Looking back on the days that I used to have to run into the halls at BJ to get my brother after school, I don't know what I was thinking. As I entered the large front door, I couldn't help but think how amazing it would be when I was in 7th grade, and I got to walk through those doors as a student. I couldn't wait until it was my turn to mess around with my friends, and joke with the teachers. Nothing like that ever happened at my school. Why wasn't elementary school this cool!?
             Finally I made it to the 7th grade, and although I never got to be at BJ, it was just as good to walk through the doors at the J. I had what I wanted from school. That close community feeling, the relationship with everyone, the feeling that everyone really cared about you. When I would cry, teachers would comfort me. They would involve themselves in whatever it was that was causing these tears, and try to solve my problem. It wasn't until later in my journey that I realized they had overstepped boundaries that certainly weren't meant to be overstepped. I looked up to these teachers when I started; they were the best there could be. Most of them seemed totally dedicated to nothing but our learning. The example they set appeared to be the appropriate one.
             Now, I wonder how I could have been so foolish and naive. What was I thinking? Why was I under the impression that a teacher could involve herself in your personal business without even asking? Where did I get the idea that whatever they said, even on a more personal level was right? Why did I brush off the comments they made, even when I knew that they weren't appropriate for any adult to be making to a student? The things they said were enough to ruin a teenager's self esteem forever, so how did I make it through?
             It was only through experiencing what was right that I learned what was wrong. I found out that there are teachers out there - rea...