Many of us hold our childhood memories in high regard; the joy of seeing your father come home from work, the sense of security one would feel when held in the protective embrace of a loved one, but one of the most fondest memories I cherish of my childhood, is that of my mother reading bedtime stories to me.
After a tiring day at school, I get out of my car with 2 bags of books in one hand, while holding my students’ tests closely to my chest in the other. I awkwardly attempt to unlock my apartment door but fail miserably as my belongings slowly slip out of my hands.
Books and papers fall on the floor as I make one more attempt at unlocking the door. I’m home at last! Now, to get to work again!
The first thing I do is prepare a warm mug of chocolate milk, turn on my computer and check my books. Have to start correcting those essays and tests as quickly as possible.