When I was in 8th grade, my father passed away. After that I made sure to portray myself as a wall - an impenetrable force that had no room for emotional attachments. Yet, as indestructible as I made myself seem, I was slowly crumbling on the inside.

And then I found you in a 10th grade Global Studies course I was sure I'd hate.

I walked into your classroom and sat down in a seat that was not too close in proximity to your desk while at the same time close enough to seem interested. I was certainly not a believer the first day of class. In fact, I found your antics to be insincere and overthought. However, I slowly began to realize that you were as genuine as they came and following said realization, the wall that I had so carefully built around myself began to break down.

I came to school every day just to go to your class. I participated in discussions that I normally wouldn't have, and I actually challenged myself to excel - to have the highest marks in your third period group. I started to care and that in itself was an utter miracle, for I had not done so in years.

You let me take up too much of your time and you let me complain to you about all of my problems that were probably far insignificant to your own. You never pitied me and you never made it obvious that you were very interested in what I said to you on a daily basis. But you knew exactly how to quell my worries without ever being conventionally supportive. You slowly became the father-figure I had so desperately needed in my life.

I could never repay you for the countless times you pushed me to achieve the success you knew I deserved. Even now, almost three years out of high school, you continue to be my mentor in life, the father I lost too soon and the type of person I could only hope to emulate.

Thank you for teaching me that it is okay to feel... and for educating me on the various aspects of global studies.