Dear elementary school teachers of my early years,
The first thing you should know is that I remember you. I remember all of you. I remember your names and faces. I remember the essence of your voices, even.
And I remember how you felt toward me and how I felt toward you.
When I was 19, I came back to the same area for university, and I made the trip to the school, to see as many of you as I could find.
I don’t remember why I was so nervous, but I do remember that the nervousness was mixed in with a sort of triumph. Because I’m not sure you ever thought I’d amount to much. And I did. I showed you. I proved you wrong. I turned myself around, academically.
When I was in your class, you saw part of me. You saw my potential. But you didn’t…
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