It was a beautiful September morning in 2007 and I had just gotten out of Teacher's College. Of course, everything was “beautiful” and “wonderful” when I entered the large stone building at 7:15 in the morning. I like to look at my life in retrospect; I know my only purpose for getting to school so early was to be able to relax and start the day on a peaceful note. The hidden purpose was to avoid students and other teachers for as long as possible. Why? Earlier in the summer I had taken a job at Our Lady of Justice High School, in one of the little corners of the big city of London, Ontario. Now, I can't figure out what I was doing when I took the job, but looking back I realize that I just wasn't a good fit for the Catholic School Board. The only thing I remember thinking on my first day of school was that Our Lady of Justice wasn't a good fit for the Catholic School Board either. Aaron Gilfoyle didn't know it yet, but he would enter the one and only classroom outside of his brief high school career where he wasn't being taught by a devout Catholic. It was one of the few problems with being hired by Our Lady of Justice, as they felt I was spiritually lacking. Father Gerald, a robust person, stated frankly: “Here at Our Lady of Justice, we are proud of our entirely Catholic teaching staff and would like to maintain this tradition of dedication.” Unfortunately for Father Round, I like to think of myself more as a "to each his own" spiritual leader, but my job depended on the fact that I grew up in a Catholic family and was educated in the Catholic system. I needed a job, and maybe God saw that the Catholics at this school needed to take the heads off... middle of paper... holes that had been bothering him, brought them all together and formed a gang. Every gang has a corporate ladder and Aaron was at the top, using my four pillars to maintain his position. With all his genius and knowledge, he had forgotten that you can't fight a war with knowledge alone. Someone had brought their knowledge to bear, in the form of a gun. Needless to say, Mr. Gilfoyle chose to move in with his family, perhaps believing they were overdue for a fresh start. I'm not sure what happened to Aaron, other than the fact that his wound healed and he was able to return to whatever school accepted him after his gang-related leadership experience. Overall, after that first year, I swore to myself two things. The first: be perfectly clear when giving advice. The second: give my advice only to mentally stable students.