Dear Ms. Campos,

For as long as I can remember you’ve been a teacher. Because of you, I’ve always been the first kid in school and the last one to leave. I’ve always been volunteered to go down to the work room to make copies or make die-cuts for your bulletin boards. Not to mention I’ve removed staples from every bulletin board, cut 99 percent of your laminated words for your word wall, and have helped you rearrange your classroom 100 times over the summer until finally you’ve run out of time and you just have to settle for the way the room is arranged (because I know you’re never fully satisfied with it).

I constantly hid the fact that I was a teacher's kid because I always got those questions from my classmates: “So does your mom give you extra homework?” or “Does your mom give you answers to the homework?” (for some of you who are still wondering, the answer is no). You’ve always been mom to me, never “Ms. Campos”, so it really confused me in kindergarten when you were my substitute teacher and I called you mom and you ignored me (#neverforget). But I always hid the fact that I was a teacher's kid even more when we moved to Texas because you worked in a small school district and once my teachers knew you were my mom, you were easily a 4-digit-extension code or email away. And even worse, I ran the risk that you would see my teachers at district meetings.

I always had a behind-the-scene glimpse of the teacher world. I knew all the teacher lingo even before I knew how to read and understand Shakespeare. That's right, ask me about ESL, 504 Plans, ARD and IEPs, and I got you covered. Whenever my classmates would talk in a corner saying “Do you think Mrs. Blahblah lives in a tent or stays at school all the time?” I always laughed because of course you didn’t stay at school all the time, even though sometimes it felt like it, and you didn’t live in a tent. You had to leave school because you had to be back home in time to take me to soccer practice or make dinner. It never freaked me out to see my teachers in public, because you usually hung out with them and invited them to all our family barbecues (yes, teachers are a fun time) and I became a full-time babysitter to half of my teacher’s children.

Most importantly, I thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for not being a helicopter parent, and teaching me to be a problem solver and independent. Thank you for teaching me to enjoy reading. Thank you for showing me how important it was to respect my teachers, not just because you told me, but because I always struggled to watch you come home every day just beaten down and exhausted from the disrespect from parents and students. I watched you stress out over test scores because people think that defines you as a teacher, but if you asked your students if they enjoyed your class and learned from it, they would definitely say yes; they would say history was your strong suit and that you made reading fun. I’ve watched you run to Walmart at 10 p.m. because one of your students desperately needed school supplies and you didn’t have any more budget money left, so you spent your own money. I've watched you go to almost every single fifth grade event and fundraiser to support your students. You are the most selfless human ever, and I am so thankful for you.

I know sometimes you feel defeated, but I promise, you’ve changed more student’s lives than you can ever imagine. So here's to always winning "Teacher of the Year" in my life.

Sincerely,

A teacher's kid.