If you were like me, you'd get so flustered you'd forget what you were going to say. Or maybe all you wanted was the teacher's attention and you hadn't had anything to say in the first place. Remember how it felt when teacher nodded at your answer and said, "That's right, Patsy!"? The warm glow that soaked into your skin like maple syrup over hot pancakes? I see it play out on the kids' faces today: either the dropped eyes of getting it wrong, or the sickly smile of forgetting what you were going to say, or the sparkling eyes and proud grin of getting it right. Volunteering in a classroom--especially in a K-5 school--brings back all the pain and joy and confusion and lightbulbs-going-off and frustration and silliness and embarrassment of childhood. Any unhealed issues rise up and hit you between the eyes. And, if you're lucky, sweet memories do the same. Such a vulnerable time of life. It's amazing we survive it.