I was 15 when I met my first real teacher, Mrs Geurin. I didn’t know her well at the time but I thought I hated her.In her first class, she asked us to write a piece about an influencial person, place or memory. I chose to write my lake house, a topic I had already written about and received a vast amount of praise for. Put simply, it was the place that my parents met and fell in love.This teacher knew about my original piece and she was not happy. Throught the school year,we would pass each other in the hall, never saying a word to each other.It was not until February of 2012 that we spoke at the most unusual of places, my father’s funeral. At first, I was angry that she showed up. Did she even care? She didn’t even know him! I stood, watching her give a deep bow to my father’s coffin, completely confused!It was not until she approached me that I realized she was crying even harder than I was.“Kali,” she said, “I am so sorry. My own father passed away just three weeks ago, and I completely feel your pain.” I was shocked. I understood that she had also lost her father, but I didn’t see the connection between us just yet. She had rejected my writing. That was not something that I was willing to so early forgive.A couple of weeks later, she went into my study hall and placed an envelope on my desk.In the letter, she told me her father, also had cancer, also passed away in six months’ time and he was her best friend too. It was not just this letter, but this act of kindness that taught me my,greatest life lesson. Losing has taught us both how to appreciate life. For that lesson, I am always grateful. 39. Why did the author hate Mrs. Geurin at first?