Apples for My Teacher

Apples for My Teacher

Apples for my teacher,

placed careful on the desk.

A simple thank you wrapped in red,

for patience at its best.

They saw more than grades on paper,

more than wrong or right.

They noticed when I struggled,

and stayed after the bell.

Teaching is not just information,

it is holding space.

Believing in someone quietly,

before they see their place.

Some lessons never made the board,

they lived in how they cared.

In the way they said keep trying,

when quitting felt prepared.

I think of them when doubt creeps in,

their voice still calm and clear.

You’re capable, you’re learning still,

you belong here.

Apples feel too small a gift,

for shaping who I am.

But gratitude finds simple forms,

when spoken words feel thin.

Not every teacher wears a badge,

some show up unexpectedly.

Anyone who helps you see yourself,

teaches honestly.

Apples for my teacher still,

even years away.

Their lessons walk beside me now,

and guide me every day.