It turns out that what students call “the last day of school” and what teachers call “the last day of school” are two completely different things. Yes, one may be correct in calling this past Tuesday the last day of conventional school, but teachers and administrative staff carried on until this Friday, eagerly awaiting their well-deserved pay checks. I found myself back in the building for which a solid 180 days of my year were spent, and seemed to be strolling down memory lane. As I peered down each hallway, I was reminded of various events that took place, and of all the happy memories associated with them.

One of the more interesting and notable things that brought back a memory was walking down the hallway where my United States History 1 AP  class was. This classroom was perhaps my favorite in the days when school was still in session, and I can remember eagerly racing to this 6th period class to listen to the teacher’s lectures. Mr. Jackson became perhaps one of my favorite instructors, and I soon became quite fond of his lecture-driven class. He gave life to historical figures that had been long dead for hundreds of years, and even managed to present humor along side serious, academic analysis. I don’t know whether it was his class, or just a simple realization, but that was the moment when I discovered how much I wanted to be a historian. Since I was about 5 or 6, I can remember having an intense interest in history, and Mr. Jackson’s class seemed to demonstrate just how entertaining and worthwhile it could be.

Getting back to the story, I was walking down this wing, in a semi-menlancholy state, and saw the classroom I had adored for so much of the year. It had been gutted, stripped of all its WWII memorabilia, and looked thoroughly abysmal,  leaving just a sad looking classroom without any character.

Oh, Mr. Jackson’s class, how I miss you so much :(

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