Mike Head, my freshman World History teacher, was the human embodiment of kindness. Consistently clad in his argyle sweater vests, polo shirts, and bright blue New Balance running shoes, Coach Head would roam the halls of George Walton, his shiny bald head like a beacon in a sea of students. Every day, Coach Head would make a point to greet and converse with students and faculty, brightening their days. Coach Head challenged the conventional history classroom; often encouraging the class to stand on top of the desks to “see things from a different angle.” In the second quarter of the school year, he brought a coffee maker into the classroom. Almost daily, we would be late to our second period classes due to throwing around a tiny multicolored