Clinton Mills There’s a moment, somewhere in the middle of marking a set of papers, where you’re reading and every word you encounter is the word you needed it to be. The smile comes before the thought does, and there’s this shake of the head that is really a nod… because you’ve both been working toward something and they’ve got there. Finally. You scribble something in the margin. And the next morning you find them in the corridor. Morning, Mr. Mills. Morning, young man. Oh,
