I was in first grade in 1981, the first year that Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” efforts were entering public schools. I remember sitting in Mrs. Bussell’s class, all of us kids gathered around her as she talked to us about marijuana cigarettes. She held up a laminate that showed a marijuana leaf and a joint. Always eager to please, I poked my hand up and waved it around.

“Yes, Ariel?” I was almost twitching with anticipation. I loved participating in class.

“My mommy smokes that!” I peeped, beaming with excitement. I don’t remember what poor Mrs. Bussell said in response, but it wasn’t bad, whatever it was. I had no idea I’d said anything wrong, until I went home that afternoon.

Following my mother around the house, I told her about how today was a good day at school, because I had been able to participate in class. Following her down the stairs of our log cabin (the one my parents built together in 1977), I explained what I’d said, and watched as she slowly turned around.

“Ariel, I don’t think you should talk about that with your teachers. Mommy smoking isn’t something that everyone…agrees with, and we could get in trouble. Ok?” She didn’t yell at me (my parents never yelled), but the message was clear: getting in trouble was bad.