- The Stirrings
My love for my female teachers reached a whole new level in middle school: I started having dreams about them.
The dreams were innocent enough. Of course, I never mentioned them to any of my friends.
In one dream, my science teacher was my gymnastics coach, spotting me on the uneven bars, her hand on the small of my back.
In another, my language arts teacher and I sat on top of a hill together, gazing at the stars.
I cherished these dreams. I especially loved recalling them during the day, when I went back to being just one in a room of twenty-five other students.