I was 13 and on an eighth-grade class trip to Winnipeg, Canada. This was the first trip I had ever taken out of the United States. Actually, this was the first trip I had taken out of my home state. I remember my social studies teacher telling us all the things we were going to see and learn. I also remember the ninth graders relaying how much they enjoyed “the trip” the year before.
As I was watching my two Siberian huskies, Sydney and Jasper, run, explore and just simply exhibit their “zest for life” out in the back yard (and, yes it was in the snow, snow, snow, as of last week), one would not guess that they are respectively nine and 10 years old.
My brother and I looked at the end of the school year very differently. He was so excited for summer vacation and time away from school and I was saddened by the fact that it was summer vacation and I would not be in school.