Your classroom was a place of refuge. The space inside your four walls much a much-needed break from the inquisitive eyes and the gnawing jaws of five hundred of my fellow peers. It was a safe place, a place where I could open the cabinet doors behind your desk and see my brothers name in his own handwriting, a physical reminder that we shared this same life, those same four walls within those larger four walls, the same love and life I felt so far away from those days. It was a square room I could feel protected and loved in, even if for just fifty or so minutes five days a week. To a hurting teenage girl, those were precious moments.
Your embrace was always warm, a cross between friendly and motherly. Your voice and words, encouraging and full of hope. Your spirit fun and soft. You were a constant bright spot each day, and any time I see you now, still are.
Thank you and I love you.