took it to extremes. The band room at the private school I worked in used to be a morgue when it was a hospital. There were only two teachers in the basement, myself and the art teacher, Barb. It was a miserable place to be. The doors didn't work properly, it flooded twice with rain or freshwater while I was there, and I was only there one year. I had the better end of the flooding deal. Barb's room had flooded more than once with sewage, and my understanding is that it's flooded with sewage since I left, too. One day, Barb and I were chatting. We talked a lot since we were so isolated. I had talked to her before about the type of art my grandmother does, which is painting western scenes on bones. I mentioned in an offhand manner, "Wouldn't it be cool to get a whole skeleton, have a different kid pa...