My First Teacher

For the first time, I had cried so deeply.

My eyes streamed as if their springs had burst open.

In that moment, I felt as if I had fallen into an empty void.

My teacher, the one who made me who I am, was leaving.

I was young; I was mischievous and lazy.

She reached out, pulled me from a dark well.

She looked into my eyes with a warm smile.

She believed in me more than I believed in myself; perhaps she made me who I am.

In that moment, I understood how a teacher

can bring a child back to life.

She was the one who taught me to write;

She told me that writing is the most beautiful way to pour out one’s soul.

My tears would dry,

but the writing would remain, remembered.

I came to love school, my lessons, and above all, writing.

Because I had a teacher who made me love them:

The first to praise me,

The first to say, “You will succeed,”

The first to make me feel that I mattered in this world.

Our journey may have been brief.

I was heartbroken; I cried a great deal; I admit it.

But one day, when I succeed,

I want to go to you and say, “I made it”—because of you.

You saved me.

And I, like you, will pull others out of their wells.

I am still growing; I am still afraid;

but I have never even considered giving up.

Because I know:

You still believe in me.

And I will not give up;

I will save and protect others.

A good teacher is a child’s greatest chance.

You were my greatest chance.

You pulled me from that well,

You brought light into my life,

You illuminated my path,

And left hope for those along my journey…