I was thinking about what Labor Day used to mean to me this morning as I sat by the lake. I taught elementary school in the early 60's for 8 years and Labor Day meant the end of my glorious time off. I always went back to the classroom somewhat reluctantly, that is until the first week was under my belt. And then it all felt comfortable again. As a kid I can remember how conflicted I felt about Labor Day. I both wanted to go back to school and dreaded finding out who my teacher would be. The anxiety I lived with in childhood shadowed me for most of my lif[...]
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