By the time I entered high school, I had given up on society altogether and I was filled with rage over having to deal with mom's continual suicide attempts. It was the height of the Viet Nam war and racial tensions were high. It was the first year my high school started bussing in black kids (desegregation). It was an interesting introduction to people of another color.

I resented all authority figures because they had always turned their backs on me when I cried for help with my mother. Teachers were even worse - they accused me of being lazy and stupid. It was hard to get excited over math and science when my biggest concern was wondering if I'd go home to find my mother dead - and how big the mess would be. One teacher told me to stop staring at the clock because every second that passed by was a second closer to my death. Gee, lady, thanks for getting my mind off of death.

I had one teacher who taught shorthand, and I despised her clueless enthusiasm. At the end of the year, she told me "Kathy I'm going to give you a D because I know you need the credit, but promise me you won't take Shorthand II next year because you don't have what it takes." I was so insulted, I stormed out of the class, swearing under my breath.

I realized then the only way I could escape from my hellhole was to focus on my education.

I spent the entire summer practicing shorthand. My friends helped by dictating the newspaper to me. At home, I practiced with my radio. That is why I know the lyrics to all the songs of the 60s-70s.

I signed up for Shorthand II. When I walked into the classroom, you could almost see steam coming out of my teacher's ears. I fooled her though. Not only was I her star student, I qualified to take a college-credit career training course while in high school graduated with honors

I always wanted to find her and thank her, but the school didn't know of a Miss Hall. I mentioned her again when I was registering my son for high school, and a woman said "OH, you mean Mrs. Hill! - she's right over there.

I walked up to her with my son. She looked at me funny and said "I had you, didn't I?" When I told her my name, her face lit up and said "MY SUCCESS STORY! I tell my students about you every year!"