My Catholic school days taught me a lot, albeit little I was supposed to learn. For one thing, I was quite a freethinker by parochial school standards. I had wild, wild thoughts and too often even blurted them out, which I am certain thoroughly endeared me to my classmates and to my teachers.

Indeed, my attempts at being true to myself and to my intellectual pursuits were so universally well-regarded that by the end of sixth grade, I had become afraid to raise my hand. The bullying from classmates I learned to deal with, but the teachers were another thing. My classroom silence lasted all the way through college.

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