As a student in the Honors English program, you get used to up-tight, boring teachers rambling on about grammar and what makes a good thesis. So walking into my 10th grade English room, I was surprised at what I saw — an upbeat red-head with cat-eyed glasses. She introduced herself as Mrs. Whitehaus -- which, by the end of the year, would shorten to Whitehaus.
When I took my seat and she started taking attendance, I got nervous. Being a one of two black kids in the Honors program, teachers were more than surprised to see me sitting in their classroom. I’ve even had teachers ask me if I was in the right class. I figured this year wouldn’t be any different.
“Ms. Montague.?” she called out.
“Here.” I raised my hand and waited for the double take, the checking of the roster, and the inevitable sigh of confused acceptance, but none of that came.
“Hm, Montague? Like Romeo and Juliet?”
I looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”
“Ooo groovy!” 
I sat there shocked. Groovy? What kind of an English teacher uses the word groovy? An excellent one, as I would soon find out.
As the year progressed, the class began our unit on Julius Caesar. I wasn’t super excited to read yet another Shakespeare book, but I loved Julius Caesar--not because of the plot, but because of her classroom activities.
Mrs. Whitehaus reserved the role of Soothsayer, the character that warns Caesar of his death, for herself.  We read scenes of the play out loud in class. When the Soothsayer had lines, Mrs. Whitehaus in full character would practically scream “BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH!”
At the point in the plot where Caesar is assassinated, she had us reenact the death scene, with maximum drama, to understand the intensity of the scene. Mrs. Whitehaus knew getting us to participate would make us understand the importance of the scene more than a lecture on it. I loved the hands-on learning. It taught me that there is always a way to make learning fun.
Teaching isn’t the only thing Mrs. Whitehaus is passionate about. She is also an avid reader. My classmates and I could have discussions with her not only on school books, but also on books we read for fun. She is a library in human form. The amount of books she reads could set a record. This gave me something I could relate to her with besides Shakespeare and essays.
At the end of the year, our final project was a speech. I had to tie what I learned about good writing to make a persuasive historical speech. I was nervous. I hadn’t been the strongest writer and speeches weren’t my favorite thing. But at the end of my speech, Mrs. Whitehaus sat with her mouth open. “That speech was incredible. You did a great job!” She even ran over to the next door classroom to tell my AP U.S. History teacher that my speech was good. I had never had a teacher cheer me on so much or be so proud. It felt amazing.

Leaving Mrs. Whitehaus’s class at the end of the year was one of the first times I was sad to not have a teacher next year. Mrs. Whitehaus showed me anything can be interesting if you’re enthusiastic about it. She’s a true believer that you can’t judge a book by its cover.
There isn’t a single word that can do Mrs. Whitehaus justice. She’s a friend, She’s a mentor, and she’s groovy. But more than anything, she’s just Whitehaus.