Who were my teachers?

I keep coming back to that question, but not because I’m reflecting on the man who tried to teach me algebra or the English teacher who made me memorize a long list of books and authors.

It’s an interesting question when you’re taking inventory of your life. I look back on so, so many years of living and wonder how I retained all the little things I just seem to know.

I know the difference between a claw hammer and a ball-peen. I can drive a stick shift. I love saying the word onomatopoeia ever since I learned what it means. (I still look it up to spell it.)

This seems trivial now but all these tidbits are in my bag of knowledge. I have no idea how much knowledge I have. I just pull stuff out when needed and there are times it actually surprises me. I wonder, how

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