I was 15 years old. I was in the 9th grade at Cullen Junior High School in Houston, Texas. At one in the afternoon I had just returned from lunch. I was in the algebra class of Raul Munoz. He came up to me and told me that President Kennedy was dead. I sort of laughed and told him that he must have been kidding. He got very sober and pale. He assured me that he would not kid about such things. Right then I knew that the president was dead. We all went into shock. No class work was done. We were all glued to televisions watching the sad drama unfold. That weekend I doubt if anyone went out to eat or to a movie.