And so would my Kindergarten teacher. My parents had to take me out of morning Kindergarten and put me in the afternoon class because mornings and I were already at odds when I was 5 years old.
And so would my 7th grade general music teacher. It was the first class of the day, and I arrived just a minute or two late at least 90 percent of the time. As the rest of the class sat silently in their riser seats, I would walk in, unpack my notebook and walk to my seat with a captive audience. I'm more embarrased about that now than I was back then.
And so would my early morning seminary teacher. Let's just say we didn't get to know each other very well.
And so would my high school zero-hour goverment teacher. I racked up enough tardies in his 7 a.m. class to spend several days in the "pass room" (in-school suspension). He had no mercy.
And so would my college French professor. My mom and I thought it would be a good idea for me to sign up for this 8:00 class my freshman year, to help me "get going" every morning. Not a good idea. He seemed to enjoy saying mean things about me in French, which he assumed I didn't understand. I wouldn't understand now, but I did then! I passed, but probably just so he wouldn't have to deal with me again.
I could go on, but I think you get it. Becoming a morning person (if I choose to accept the mission), could prove to be an exceptional challenge.