My son came racing home, threw his bag into a corner, tore off his uniform, and proceeded to break out into a whirlwind dance. I looked on bewildered, wondering what had triggered off this exuberance. Where was the lad who usually dragged himself in and collapsed in a heap, clearly proclaiming his exhaustion to one and all? We were expected to be deeply respectful of the harrowing day he had had in the torture chamber called 'school'!That’s when he joyously declared, “Mom! Holiday time! Letâ...

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