i was in 6th grade, and my teacher was mr mcguire. he was probably around 30 at the time, but as a kid, i wanted so badly for this man to like me. i remember that i was fairly intimidated by him, since he seemed to favor the boys in class who were sporty and athletic. which i was not.
i don't remember much more of him, though i remember overhearing a conversation my mom had with my sister after visiting with mr mcguire during parent-teacher conferences. something to the effect of mr mcguire asking mom if she realized that i was different? mom reported that she acknowledged that i wasn't interested in the same sorts of things other boys my age were. mr mcguire wondered why i didn't have an interest in those things, particularly sports? obviously, my mom didn't have an answer for this.
that's about as much as i recall of the conversation. i remember, though, how i felt afraid to face him again. that, and, some sense of relief that now, maybe, i wouldn't be expected to be like those others my age. that's a strange combination of feelings.
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