The Teachers Who Gave Their All

Most people who knew me in middle school would probably describe me as out-going, full of joy, fun to be around! I was known as the strategic class clown, and a brainiac. Most of the students around me would definitely say I was the 'teacher's pet', though it was unintentional. I simply obeyed the rules, did my homework on time, and occasionally got all my work done ahead of schedule so during the school day I could surround myself with books in the library for hours on end. I was raised to respect your teachers, get your stuff done when told, and be kind to everyone, no matter what their beliefs, race, grades, or economical standing was.

I still stand by those standards today, mostly due to two influential people in my life: Mrs. B, my English teacher, and Mrs. N, my science teacher. These two wonderful, amazing, and caring people are one of the few reasons I am still in school pursuing my dream career while keeping up on a few hobbies I would have otherwise never touched again. This is the story of why, but first, we have to go back to the beginning so you understand the ending.

When I was about eight or nine years old, I could tell there was tension between my parents. Of course, I thought nothing of it. I had read books and seen movies that had couples who argued and fought, only for it to turn around in the end. I figured it was nothing much, being less than double digits in age. Shrugging it off, I continued on with my life until around 2011. I was eleven years old now, just about to leave the dreaded private school I was stuck at for a year (didn't fit in, bullied, etc.), and we were moving.

Normally, this wouldn't be a bad thing. However, we were moving out of the sticks and country bumpkin life to the ghetto edge of a small city. We left are moderate-sized three bedroom, two bath house for a very small two-bedroom one and a half bath (half bath being in my room) with a rickety side room that was thrown on. It smelt of mold and weed and was clearly neglected by the previous homeowners. I tried to be optimistic about it, thinking it would be great to have my own restroom finally, and my bedroom wasn't much smaller than my old one.

But what I didn't realize is why moved. We will get to that soon.

School soon started up, and I found myself enrolled at a normal everyday public school. It wasn't too big or fancy, and I got along with all the teachers pretty quickly. I found some old friends from elementary there as well, and finally hooked up with one of them. That was the worst mistake because when I wouldn't waste every second of my day for him, he dumped me and made nearly everyone who didn't know me at the school hate me. The few friends I had made helped me out, and Mrs. B refused to deal with any of it.

This was the first time she really started helping me out. When I was in her class, she spotted him kicking the back of my chair constantly because I was shaking my leg and he didn't like it. I had never seen a teacher get so protective of me in my life. She encouraged me in everything I did, and I soon got to know her very well. So much so that one day I had to stay late for school, and didn't have a ride home, so my mother asked Mrs. B to drive me home.

She agreed!

She was most likely my first best friend at this new school, and the only constant I really had there. In fact, I write part of this sitting in a chair she bought for me for Christmas way back then! I wrote my first story in my class, and she helped me perfect it. I wish I still had it, but it's been lost in the many years since then. However, the way she always helped me improve and always encouraged me to push through obstacles is something I will never lose. Even after sixth grade, when I was no longer in her class, she would still check in on me and always said I was welcome to stop by when I had time.

Fast forward to my eighth-grade year, and all hell broke loose at home.

I had anticipated it for many years, my mom and I having already moved out and the relationship I had with my father slowly straining, but when it finally happened, I was frozen. I held no emotion to it really. After seeing it as a possibility for many years, and even discussing it with my older brother from time to time, I didn't hold any feelings at the moment for it. It was as if I was dead to the tragedy that was happening.

It really hit home when my father left the day after the divorce, being picked up with the woman he had been having an online affair with for months before all of this.

I tried to hold in the hatred and anger that flowed at this woman and at my father for destroying what I loved. I had to be strong while my mother was currently vulnerable and weak. I was almost through with eighth-grade, and I could last a bit longer. I just had to keep it bottled up and ignore it. Push it to the side.

However, human strength is finite.

My grades started dropping slowly. I was forgetting to finish and turn in assignments. I was not attentive in classes anymore and teachers were starting to notice that my former joy of being in school was gone. My coaches tried to reach out to me, but I forced on a smile and said I was fine! Everything was okay! I'm doing good, nothing to worry about here.

Oh, how big those lies were.

Mrs. N, my science teacher that year, was one of those few I would also consider a best friend. She and Mrs. B were close as well, so we would all talk and chat the day away sometimes. However, she started noticing what was going on, especially when she had to hand me my first detention slip for not getting homework done. I tried to give an excuse, but she wouldn't take it. After, she asked if I was okay, and I told the same lie to her as well, then took my leave.

I couldn't let anyone know what was going on.

I was the strong one.

I was the fun one.

I was the one that had it all together.

I was fine.

One day, a big project was due in science class, and Mrs. N comes over to ask for it. Fear creeps in. I hadn't finished it. In fact, I had never started it in the first place. After a month, I had nothing to show for it. I feel my bottle shatter, the walls I built up around it crashing down with the tsunami of emotions I was trying to hide. She reacts quickly and brings me outside of the classroom, where I finally stop holding back the tears. I nearly soak her shirt in tears while she just held me close in a tight hug and rubbed my back. I didn't realize how much I needed it until that point. I spilled everything to her about what was going on at home, what had been happening, and how much I was holding back from everyone.

I didn't want to be a burden to anyone, so I kept it all to myself and never spoke of it. However, I wasn't okay. I wasn't strong enough right now. I couldn't keep it all together anymore. Finally, after my tears and crying died down to a few hiccups, she pulls me away from her and sternly looks into my eyes. She says something that will sit with me forever.

"Don't hold it in like that again. If you ever need to talk about this, or anything, you come to me and I will make time for you."

It may not have been those exact words, but after that day I never bottled up those feelings again. Whenever I felt myself getting low, I would go to her or Mrs. B for help. They both were there for me throughout the rest of my eighth-grade year, even if it was just to sit silently with me while I cried. Mrs. B always offered to proofread my stories when I would finish them, and she was always encouraging me to read more. When I got a letter saying I was accepted to an Early College High School because I was in the top ten percent of my class, they were probably more excited than I was! They showered me with praise and told me to remember to never let the world get me down again. That, even though I'm no longer in their class, they will always be there for me should I need to call someone for advice.

I recently had the chance to speak with one of them, running into Mrs. N at the store. When I told her what I was going to school for, she did a little happy dance saying she got me started on it all. Honestly? She's right. She helped me get back on track and find my passion, which ended up being in the field of science.

To this day, that small act of simply opening up their schedules for me and helping me regain my sense of direction is something that has continued to help me. I wish I could have invited them to my high school graduation, but I will make sure they have the first pick of seating for my college graduation. If it wasn't for them, I may not have made it this far. In fact, I know I would have never made it this far. The chance of me graduating high school would have been next to none if they weren't there for me.

In high school, I also had some great teachers that have made a huge impact on my life, but these two were the first. They will forever hold a special place in my heart, and I would do anything to be able to speak to them again and tell them all of what is going on in my life right now.

Thank you sincerely, Mrs. B and Mrs. N.

Thank you.