I sat in your class at 4-years-old, full of life, excitement, and nerves. The first day of school gave me butterflies, but my day went well because I had you. You walked me to the playground, you pushed me on the swings, and you stayed nearby at rest time. You made sure that my friends and I were happy, occupied, and learning.

Sometimes, you would use picture books and other times, your voice alone was enough to keep me engaged. You let me write, color, read, and do those things a thousand times over. You sang to us and I’ll never forget the alphabet characters you created to help us learn sounds. I remember each character had unique characteristics; you saw my unique characteristics.

I was never the loudest preschool student, but you taught me that quietness belongs in the noise, as well. You let me be the child I was and you showed me my God-given worth day after day.

I didn’t just learn how to read and do math because of you: I learned how to face life. You taught me how to persevere, how to be kind, and how to endure mundane days. I looked up to you figuratively and literally.

I know some years you felt discouraged. Often you didn’t receive the recognition you deserve. It doesn’t matter though because you’ve always been number one in my eyes. It’s not easy being a teacher. You were faced with difficulties that all teachers face. But, you always fixed the problems; you always fixed my problems.

You were there when I lost my first tooth. You were there at my preschool graduation. You bandaged all my boo-boos. You held me when I cried. You celebrated my academic achievements. You sat with me at all the holiday parties. You were concerned about me when I was sick and not at school.

You were my favorite teacher and the one that shaped me into the girl I am today. You gave me support, the motivation I needed to make good grades, and the attention I craved. You were the reason Monday mornings were bearable.

You’re still the reason.

You’re not my teacher anymore, but I still learn from your example day after day.

And as much as I miss being in your class, it’s a better feeling to get to call you “Mommy” instead of “Mrs. Kueng.”

So, I will now break proper conduct between teachers and students and let you know how I feel: I love you.

Sincerely,

Your soon-to-be high school graduate

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