I can still close my eyes and see an image of my sixth grade teacher, Ms. Buhl. She taught language arts and social studies. I didn't pay much attention in either of those two classes, and my grades reflected it. She had tried to help my grades and the grades of some of my friends by giving us extra help. We had always rejected her help but she continued to try to help us.
             I remember on incident clearly. My friend and I were walking home. We had extra help that day, but we decided to skip it. We could heard our names being called behind us but we just figured it was just our imagination. We thought it was just some kids yelling to each other behind us, so we ignored it. As we walked further the voice got closer. We began to recognize it but didn't really believe it. It was our Ms. Buhl. At the time we thought it was a bit "freaky" that our teacher would run after us like that, so we just sped up a little and didn't look back. Eventually I think she gave up.
             The next day she had a private conversation with us. She wanted to know why we missed extra help. We lied and said we forgot. At the beginning of the year we had gone every day and when we missed it we told the truth, we had forgotten. At the end of the year, though, we began to grow tired of going and so we began to lie. I don't think she believed us that we forgot, but she went on as though she did. Ms. Buhl went on to tell us that she had run down the street after us. We glanced at each other, confirming that it wasn't just our imaginations. Then we again lied to her and said we hadn't heard her. She looked tired but she wouldn't let us know that. With the same bossy tone she always seemed to have she just gave us more extra help.
             I felt really guilty. It was then that I realized how hard Ms. Buhl was trying to help us. I looked back on how I was treating her, and how through it all she stuck with me a...