I am a mediocre student. Not only that but I've never seen the point of school and how it works. I understand why it's important, but how it's done has never appealed to me. Because of this I've built myself to be that student that's always late and rarely does my homework. Now being an Ed major I realize how frustrating that can be. The things deemed to be the curriculum is stupid to me and what all of you have taught through actions outside of your lesson plans are so much more important.

A couple of years ago now at the end of a particularly lazy semester I found myself going to a professors office to apologize for bad of a student I had been. His response was simply a sighing "yeeaaahhhh" which to this day is the funniest and best response after hearing "I just wanted to come by and say I know I was a bad student this semester rarely coming to one of my classes I had of yours, so I just wanted to say sorry about that." This semester I'm starting to find myself doing the same thing I had done that semester in a couple of my classes...in fact everything up this point I wrote in class and was only stopped here after being pointed out for looking at my phone taking a break from writing this in my notebook. I still have no idea what my professor was telling us was going on in the Republic.

To every teacher I've had in the past I truly look back to your classes with fond memories, regardless of whether or not I was a good student in them. Participation points are still the bane of my existence, but to the teachers who never heard me say a word in their classes when you asked questions I've gotten better to answer periodically. And to the teachers that would constantly tell me to stop talking, I've also gotten better at that as well. To the teachers that I would constantly talked back to, I owe you a couple drinks because I was frustrating af.

To one of my sixth grade teachers that told me to get over it when I came up to you sobbing after people were rhyming my last name with homo, I still don't agree with how you dealt with that situation but you did give me the life lesson not to rely on anyone but myself to know who I am and not let anyone have the power to feel less than. Thank you.

To my eighth grade English teacher, I still don't know why you ever targeted me and made me out to be the bad student I was in your class. Everything I turned into you deserved my report card grade to be an 80 NOT a 45. You're the reason I gave up on English, the reason why up until my junior year of college writing gave me crippling anxiety. You made me believe I wasn't good enough in something before your class I genuinely enjoyed. But my papers have started getting better and my grades have too. My panic attacks when writing come less and less and now I'm an Editor in Chief. I don't really know if I should thank you for the journey of writing I've been through, but I am proud of where I am.

To my tenth grade English teacher, on the first day of class you told us how many students call you "Momma Weaver" being the student (still to this day) that loves to coast through a class not really making a difference I never really felt like I was one of the students to call you this. Until my senior year when my hands randomly started turning blue. You made a point to find me and see if I was okay and what happened (I still don't know why this happened.) If I'm being honest, I didn't even think I was a student that passed through your thoughts anymore, even if I was still at the school. So when you came to find out what was happening it meant so much more then that simple gesture it was. From this moment it set in stone that no matter how long it has been since seeing someone or how well you knew someone, if they need help or something has happened to them reach out to them. I have so many friendships that have started specifically from me applying that to my daily life, so thank you Momma Weaver.

To my twelfth grade English teacher, on one of the last days of class you had everyone pick a rock. Afterwards you explained to us how you would always be there for us, you would be our rock. Whenever we're having a bad day, we don't think we can do something, or just need the extra reminder to do our homework we could look at this rock and know that you are always supporting us, and believing that we can accomplish anything we put our minds to. I'm now in my fifth year of college, and I still have my rock from your class. It is such a small and simple gesture you gave to a whole class, but when I'm having a rough time wanting to quit everything I give myself an extra 30 seconds in my car and grab that rock as a reminder that I can do it. Thank you, it's helped me more times than I ever thought it would.