In the mathematics education program at the University of Jeromeville, students were assigned to two classrooms for the year, one for students on grade level and one for students below grade level. After spending the first couple of months observing and assisting the classes, we would gradually begin taking on more responsibilities in the class, so that by January we would be doing all of the teaching and lesson planning for those classes. I was doing that now for Basic Math B with Ms. Matthews first period, and for geometry with Mrs. Tracy third period.
Starting at the halfway point of the year, each of us in the program added a third class to just observe and assist, but with no plans to take over that class. So in addition to the other two classes, I was now attending Algebra II with Mr. Bowles fourth period. This kept me at Nueces High until around noon, an hour longer than I had before. On my first day in Mr. Bowles’ class, I noticed that a few of the students already seemed to know who I was, presumably because they had friends in one of my other two classes. For example, one blonde freckle-faced girl from Mr. Bowles’ class, Stacie Edwards, was best friends with Kayla Welch, one of the more memorable students from Mrs. Tracy’s class. Stacie seemed to take an instant liking to me.
“Mr. Dennison?” Stacie asked. “Can you help me with this? I don’t get this at all.”
Today Mr. Bowles had demonstrated how to graph a linear function in three dimensions. I remember being Stacie’s age and seeing a lot of my own classmates struggle with this, mostly just because of the difficulty of drawing a three-dimensional surface on two-dimensional paper. “I remember how to graph lines,” she said, “but why is there this third axis going diagonally?”
“It’s not diagonal,” I explained. “It’s three-dimensional. There are three variables, x, y, and z, so we need three axes in three dimensions. Imagine it coming out of the paper.” I pointed to Stacie’s pencil pouch and asked, “Can you grab me two pens or pencils out of there? I want to show you something.”
“Sure,” she replied, handing me a pen and a highlighter. I picked up the pencil she already had on her desk and held the three writing implements carefully in my hand, arranging them mutually perpendicular to each other. “These two are the ones that look like a two-dimensional graph on the paper, and the one that’s drawn diagonally is this one.” I awkwardly gestured with my few free fingers to the third axis, coming out from the other two at a right angle.
“Oh!” Stacie exclaimed. I see! It’s like when you draw a box, like this, and you have to make these sides diagonal so it looks 3-D.” Stacie sketched a three-dimensional box in the margin of her paper.
“Exactly!” I said. I reminded her how to find the intercepts on each axis, and then I told her to connect these three points to make a triangle. “Instead of a line, like a two-dimensional graph, the graph of a linear equation in three variables is a plane, a flat surface that goes on forever. And it’s the flat surface that contains this triangle. So if you imagine that this triangle goes on forever in all directions, then any point on that flat surface, you can plug into the equation and it’ll be true.”
“I think I kind of get it now!” Stacie said, smiling. “Thank you!”
I looked up and continued walking around the room. I noticed that Mr. Bowles had been watching our entire interaction; he smiled and nodded.
The bell for the end of fourth period rang a few minutes before noon. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I said to Mr. Bowles.
“Yes!” Mr. Bowles replied. “Good job today, Greg.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
Although this varied widely from place to place, back in my parents’ generation in this part of the world it was common for a high school to have an open campus. Students were allowed to leave campus as long as they made it back in time for class, so students would go off campus for lunch sometimes. By the final years of the twentieth century, open campi were less common, because of concerns over student safety and students misbehaving in the community. When I attended Plumdale High as a student in the early 1990s, it was a closed campus, although it would not have mattered much since Plumdale High was in the middle of a field, two miles from the nearest restaurant.
Nueces High still had an open campus in 1999; a few fast food restaurants were within walking distance from the school, and some older students would drive farther into town to lunch. As I walked to the parking lot, I saw groups of students leaving the school for lunch. Tim Rich and Matt Hernandez, two lovable loudmouths from my class with Ms. Matthews, saw me going to my car. Tim asked, “Where are you going for lunch, Mr. Dennison?”
I was confused for a minute, because I was not going to lunch. It took my brain a few seconds to process the fact that Tim was unaware of my schedule as a student teacher. “I’m not going to lunch,” I said. “I’m only here in the mornings. In the afternoons I have classes back at Jeromeville.”
