Bruce Cameron

Editor’s Note: The following column was originally published in 2009.

When I was in third grade, I discovered that boys and girls are different. It’s valuable information.

It started with art class, though based on my work maybe it would be more accurately called “smear color on paper” class. The assignment was to use acrylics to create something worth hanging in the hallway, which for me was going to be impossible unless I painted a sign that said, “EXIT.”

We were given poster-sized paper, tubes of paint that tasted terrible if you were dumb enough to eat it (in my defense, the tubes didn’t c...