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Your field trips were less “let’s go look at art” and more “let’s go support this politically right wing person who compares abortion to genocide”. It was weird.

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Where is the call to action to stand behind members of society that are constantly under attack for the sole reason that they are different? Where is the social justice? Why is there no call for life from the various Christian hierarchies?

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Apparently, The Post required not one, but the combined efforts of two journalists to write this hackneyed and generally useless 459-word article, which centers around the school I attended for the first 18 years of my life, Horace Mann

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Suffice it to say, your school likely erupted into the world’s least-coordinated episode of Maury, complete with widespread speculation about who the father is, as well is what is going to happen to the mom once the kid is actually born.

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There was no uniform required at school; no need, I guess, since everyone already dressed the same in Duck Head shorts and Polo shirts.  The boys wore loafers. The girls wore pristine white Keds. I never uncovered the mystery of how they kept their shoes so clean. I suspect they bought a new pair every week.