It all started with marshmallows. There was a distinct hierarchy on the bus and all middle schoolers were expected to comply: sixth graders were the peons – they sat at the front of the bus, eighth graders were high and mighty – they ruled the back with all the maturity of 13 year-old. Seventh graders and other misfits filled out the remaining seats. (Funny that now that I’ve grown older and wiser, the back of the bus makes me queasy.) Continue reading