On the first day of 7^th grade, you took my class on our first trip to the library. We were to pick out our first accelerated reading book for the year. I was excited; I’d always loved reading much more than most of my peers. I chose the first book in a series called Pendragon. It was about a boy who traveled to and saved all kinds of different worlds. I thought it sounded super cool. When I went to check it out, you were standing and talking with the librarian. You said to me, “Doesn’t that sound like a boy book?” I didn’t respond. I had no words. In that moment, I didn’t realize how much those words would affect me.

I was always an anxious child. One thing I always worried about was being judged. Up until that day, the school library had been a safe place for me. I didn’t feel anxious. You ruined that. I felt your judgement. With that one careless question, you took away the one thing I used to get away from my anxiety.

I didn’t realize until a couple of weeks ago how big of an effect these words had on the rest of my life. At the time, I just thought you were just some mean teacher. I didn’t even realize why I loved reading so much in the first place. I just knew that I did. I knew that my mom would threaten to take away my books when I was in trouble instead of my TV privileges like she would another kid. I see now that books allowed me to drift into a different reality. Whether it took me on a journey along with a boy who saved multiple worlds, let me follow three terribly unlucky orphans, or encouraged me to pretend that magic was real, a book would let me forget everything that was happening in my brain. That was what drew me to reading.

I still read, but not nearly as much or as passionately as I did before. After your question that day, I started choosing books written for young girls. I read the ones about romance, friend drama, and whatever else. That was a much smaller section of the library than the one for “boys.” For years, I was convinced that these were the kind of books that I truly enjoyed reading. I didn’t love them nearly as much. And even though I was still reading, I wasn’t doing it nearly as much as I did before. I was barely getting my necessary accelerated reading points for each year. I just didn’t care anymore.

It’s no question that teachers have an impact on the lives of students, but maybe some people don’t realize quite how much of one. To my teacher friends, pay attention to what you’re saying to your kids. Encourage them to read and do what makes them happy. That’s what I needed, and that’s what every one of today’s students deserves.