I walked alone down the barren and cold hallways of John Adams High. It was the first day of the rest of my life in this small Georgia town. The walls were a faded salmon pink and littered with posters of upcoming events. I searched almost effortlessly for the main office, afraid of what was to become of me in this new school. The sound of my footsteps echoed across the old tile floor until I stood in front of the secretary's desk. A nice old lady sat perched in an office chair but quickly stood to welcome me. After a short conversation she led me to my first class room. The teacher was a man in his late forties who had an almost comforting smile. A history buff and some what of a short man he seemed very inelegant and kind. He introduced me to the class...