My high school years were not great. Adolescence for a pudgy, self-esteem-challenged kid in an all-boys public school was a uniquely fraught experience. Central's legacy of producing high-performing, college-ready students imposed daily pressure to perform, from teachers, fellow students and parents. In hindsight, I think I suffered depression, but didn't know it was called that. Yet, there were teachers who made a difference. A couple of them, English teachers, inspired me many years later, Mr. Corasick, with his search for "universal truth", and Mr. Barsky, who encouraged us to write from our hearts. One German teacher, Mr. Williams, showed compassion and patience for a student whose terrible stutter made reading aloud torture. My chemistry teacher, Mr. Siler, made it his business to make sure I didn't fail chemistry. Two teachers, Mr. Harbison and Mr. Dove, defied striking colleagues and crossed a picket line for a week. They took a lot of shit for being "scabs", but they did it for the students and for their principles. And, for teaching the single most important skill I retain and use every single day, I thank Miss Minnie Wolin, who taught typing in ninth grade. Here's an interview I did for the Central High School alumni journal's Winter 2019 edition. I appreciate them seeking me out and maybe I should go visit. I haven't been back since graduating in 1972.