When I first came up with the idea of The Little Middle School, it seemed a bit wild. Me, a music teacher, “homeschooling” a dozen middle schoolers in every subject?

But I had the time (sort of). I had the space: a music school that was empty prior to 3:00 PM each day. What would be the harm in exploring the concept just to see what would happen? If everyone thought it was silly, I’d let it go.

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If you’re reading this right now, do you have any idea how grateful I am?

I write because I write. It’s an important practice for me regardless of what happens afterward. That said, sharing my work is also an important practice, and that’s only possible when I have someone to share it with. I truly appreciate that you are willing to spend your precious time and attention on a piece that I created.

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When I was in high school there was no social media. There wasn’t even email.

So how did I maintain relationships with the kids from other schools that I met at music camp? Or my friends who went away to college and elsewhere?

We wrote letters back and forth. Actual letters, on paper.

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Among Aimee Mann’s many beautifully poignant songs, there’s one called “Save Me,” that includes the lyric, “Can you save me from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they could never love anyone?”

And there’s a similar sentiment expressed in “Ray,” from her 1995 album “I’m with Stupid”: “I think I know another lonely exile when I see one/And you appear to be one.”

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A friend of mine, a stay-at-home mom, is locked into a perpetual battle with her career-oriented sister-in-law.

“You’re so lucky that you were able to stay home,” says the sister-in-law. “We never could have afforded it.”

My friend seethed. “It wasn’t luck!” she told me. “We sacrificed. She could have, too.”

She wants her sister-in-law to acknowledge the nobility of her choice to stay home with her kids. The rightness of it.

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