I was called into the school counselor’s office one day during my first year of middle school. So, twelve years old, going on thirteen. For forty-five minutes, she drilled me for cheating on a test. I was shocked. I denied it, I cried as a twelve-year-old boy would. She offered me tissues, silently waiting for my confession.
Camping, for reals.
Camping, for reals.
Camping, for reals.
I was called into the school counselor’s office one day during my first year of middle school. So, twelve years old, going on thirteen. For forty-five minutes, she drilled me for cheating on a test. I was shocked. I denied it, I cried as a twelve-year-old boy would. She offered me tissues, silently waiting for my confession.