Actually, that's probably not a strong enough statement.
As one of those girls who never fit in with the "in" crowd, I hated elementary school with a passion. I used to have wonderful dreams about my mother waking me up in the morning and telling me I no longer had to go to school because it was destroyed in a huge tornado or earthquake or some other natural disaster.
The building was a fallout shelter for nuclear war. Mother Nature would have had to put in overtime to bring that three-story brick beast down.
Early next year, my dream will come true. Having fallen into disrepair, the neary 90-year-old building will be razed in early 2009.
Ironically, I'll be sad to see it go.
It's not like I won't miss it either. I work less than a block away from where the old school sits, and the sight of it greets me every morning as I pull into the newspaper parking lot.
I'm not sure why I'm sad to see it go.
Perhaps it's because since the day I left high school, I slowly began to find myself, establish my own identity and realize that no one I thought was in was really ever that in.
Maybe it's because it's only one more reminder of what the speaker at my high school graduation, former NBA star Dolph Pulliam, said, "You can't go home again."
And sometimes, that's all I want to do.