"Take out your pens and paper, its time to take notes," spat the frail old woman from behind her seemingly enormous podium. These were the infamous words that Karen Etheridge was hated for by the end of the first day of school that year. These were the words that interrupted the stories of summer excursions to friends we hadn't seen over the summer. No other teacher had started class that day. No other teacher had given homework that day. No other teacher had assigned an essay due in a week. Coincidence not that the due date of the essay fell on the first day of her first of many two day tests that she was infamous for. No other teacher was hated by every senior like she was. How is it then I can only describe her as the best teacher I have ever encountered in my thirteen years of schooling you may ask. Well that's simple; I loved her because she taught me something more than any other teacher had ever taught me before. Many of us can say we have had many teachers who have told us to be true to ourselves, and don't care what others think, but Karen did not stop there. She not only told me, but she taught me how to be true to my self and not to worry about the insignificant people taunting me in the background, well she guided me along to path for me to learn those lessons myself. And among other things she taught me to love to write and to love what I am writing about, otherwise it doesn't matter what you write about.
             An oddly pair we made roaming the halls together, a young man who always wore a buttoned polo shirt from either Areopostale, Hollister, or Banana Republic, and a weathered old woman who looked like she had made her extremely long and draping skirt from old window curtains he would have found in his grandmothers house. With her solid colored, button-up, knitted sweater no matter what the temperature was, she strutted down the wide halls parting students all around her, especia...