“What classes are you taking?” he asked.
“Classes where you learn how to be a teacher!” Matt explained.
“Yes. That’s exactly it,” I said. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Enjoy your lunch.”
“Bye, Mr. Dennison!” Tim shouted as he followed Matt to his car.
I took the bus to campus that day, since it would be dark by the time I got home. The bus arrived around 1:30, giving me half an hour to kill before my class. “Woo-hoo-hoo, it’s all been done, woo-hoo-hoo, it’s all been done,” I quietly sang to myself as I walked across the street from the bus stop to the Memorial Union. I had heard that song in the car on the way home, and it had been stuck in my head for the entire bus ride. I liked that song. A few days earlier, Mom had sent me an email, just catching me up on her last couple days, and she had written, “I heard this new song on the radio the other day. I forget what it was called, but I liked it, except in the chorus there’s this annoying ‘woo-hoo-hoo’ part.” That was all I needed to know exactly what Mom was talking about; I replied, “That song you heard, could it be ‘It’s All Been Done’ by Barenaked Ladies?” Mom replied in her next email that that was in fact the song she was thinking of, and I laughed that I knew it just from the lyrics “woo-hoo-hoo.”
I grabbed a copy of the Daily Colt with the intention of reading it and doing the crossword puzzle before I had to walk to my class, but secretly hoping that I would run into some friends instead and be able to hang out with them before class, which happens sometimes in the Memorial Union Coffee House. When I got there, I looked around, wondering if I was going to have to sit at a table with a stranger, since I did not see any empty tables at first glance. As I walked across the room, scanning for an empty seat, I spotted a familiar head of curly blonde hair sitting alone at a table, eating a bagel. With my luck, she was probably saving the table for some kind of private meeting, but it was worth asking.
“Brianna?” I asked. “Can I join you, or are you saving these seats?”
“Greg!” Brianna replied. “Go ahead! I’m meeting Chelsea at 2, she has class until then, but you can stay here until then.”
“That’s perfect,” I replied. “That’s when I have class.”
“Great! Did you have class this morning?”
“I have student teaching every morning,” I explained. “At Nueces High.”
“Oh, that’s right! I knew that. I forget sometimes, you have a different schedule.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m old. I graduated.”
“Oh, come on,” Brianna chuckled. “You’re not that old. You just graduated last year. You’re, what, twenty-two?”
“Yeah,” I answered. Brianna was nineteen, a sophomore. I wondered sometimes if I was too old to be hanging around younger students, but so far it had never seemed to be a problem.
“How long is the student teaching program?” she asked. “Are you done after this year?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “During spring quarter, we’re gonna learn about putting together portfolios for job applications. And there will be a career fair here on campus, where school districts around the state will have preliminary job interviews.”
“That’s exciting!” Brianna took a bite of her bagel, and then said, “I saw Jed Wallace a few minutes ago. He sold me this bagel. He’s your roommate, is that right?”
“Yeah. He started working here at the beginning of winter quarter. He seems to like it.”
“Are you guys going to live together again next year?”
“We haven’t really talked about it. Our house is owned by an individual, not one of the big corporate apartment complexes, so we don’t have to follow the same schedule that the others in town follow, where everything goes up for lease March 1 and they’re all full by March 15. Jed is your year, and Brody is a junior, so they’ll still be in town. Sean is graduating in June, so we’ll have to fill his spot. And as for me, it’ll all depend on whether I get a job close enough to commute from Jeromeville. I might, I might not. Hopefully our landlord will be okay with me not knowing until May.”
“I hadn’t even thought of that, you looking for a job. So it sounds like you want to stay in Jeromeville if you can?”
“I could go either way. I really like it at Nueces High, and if they have a job for me next year, I’d like to stay there. But that’s no guarantee. I have a community here in Jeromeville, and I’m involved with enough things at church that it feels like home now. But I’m not gonna limit my job search to here. Maybe I’ll find somewhere I like better.”
“That’s a good idea. Keep your options open,” Brianna said. “Chelsea and I are going to live together next year. That’s what we’re meeting to talk about. My roommates this year are making other plans for next year, and some of hers are too. I hope we can get a house, and not have to live in an apartment again. We’ve talked to Morgan and Jill about looking for a house together. We might have room for more than four, depending on how big of a house it is.”
