You Can (Sort of) Go Home Again

image.jpegMy family lived here (155 Surmont, Los Gatos) for one year when we first moved to California in the 70’s. There were no bushes and only newly-planted trees at the time, and both the top floor (visible), the floor below it, and shrubs on the slope were open to the street. It’s located at the border of Los Gatos and San Jose, very near Union Middle School, where I attended EdCamp San Jose. Afterward, I took a nostalgic drive to the old neighborhood and my former junior high, now called a middle school.


I’m probably not alone in having less-than-idyllic memories of 8th grade. It was hard enough being an outsider at a school where everyone else had already attended for a year, but I was also an academic odd fish. I rewrote an Agatha Christie novel into a screenplay and performed it with half-hearted “volunteers.” I aced all the grammar tests. I read voraciously. My English teacher finally made me his “teaching assistant” to give me something to do while he delivered curriculum to my classmates.

Happily, teachers today are able to differentiate more effectively than back in the day. I love a motto that I’be heard but whose attribution I forget: “I want to be the teacher I needed at that age.”


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