I still remember the day that we were given our own mailbox at the school. The secretary came and found me and said, “Lisa everyone is looking for you when you’re not here and need a place to leave notes for you. So, I’ve made you a mailbox.” She took me down the hall to the teacher’s workroom. You remember this room when you were in elementary school. The one with the big loud laminating and copy machines, the paper cutter that will take your arm off and those glorious large rolls of colored paper. I was always enamored by this room as a child and just sure I would immediately be struck by lightning if I ever dared to step a foot inside the door.