Dear Jimmy Carter Teacher, A Message To All Educators-Thank You

At first, I didn’t know whether to start with a thank you or an apology. There’s something about teaching an ocean of hormonally imbalanced teenagers that doesn’t sound too appealing to me. Nonetheless, here you are. Repeating a lecture seven times a day, speaking so passionately, others are sure to confuse your lesson with a sermon. All for what? For that one bratty kid in every period to step all over your dauntless discourse? (Seriously, though, if you have the answer, please email me.)


Anyway, there’s a reason I believe the journey between a student and a teacher is forever. You see, whatever us students amount to, become in life, it is because of you. Like sponges, we soak up a lot of what’s taught to us. Learning your mannerisms is the easiest, though. At this point, hearing “chispas” out in the halls was inevitable. So, expect a couple of years from now for me to become a lawyer and say something witty following the victory of my first case–I know Mr. Silva would do the same.


Not only do we learn a surplus of academic skills and idiosyncrasy, but we also learn impacting life lessons. Whether it be taught directly from you or an obstacle in life, you make us know that you’re there for us. Not many have the option to confide in their teachers. Yet, you make it available to us without an expectation of a return. As a student, I’m inspired by this, and it makes me cherish the relationship between student and teacher evermore.
Let me take on a more personal note. I’d like to thank my freshman year teachers for helping me showcase my inner child phase. Sophomore teachers Thank You for being there for me through my toughest phase, my junior year teachers, for cheering me on in my comeback phase. And to my senior teachers, well for what’s to come. Each and every one of you makes the difference in who we are and who we aspire to be. Just as I know we matter in your lives, please take note that you matter in ours too.
I’m sorry, and thank you.

Author

Laura C.

As a child, there’s only so much one can do. We have no choice but to accept that we are never in control of what’s happening; in fact, many of us were too naïve to ever even think of the possibility in which we are in control. Throughout these years, she never really knew what or how things worked, within her childhood, all she did get to know was nothing more than her very own feelings and emotions. Her parents are very kind and driven individuals. They both share a deep passion for work because it was implemented at a very young age. As far as she can remember, she too grew fond of it and soon after the age of four played the -at the time super cool- role of a promoter at a family business they owned at a local flea market. Because of this workaholic-like structure, her family as a whole became stressed. This and many more “adult” topics arose a series of altercations between her parents. Of course, for young, little Laura, this meant to distract her little brother with blasting music meanwhile she cried at a corner where he wouldn’t notice. Throughout her early years of school, she had been the main target for a cheap laugh. Anything you can possibly think of, she’s pretty sure she has been called before. After that, she had no more room in her brain to think of anything other than these incidents all together. It felt as if every step she took was out of place. As she grew older, she learned that the anguish and disgust felt within herself were very much validated and were far from wrong. Up until the medial part of last school year was she granted the opportunity to share her story as a whole, along with other problems, for the very first time. It was through her former English teacher that she entered the first step of recovery. Although this newfound path ensured success, she was filled with this sense of uncertainty and fear of neglect. This became the problem when diagnosing her with Mild Depressive Disorder and continued until she forced herself into a hospital for the fear of her own actions. After her discharge, she became quieter about her feelings because it felt as though they either did not matter or were always misunderstood.  Later then she received monthly therapy and was visited twice a month by a social worker in order to learn coping mechanisms and really heal. Her parents too were educated about what was going on and helped her in whatever way possible. It was until then that she took this blindfold, that she had created herself, off and really looked at the bigger picture. There were all these people gathered that love and care for her deeply. The misunderstanding was all of her own, and this helped take a major part in helping overcome that fear and take time for herself this past summer break. She knew then that her life was worth living because of all these reasons. She is worthy of living because she’s been independent since such a young age. She is worthy of living because being bullied created confidence in loving herself. She is worthy of living because she chose to rise above “scary” or “crazy” words like Mental Disorders. All of this makes her so much more worthy of living, and she hopes others can find their reasons too.

%d bloggers like this: