By Thom Tracy My classroom was on the first floor, next to the nuns’ lounge. But her sobbing wasn’t coming from the lounge. I could hear it through the auditorium door at the end of the hall. I peeked through the glass toward the top of the swinging oak door leading to that room. She sat in the red chairs—where we sat when we had an assembly. Behind the chairs is where Mike O’Shannon got on his knees undetected one other day and peed downhill for a minute-and-a-half to let th