In third grade, I had a woman named Miss Fulton. She had been Miss Fulton the previous May and she was supposed to become a Mrs. Somebody over the summer. But when we showed up in September, she was still Miss Fulton. Before I was in her class, I had never seen her up close, but it seemed she had gotten about ten years older that summer. There was something else strange about that year. We actually started in August. …
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