Meeting my wife, Part 2

It was February 5, 1988, and I had just started teaching at a high school in Winter Garden, Florida. Scared, nervous, and fresh out of graduate school, I felt like a stranger in a strange land as I walked the corridors and classrooms of this huge high school. The only refuge I found that first week of teaching was in the teacher’s lounge, and my comrades in arms sensed my anxiety and quickly took me under their wings. As Friday slowly approached, I noticed a sense of hopefulness permeate the room. “It’ll be Friday soon,” Nancy told me, “and we all LIVE for Fridays.” She smiled, “Especially Friday afternoon Happy Hour after school’s out!” Everyone cheered, and Tom, another teacher, said to me, “Naturally, you’re invited. We have to make you an official member of the ‘Tempestuous Teachers Society.’”