This is a confession, of sorts, one of which I am not proud.
All through elementary school and through most of junior high, I was an A and B (mostly A) student. Beginning in the 9th grade, the grades began to slip — well, “plummet” would be a better word.
My coaches, teachers, and, especially, my parents converged on me from all sides demanding to know what was wrong with me. If drugs had been around at the time, I’m sure they would have suspected that I was doing drugs. They would have been wrong. Read More»