Eighth grade trips to someplace historical are a rite of passage in our country. Growing up in the Southwest, I didn’t realize that for most kids on the other side of the country, this meant a long bus ride to Washington DC for an up close and personal history lesson. This wasn’t really an option for us desert kids. Oh, we got something it was just very different yet just as culturally significant. For us, a young and enthusiastic math teacher piled a bunch of squirmy 13-year olds on a bus and took us to visit her Grandmother. Let me explain.
STRESSCAKE 