I was 34 when I went back to high school. I returned as a reporter, visiting schools all over the country, and eventually the world, as I wrote about education. On my new beat, almost everything felt familiar: The cafeteria still smelled odd, not bad, not good. The main office still felt like a place to avoid. In the classroom, the black-and-white analog clock remained at its post, just like the pencil sharpener, God love it.

There was one surprise, though. Something I’d forgotten, though I can’t imagine how. I am talking about the one emotion that dominates the experience more than any other, the signature sensation of high school. I’d forgotten all about the boredom.

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