It’s fitting that the school where I cut my journalism teeth would be the same school where I would deliver the first IVHigh presentation earlier this week.

In the fall of 1991, as a senior at Central Union High School, I was introduced to something that would become my passion, my career and my life — writing, news, newspapers, journalism. I joined Central’s longtime student newspaper, The Shield, and took my first steps toward becoming a 20-year fixture here at the Imperial Valley Press, where I serve as local content editor and supervise a team of reporters.

On Tuesday afternoon I spoke to English instructor Michael Hobbs’ fourth-period journalism class and promised them one thing: you’ll be seeing a lot of me, almost once a week, nearly every week until June.

On Thursday, I visited Southwest High School and Aja Hood’s sixth-period journalism class, and next Friday, it’s Erasmo...

No matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t make calling my son “Buster Bluth” a thing. It’s got no context in my house because I’m the only one who’s ever seen “Arrested Development,” let alone obsessed over every episode.

But “Motherboy,” well, even those who haven’t seen the awesomely brilliant and hilarious comedy series can appreciate that nickname, because it sounds like what it is — a mama’s boy in the making.

That’s my 2-year-old son, “Motherboy,” the apple of his mom’s eye and who will likely be the centerpoint of some weird mother-son orbit/relationship long into the future. “Motherboy XXX” is the name of a particular “Arrested Development” episode. For my purposes, though, it’s just a comic little handle to yell out at my boy when he’s whining or snuggling up to his mama.

Unfortunately, I’m bringing more to it than a wink and a nod. I see adult mama’s boys as freaks...