For 18 or so years of my life, Sundays involved getting up early and going to religious education classes for children. Even after I started high school and was too old to be a student, I continued assisting in or teaching the classes, since my Mom ran the program. It's been 7 or 8 years since I taught one of those Sunday morning classes, but the memory, or the habit, seems to be embedded in my subconscious. We just started the winter term at the ALC, and my new schedule has me teaching just one class on Saturday mornings. It's a Junior's class, so my students are about 12 or 13 years old. It feels like old times! From the moment I woke up this morning, I couldn't shake the feeling that today was a Sunday. At first I couldn't figure out why, but I really think my new schedule is stirring up old childhood memories of Sunday mornings gone by. I wonder if Morocco has powdered jelly doughnuts I can enjoy after class?
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