Then I used the GI Bill to attend college—not my father’s alma mater—a state university where I studied education and earth science. I was hire... for a position in a middle school and, once again, my father viewed me as a failure. “Can’t even teach in the big leagues; I guess you’re not smart enough for high school,” was the first thing he said at what was supposed to be a reconciliation meeting—my grandmother’s funeral. I turned on my heels and walked away, never to return. Fuck him! Fuck. If there are any, um, props you need? We can probably find storage space if your locker isn’t big enough.”“Oh, I’ve never had a dedicated space. I might bring in a bowl of pebbles, that sort of thing. I’ll want a supply of tissues.”“Tissues we have. Just ask Ms Harrison.” She saw the expression on my face and laughed, “Her bark is worse than her bite. Oh, by the way,” she pointed to a discreet button by the window-sill. “Panic button, if you feel at risk of assault, or if you need help urgently. More

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