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Cheryl Oreglia

It was more than forty years ago, when I met this tall gangly fourteen year old, it was my first day of high school, and I’m wearing jeans. This was only a few years after girls were allowed to wear pants in public schools, I was feeling radical, and pretty damn cool. I walked into Spanish class and slipped into an open desk. The kind of desks where the seat, desk, and storage are all connected. I scanned the room for a familiar face and found none. I noticed the

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