To the woman who ignited a fire in my heart:
You saw potential in a troubled 11-year-old who hated to read. You never saw my dyslexia as a disability, but as a reason to motivate me. You taught me that, even though reading was more difficult for me than my peers, it was something I could learn to love. You showed me the magic of words, and the power they have on the world around us. My childlike enthusiasm for reading that stemmed from your class grew into something so much bigger. You always managed to make learning fun, and I don't think there was a day I left your class without a smile on my face.
I walked into sixth grade English dragging my feet. I thought your class was going to be the bane of my existence. Instead, it became the driving force behind my passion for literature. You began reading a novel to us in class, and, soon after, I had my own copy so that I could read ahead. I went from asking my friends to summarize novels in order to pass the mandatory reading quizzes in elementary school to staying up until two in the morning to read multiple novels at once. I read the entire Harry Potter series in less than two weeks. If my nose wasn't in a book, then my head was lost in thought about some book.
It wasn't just a love for reading that you sparked. Although my spelling was atrocious and my grammar was just as bad, I began to love to write. We were required to have journals in your class, and writing in a journal soon became a pass time at home as well as in your classroom. I wrote my first novel in the sixth grade. Granted, it's probably the worst piece of literature (if you can call it that) I have ever written,� and the plot made absolutely no sense. I did it, though. I went from writing the bare minimum in class to writing a novel well over two hundred pages.
If you asked my parents, they would tell you that I have been telling and writing stories from the moment I learned to speak and write. What they would leave out is my temporary slump. At a young age, I had a teacher discourage me because of my learning disability. After that, I only did what was required in school. I no longer read for fun — until you. You saw a disheartened 11-year-old girl and taught her that she could overcome others' low expectations of her. You taught me that my disability shouldn't be treated as a crutch but, instead, as a reason to work even harder.
You are the reason I am working toward becoming an English teacher. I've known I wanted to become a teacher since I was very little. I used to ask teachers for extra copies of worksheets, line my stuffed animals up at home, and teach them everything I'd learned in school that day. I always thought I would teach early education. �Your class ignited a fire in my heart for English that I couldn't extinguish, and, by the eleventh grade, I couldn't see myself doing anything other than working in some English field or another. After a short consideration of journalism, it was clear to me that I wanted to be the English teacher to ignite a fire in a child's heart. I wanted to do for someone what you did for me.
Thank you,
An inspired student
PS: After you gave me permission to use one of your photos for this article, I began to search. I chose this picture because I feel it shows the enthusiasm and love that I felt radiating from you every single day that I walked into your classroom.
