Igot my first pair of glasses when I was in ninth grade after I noticed that I had to squint to make out the numbers Miss Kemp had written on the chalkboard. I can still feel the coolness of the windowless classroom and the momentary panic that ensued when I considered the possible consequences of getting even a single digit wrong in the equation we had been given to solve.

The joy and, more acutely, the relief I experienced a few weeks later after a visit to the ophthalmologist in Savannah and the delivery of my first pair of glasses completely eclipsed any self-consciousness I may have experienced. Pulling the glasses out of their case at the beginning of each class and replacing them as the bell rang to move to the next period was something like Christmas morning, so happy was I to be

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