describe the feeling of the special bond that u share with your favorite teacher
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My favorite teacher and one who made all the difference in both my personal life and in my career was my 7th grade reading-intervention teacher. Like many adolescents, I wasn’t fond of reading, mostly because I couldn’t relate to the stories we read or understand many of the concepts we read about. I struggled and I fell behind grade level in reading. Much to my dismay, I was pulled out of my English class a few days each week to complete a reading-intervention program with Mrs. Gustafson. I remember her classroom being comfortable, welcoming, and safe. And Mrs. Gustafson was all of those things, too. She created engaging lessons that helped me access complex concepts and make connections. She created a learning environment where taking risks was encouraged. No matter how wrong I was at times, she gave me credit for trying. Her words of affirmation showed me that she believed in me. She rewarded what I did well. I learned to love my small-group instruction because it catered to my individual needs. Mrs. Gustafson saw me as an individual rather than as a number. She cared, and it showed. I knew that I wanted to be like her and one day make a difference in students’ lives.
It’s not too often we get to thank our favorite teachers for what they’ve taught us, but it’s less often that we get to learn from them for longer than one school year. I consider myself fortunate to have had the chance to be a student of Mrs. Gustafson’s once again more than 10 years after she first opened my eyes to the true gift of teaching. In the final semester of my teacher-credential program, I went out on a limb and registered for a course instructed by a familiar name: Shelley Gustafson. I thought it could just be a coincidence that two people in Long Beach, Calif. had the same name, but I was hopeful. And when I walked into that classroom to a familiar face, I knew I was getting in to the right profession. Fighting back the tears, I began to tell her who I was when she interrupted, “Nettie, I remember you!” I thanked her for believing in me, for inspiring me to continue learning, and for showing me that teaching is a gift that keeps on giving. Much of who I am as a teacher today stems from both what I learned from Mrs. Gustafson 20 years ago as a middle schooler and almost a decade ago as a teacher-in-the-making.
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