If Dante Alighieri had been a high school publications adviser, I am fairly certain he would have reserved his inner circle of hell for something yearbook related. That little epiphany hit me about 6 p.m. on the Friday before Spring break.
The Friday when I was supposed to have submitted my progress report grades.
The Friday when I was supposed to have gotten all my travel stuff ready for my trip to New York City with three newspaper staffers to claim their Columbia Scholastic Press Association Crown award.
The Friday when I was supposed to have gathered together all the wonderful, insightful, intelligent things I wanted to say for my New York City session.