3rd grade — it was Dale.
6th grade — Bill.
8th grade — Karen.
(Yes, we called them by their first names. It was a progressive performing arts school—they insisted.)
These are the teachers who changed my life, each for a different reason.
Dale told me I could do math—even when I couldn’t. She made me feel smart just for trying. Bill sparked my love for history and politics. He taught with vivid stories from the Civil Rights Movement and the Holocaust, stories that reshaped how I saw the world. He’s the reason I was confidently debating my (admittedly racist) step-grandfather at the dinner table when I was nine.
Karen taught me grammar. She was the first person who made me believe I could be a writer. She was strict—scary, even—but I wanted her approval so badly, I rose to meet the challenge. And then… high school. No one stands out. That matters too.
I became an average student. I got by. Solid Bs. But I wasn’t inspired. I wasn’t challenged. I wasn’t seen.
Then came college. Professor Christiano rekindled everything. She taught me how storytelling could spark social change. She believed stories could move hearts and policy. She’s the one who encouraged me to move to D.C. And if not for her… well, I wouldn’t be writing this essay right now.
Teachers quite literally made me who I am. The confidence, the curiosity, the call to purpose—it didn’t come from a textbook. It came from the people willing to teach it.
There’s a study I learned about that I come back to often:
If a child has just one consistent, caring adult in their life, they are significantly more likely to succeed and flourish in life.
I believe that. And I believe that, in many cases, that adult is a teacher.
So as I prepare to send my daughter to school for the first time, I’ve been thinking about the people who have shaped me—and the people who are about to shape her. I’ve been thinking about the way we talk about teachers, and how somewhere along the way, we stopped treating them like the experts they are.
How did we get to a place where teachers are expected to defend their lesson plans… and their classroom libraries?
Where they’re questioned more than trusted?
Where they’re underpaid, overworked, and still show up each morning with enough patience and passion to try again?
I know I’m new at this whole “school parent” thing. And I’m sure there will be moments when I disagree with a teacher’s approach. But my hope is that I can meet those moments with humility—and with the trust that they know what they’re doing, and they are doing their best for my daughter.
Because I’ve been the student who was changed by a teacher. I’ve been the student who was ignored by one. And I know, without a doubt, how much that matters.
💌 Let’s celebrate the teachers who changed us.
If you have a story about a teacher who impacted your life, hit reply and share it with me. I’d love to include a few in next month’s newsletter.And if you're looking for the perfect thank-you gift for a teacher in your life—our Pocket Journals and Candles are thoughtful, beautiful, and meaningful.
🎁 Use code THANKYOU15 for 15% off any teacher gift now through September 15. Shop teacher gifts here.
