That was the year I was deeply, madly in love with Andy Gibb. Shaun Cassidy was SOOO fourth grade, and my classmates who proudly toted his album to "Record Day" in music class, where we were allowed to play one of our own records, were totally like babies for still liking Shaun Cassidy. Andy Gibb was way cuter and more mature.
That was also the year that it was the in thing to have a Goody comb sticking up out of your back pocket, with which you were able to carefully "feather" your bangs at any given moment.
I had the comb. I had the album. I didn't really have the feathered-hair thing down pat for a couple more years.
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