“That would be nice. Good luck with that.” After a lull of a few seconds, I asked, “So how was your weekend?”
“It was good! Didn’t do much. Just caught up on studying. And laundry. How was yours?”
“It was good. I was at the De Anza house yesterday. They had a men-only football championship game party.”
“I heard about that. What was up with that? Why was it only for men?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t make the rules. And I didn’t really care who won, Denver or Atlanta. I just know I was excited to watch the game with those guys again. Three years ago, it was on the weekend of the pro football championship that I first met Eddie Baker and the housemates he had then. That weekend changed my life.”
“Aww. That’s sweet.”
“Yeah. Now that I think about it, I think Eddie and John Harvey are the only ones from that house who are part of the De Anza house today. And they didn’t live on De Anza then. They were on Baron Court in south Jeromeville. A lot of JCF groups lived right near each other that year, on Baron or around the corner on Valdez Street.”
“I see. Is that why there was no X-Files watch party last night? Because of the men’s football party?”
“Not just because of the party, because of the game in general. X-Files wasn’t on last night at all.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“So are you done with class today?” I asked her. “Just waiting for Chelsea?”
“I wish. I have English at three.”
“You’re still gonna get home before I do. Monday is my long day of class. I have my student teaching seminar at 2, and then after that a three-hour class on Reading In Secondary Schools.”
“Reading? But you’re gonna teach math, right?”
“Yes. This is a required class for secondary teachers of all subjects. Students have to read in every class, so we learn how reading affects all subjects.”
“That makes sense. Did you say three hours?” Brianna asked, incredulously.
“Yeah. So I’m on campus until 6:00. I only have this class once a week, though. I don’t know why they didn’t do three one-hour classes or two hour-and-a-half classes, like literally every other class ever. But I don’t make the schedule.”
“I would probably fall asleep in a three-hour class, unless it was, like, a lab or something.”
“This is the first time I’ve had a three-hour class that wasn’t a lab. But there’s a snack break halfway through, so that’s nice.”
“That’s a great idea!” Brianna exclaimed. “Does the professor bring the snacks, or do you have to bring your own?”
“The professor brought the snacks the first week, then everyone had to sign up for one future class meeting to bring snacks to share. My turn will be next week.” I trailed off, then wondered out loud, “I wonder if there will be string cheese this week.”
“String cheese?”
“The second week of the quarter, the first time students brought snacks, someone brought string cheese. It was such a huge hit with everyone that every class meeting since then, someone has brought string cheese. It randomly became a tradition.”
“That’s so random! I love it! I wish I had a class where I got to snack on string cheese!”
I looked at my watch and noticed that it was time for me to leave for class. I said, “I should get to class now. I hope you and Chelsea figure out your living plans.”
“Thanks! Have a great day! I’ll see you Friday at JCF?”
“Yes! If not sooner.”
“Of course!” Brianna waved as I stood up; I waved back as I walked toward the exit.
I opened the door and stepped out onto the Quad. I saw another familiar face, short with brown shoulder-length hair and blue eyes, walking toward me, toward the door I had just exited from. “Chelsea!” I called out.
“Hey, Greg!” Chelsea replied, smiling and looking up. “How are you?”
“I’m just headed to class, but I saw Brianna in there. She’s waiting for you.”
“Oh, good! We’re gonna talk about rooming together next year.”
“That’s what she told me. That’ll be nice. I’ll see you Friday? At JCF?”
“Yeah! I’ll probably be there.”
I continued walking across the grassy Quad, along a row of decades-old oak trees with branches soaring above me, stepping on the remains of acorns that had dropped months ago. I enjoyed my conversation with Brianna. She was cute, and friendly, and as far as I knew, for reasons I did not understand, she did not have a boyfriend. At least there was no guy that was always around her, as far as I could tell. She seemed like the kind of girl that would be popular with guys. I thought about hypothetical future conversations with her as I walked to class.
