I’ve always felt like I was everyone’s second choice.
I know.
I KNOW.
It’s probably all in my head.
Probably something I should unpack in therapy instead of trauma-dumping on the internet.
But therapy costs money.
Facebook is free.
So here we are.
My idiot brain has spent forty years convincing me that somebody else is always prettier…
Smarter…
Funnier…
More talented…
More likable…
Just…
Better.
Anyway…
Let’s completely derail this emotional train and talk about my teachers.
Because whether they realize it or not…
These people helped create the sarcastic, loud-mouthed, coffee-fueled, weird-ass feral housecat standing before you today.
## Kindergarten
My kindergarten teacher was the first pregnant woman I’d ever actually spent any amount of time around.
I was absolutely fascinated.
She had this beautiful classroom with giant windows.
We got graham crackers with frosting and milk for snack.
She was just…
Kind.
Ten out of ten.
Would absolutely attend kindergarten again.
## First Grade
This is where school got serious.
Math happened.
I don’t really have a funny story.
Just love for my first-grade teacher.
I still see her around every once in a while.
I’m positive she has absolutely no clue who I am anymore…
…but she left an impression that’s lasted almost thirty-five years.
That’s pretty incredible when you think about it.
## Second Grade
I literally don’t remember this bitch’s name.
She got married over the summer.
She had been a student teacher the year before…
…and I was THRILLED when she left.
Only for her to come back as my actual teacher.
Apparently my brain decided she wasn’t worth the storage space.
Moving on.
## Third Grade
Started the year with a teacher I absolutely adored.
No notes.
Loved him.
Then…
My family moved.
Which, looking back, seemed to be our favorite hobby.
Then I got…
The worst teacher I have ever had.
If I ever have the unfortunate experience of seeing this woman again…
I don’t care if she’s ninety-five…
I will still have to fight the urge to throat punch her.
She made me hate school.
She made me feel like I couldn’t do anything the “right” way.
She made me dread waking up every morning.
I hated it so much that I literally learned how to make myself throw up just so they’d send me home.
No child should ever feel that way because of one adult.
Thankfully…
We moved again.
The teacher I had after that completely changed everything.
I was only in her classroom for a couple of months…
But she made me feel safe again.
Between her kindness and a few really good friends…
School became fun again.
One teacher almost ruined learning for me.
Another reminded me why I loved it.
That’s how much power teachers have.
## Fourth Grade
School got harder.
Life got messier.
Those teachers were patient.
They cared.
Sometimes…
That’s enough.
## Fifth Grade
This teacher is the reason I became obsessed with science.
She made it fun.
She also told us the most horrifying eyeball story known to mankind.
It was educational.
It was traumatizing.
I still think about it whenever I touch my contacts.
Mission accomplished, I guess.
## Sixth Grade
I have notes.
Several.
During a parent-teacher conference I was sitting outside your classroom while my mom and dad parked the car.
You thought I couldn’t hear you.
You were wrong.
I heard every word.
You talked about my body.
You said I shouldn’t wear shorts because I was too big.
You said it was embarrassing.
You said my parents should be ashamed for letting me dress that way.
You said I wasn’t attractive.
I was eleven years old.
Maybe you don’t remember saying any of that.
I do.
Forty years later…
I still hear those words sometimes when I look in the mirror.
I genuinely hope…
I was the only child who ever left your classroom carrying something that heavy.
## Seventh Grade
Literal angel.
I started my very first period…
During study hall…
Surrounded by teenage boys…
While wearing white shorts.
If you just physically cringed…
Good.
You understand.
She handled it with kindness and dignity.
I’ll never forget that.
Also…
Home Ec.
The teacher who accidentally got me interested in cooking.
Little did anyone know I’d eventually spend years working in professional kitchens.
Life has a funny sense of humor.
## High School
There is a reason I chose to send my own kids to that school.
I had teachers who made me feel seen.
Teachers who listened.
Teachers who encouraged my weird ideas instead of trying to squash them.
Teachers who somehow convinced other kids to be nicer to me.
Teachers who introduced me to poetry.
To writing.
To books.
Teachers who made learning genuinely fun.
One teacher spent half the class actually teaching and the other half somehow getting talked into playing games with us.
Educational?
Questionable.
Fun?
Absolutely.
One teacher taught me how to use a table saw without removing any fingers.
Honestly…
An underrated life skill.
And then there was one administrator.
The kind every school deserves.
The kind who cared.
Really cared.
Even now, years later, if I see him at a school event…
He stops.
He asks how I’m doing.
He asks about my kids.
He listens.
He hugs me.
He remembers.
Kids notice when adults genuinely care.
They always have.
—
Here’s the point to this ridiculously long ADHD-fueled TED Talk.
Teachers have no idea how much power they hold.
Actually…
ALL adults do.
Some of them become the voice inside your head that cheers you on for the rest of your life.
Others…
Become the voice that tells you you’re ugly.
That you’re too fat.
That you’re weird.
That you’ll never be good enough.
The incredible teachers probably have no idea how much they changed my life.
The terrible ones probably don’t remember me at all.
But I remember every single one of them.
Every kind word.
Every smile.
Every eye roll.
Every insult.
Every moment they made me feel seen.
Every moment they made me feel invisible.
So if you’re a teacher reading this…
Please remember…
You aren’t just teaching math.
Or science.
Or English.
You’re helping build the voice a child is going to hear inside their own head for the next fifty years.
You may never know which sentence they carry with them forever.
So please…
For the love of all things holy…
Make damn sure it’s a kind one.
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