To The Chorus Teacher That Changed My Life,
First, yes that title is one hundred percent true.
You have changed my life so much and have made such an impact on me. From the way, you would walk into the chorus room with your bright smile and laugh, to your loving mother like attitude, you made the chorus room my home inside of high school.
I’ll never forget the moments that I shared with you and all the chorus members. Thank you for being such a kind, warm hearted soul who would welcome anyone and everyone into your arms. On the first day of class I remember I was a little nervous because I hadn’t taken chorus since middle school. You made me feel welcomed and wanted the second I stepped into the class room.
The whole year was memorable and I certainly will not forget a single moment of it. From learning specifics about each one of your students, to supporting them in their sports, to being a shoulder to cry on while stressing about the stem quiz in the next period biology class, you were always there.
High school can be tough and all students need a safe place to go. Most teachers are worried about their students and how they perform in class and what their grades are, but you cared the most. You cared about our personal being, our happy days and sad days, how we were doing in our other classes, and most importantly how we were performing in chorus.
Thank you for teaching me to always keep my head up and to always believe in myself. Through my senior year you helped me come closer to finding myself, especially through music. I’m now making life connections with songs that I never would have thought of. You are a light in this world shining so bright, and no one can ever dim your shine. An article doesn't express the best emotions, but you still deserve to know how amazing you are even though I can sometimes be bad with words.
So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for the senior year of tears, laughter, golden star stickers, and singing. And thank you for being the best teacher I have ever had.
With Love,
Aubs.
