On this day, I was in high school, the owner of the biggest crush on the guy that was all grown up mature 22 years old. He was the student teacher for one of science classes. I did not have the class, which is a good thing- because my drool would bel over the desk. The student teacher was my big time one sided love affair with a guy I had not grown up with.
Gorgeous was he. Blue eyes. Crocked smile--kinda. Blond hair, honest to goodness rosy cheeks. I smile at the thought even now. And he liked me. Ah, sure, looking back I was really just another high school girl, who thought the student teacher was nothing less than an entire galaxy of stars. I want to believe the student teacher thought I was special. He would talk to me in the hallway, or study hall--when he patrolled it, or if I walked past his classroom, which I did infinitely many times, and pause so he could see me in the window--and he'd wave. I would melt.
Oh wow--I wish now I'd been older and smarter. What do you know at THAT age?
Anyway, today was final day at our school. All the girls were pretty much in tears. I wasn't tho. Why? Because he said the next day he would come over and give me a special good-bye. Before you get all in the gutter--nothing like that. I remember on that Saturday we sat and talked. I told him I wanted to be a commercial photographer and he said he hoped I would. Never once did I think about terra cotta pots then.
It's funny, how after all these years, I still think about him on this day. I wonder if in some wierd way so I enter his mind? It was all so innocent. It truly was. Maybe that's what makes it special. On his last day at my high school, he was treated so like a rock star.
Maybe the teenage girl in me still wishes he would have eventually made me his solo act.
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