Dear Readers: This is the 8th episode of the series: HELP, I WANT TO GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN. If you are new to this series, you may want to start with Chapter One–IF THEY’D HAD HAMBURGER HELPER BACK THEN. Thanks for reading.


Shirley and I found a parking space on the brightly lit McKee Building on the UNC campus.

The building was buzzing with students—many of them older students—taking night classes which ran from 7pm to 10pm on Wednesday nights.

I don’t remember what class Shirley took. I’d been admitted to the Department of Special Education and my class—The Psychology of Exceptional Children—drew a number of teachers getting their Master’s in Special Education.

I’d chosen Special Ed as my focus because I felt a deep empathy for parents of children who faced challenges in their lives.

I loved the excitement of learning and meeting new people in class. I found that a couple of my classmates were teachers from Loveland. We exchanged phone numbers and made arrangements to include them in our car pool.

On the drive home from class, Shirley and I both concluded that we liked our professors and the small size of our classes.

Only recently did I give away my first textbook—The Psychology of Exceptional Children–with its avocado green cover—which I poured over during the next week.

The page of the book are covered with crayon scribbles as our daughter Kathy—about 18 months old—enjoyed sitting on my lap while I studied and she crayoned.

The textbook represented my first step out of the kitchen.

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