Dear Mary Lou,
I have been awaiting for this little piece of paper to grace me with its presence and tell me my destiny for the semester. It seems that you have determined that I will be observing the very student body that I enjoyed the least in my own youth: adolescents. I've been charged with the task of being in a room with seventh, eighth, and/or ninth graders, thanks to you. Now, I will admit that I requested them, reluctantly, just to ensure that I am either, a) completely capable of stomaching the hallways reeking with unbalanced hormones, b) capable to stop a fight in my future classroom (most art supplies can be deemed weaponry), or c) that junior high students can in fact jump my tiny stature after school if they don't like hearing that gang insignias replicated into Sharpie marker tattoos are not appropriate art assignments. This will truly be the test of my patience, will, and whether I could in fact qualify for American Gladiators (its quite similar, really). So, thanks again Mary Lou Fulton for my current field experience placement. My life's work had yet to be complete without it.