I always hated those kids who claimed to hate school even though they were super popular just because that was the cool thing, which evidently made them even more popular, somehow. But man did I really hate school. My middle school years were hands down my glory days (that should tell you a lot about me).

Being a triplet, we each had our thing in highschool: my sister played in the marching band and sung in both chorus and women’s choir, which she was really good at. My brother did robotics and ran cross country, both of which he was exceptionally good at. I played basketball all four years, was the captain my senior year, and was very involved in basketball all year round since the age of 8. But truth be told I sucked and sat the bench my entire senior season. Hard work does not get you playing time, kids. So school was all I had. It was all I was good at. I was always “the smartest” - I always had the best grades of the three of us. But again, being a triplet, everything had to be fair. I wasn’t allowed to be proud or put my good grades, which was all of them, up on the fridge. It was just expected of me to excel in school. There was no need for celebration.

I was always a sad kid. I don’t remember being anything but sad and unstable and different. Of course, I had no idea that every other kid I knew didn’t feel or think like I did. I thought it was totally normal. I mean yea, in high school I sat by myself every day (Every. Single. Day.) at lunch in high school and I had never hosted a sleepover in my life and I maybe went and did things with friends outside of school four or five times, if that, in my entire four years of high school. But I didn’t notice until early on in my senior year that I was just very different. I didn’t take that too well; it was a hard concept to grasp.

In most classes I didn’t speak, and I had always been that way. I mean I literally did not muter even a word. Sure, I talked to other kids before class began sometimes, but that was it. I always turned my homework in on time and I aced most tests. I received only one final grade lower than an A in all of high school, and it was an 89.4 at that.

But my teachers had never bothered to reach out to me. They never encouraged me or made the effort to create a good relationship with the practically mute friendless, lonely, but really, really smart, kid whose safest place was in their classroom. There were no comments or smiley faces on my assignments. Just maybe a “pleasure to have in class” on my grade reports, which I learned is a pre-programed option. No one ever went above and beyond to tell me that I mattered, that my thoughts and ideas, my intelligence, could bring me somewhere in life.

But then I took a class with a teacher I had had before for a different class, and I was excited because I liked really them and I knew what to expect. I loved their teaching style, which was discussion and activity based (even though I didn’t talk), and how we got to write about whatever it was we wanted from the assigned reading for each class, or even if it was based on some sort of theme, it wasn’t a direct question with one sole answer. They were every much opinion based and open to interpretation. And boy am I opinionated! I absolutely loved every second of it.

So, if you ever read this, this is for you: the teacher that changed me.

You always made comments on my writing assignments, and consistently made the effort to get me to share my ideas in class because they were so different, yet fascinating. Not only that, but you created an environment where it was okay for me to share my ideas. You created an environment where I was comfortable enough to go outside of my comfort zone and engage myself, even if I still chose not to. You made thinking so vastly different from the rest of the world a positive thing, when all my life it had made me “the weird kid”.

The way you pushed me to express my thoughts and feelings, both on paper or vocally to the class, truly made me a better person. While I was previously never able to express my thoughts and feelings to other people unless I “had” to for a class, IE if it was for a grade, I now write for the Odyssey and often write lengthy letters and texts or some other sort messages to those that I feel need to know how much they mean to me or to those who need my advice, my perspective, or what have you. Long story short, I have simply become more expressive and that has made a world of difference in my life.

Not only did you set me up to better help the people and the world around me, but you allowed me to better understand myself and my thoughts and feelings - what it is that I need, for me. I am able to express my feelings to those that can help me, whereas I used to just sit silently and/or lie my way through whatever and to whoever I needed to in order to just get by. But my heart no longer aches from the pain of keeping it all in.

Just being given the opportunity to learn how to express myself, and you being one of the few people really, truly, believed in me, has led me to a healthier place in life.

To be told that I am loved and brave and great and wonderful and strong and smart, and on more than just one occasion, is just one of the best feelings when told by anyone. But by a teacher? That’s special.

All I have ever wanted was to matter to someone, an adult, just because I was who I was, and not because they felt obligated to root for the underdog. To be able to say that you were that teacher, that person, that adult, who changed me, gives me such happiness.

Thank you for being you.