Dear Mr. Allen,
Hey, it's me, Chanda. I'm taking the time now to thank you for being my teacher. If it wasn't for you and your push I would have never started writing again. I had lost my passion and will to write freely. All that changed sophomore year when I was transferred into your class.
When I would first walk into your class the thing you would always ask is, "How's the writing going; have anything for me to read?" Then I would hand you my paper to you and you would have the biggest smile on your face and tell me to have a nice day and see you again in 7th period. That smile reminded me of a kid in a candy store.
The beginning of my senior year the first thing I did was hand you a personal paper about myself that I had written. I went about my day bursting with joy because my last class of the day was yours. As the bell to start class rang you told everyone you had something to read and you wanted to have their undivided attention. You then read the class my paper, you know after you changed my name so no one knew it was my writing; I don't know why but that sparked something in me.
You said to the class, "This young lady is one of the bravest people I have had the pleasure to meet. To have gone through all of this and still show up to class with a smile on her face. She is the walking definition of an old soul. I want you to learn from her words and realize that musicals don't make you strong but the struggles that you go through in life does"
Thank you, Mr. Allen, for encouraging me so much.