I finally walked into my front door around 6:20 that night, so full of crackers, cookies, and string cheese that I did not even bother making dinner. Jed was sitting at the desk in the large bedroom that we shared. As soon as I sat down and turned on my computer, he said, “Guess what happened at work today?”
“I was talking to Brianna today, and she said she went through your line. But I have a feeling this is something else.”
“Yes, something else. A guy reached into his pocket to pay. He was trying to make exact change, and he apologized, because he thought he gave me a Canadian quarter.” I nodded, knowing now where Jed was going with this. “After I rang him up, I said, ‘Oh, by the way, that wasn’t a Canadian quarter.’ The guy goes, ‘Huh?’” Jed reached over to the non-Canadian quarter, still sitting on his desk, and dramatically flipped it across the room to me. I carefully caught it in mid-air and looked at it.
The United States Mint made some changes to the design of the quarter-dollar coin for 1999, and Jed and I were talking about this a few weeks ago. Every year from 1999 through 2008, the design on the back of the quarter would change every ten to eleven weeks, with a total of fifty different designs being minted in the upcoming ten-year span. These fifty different designs would represent the fifty states of the United States. I looked at the shiny, unscratched 1999 quarter that Jed had just flipped to me. The front had the same bust of George Washington that I had seen on quarters all my life, but some of the mottos and printing normally on the back of the coin had been moved to the front, and the date of minting was missing from the front. The back of the quarter said “Delaware 1787” at the top, with the date of minting, “1999,” at the bottom. The inscription “Caesar Rodney” appeared on the back, next to a figure of a man, presumably whoever this Mr. Rodney was, riding a horse. Above the horse’s hindquarters was the inscription “The First State.” Since Delaware was the first state to ratify the 1787 Constitution, the same Constitution still used today, Delaware’s quarter design was the first one minted, with the other twelve original states to follow in the order that they ratified the Constitution, and the rest following in the order that they were admitted to the Union. Canada’s quarter was the same size as a United States quarter, with a caribou on the back, so it was understandable that Jed’s customer, unaware of the recent changes in United States coinage, might have mistaken Caesar Rodney’s horse for the Canadian caribou.
“Nice,” I said after admiring it for a minute. I flipped the quarter back to him.
“And we’re gonna get forty-nine other cool designs over the next ten years.”
“I know!”
“Who was Caesar Rodney? Do you know?”
“I’ll look it up. I was going to dial up to check my email.” I connected my computer to the dial-up Internet, but instead of going directly to my email, I opened a Web browser and went to the website for the U.S. Mint, the government agency responsible for coins. I clicked on the link for “50 State Quarters” and scrolled down to read about the designs. “Looks like he was a signer of the Declaration of Independence,” I said. “He made a long ride on horseback from Delaware to Independence Hall in Philadelphia just in time to vote in favor of the declaration.”
“That explains the horse,” Jed remarked.
“Yes. Hopefully I’ll get one soon. I’ll start paying for everything in cash so I get change back. I don’t see change every day at work, like you do.”
“You’ll find one soon. And if I start getting a bunch of them, I’ll save one for you.”
“Thanks!”
A few months later, I was browsing at the now-defunct Borders Books, the one that had been so controversial when it was first planned. I found the same series of blue cardboard coin collecting folders that I had used as a child, with slots to save one coin from each date and mint mark. The publisher of these had made a new one this year for the state quarters; I bought it that day. By then, I had saved several of my own Delaware quarters, as well as a couple of Pennsylvania quarters.
I graduated from the University of Jeromeville last June, and many of my friends from my year who also graduated had moved away. But I was in the unusual situation that, last year, as a senior, I made a lot of friends with freshmen. That was how I knew Jed, and also how I knew Brianna and Chelsea. A large group of freshmen got involved with Jeromeville Christian Fellowship that year, and most of them would be in Jeromeville until at least 2001. So if I did end up getting a job within commuting distance from Jeromeville, I would still have some sense of a group of friends here in Jeromeville for another few years. And I was involved enough at church that, at the time, I thought I would have been perfectly content to stay in Jeromeville forever. Of course, life never seemed to work out exactly how I expected, but those are stories for another time.

Readers: Do you collect anything? Tell me about it in the comments.
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