When I think of being a teacher, I think of the difference between Ms. Carico and Ms. Gaare. I was a terror in middle school, redefining what it means to be a troubled child in new and interesting ways every day. Ms. Carico and I butted heads constantly, and I never learned anything from her. She was mean-spirited and my classmates and I suspected she may not have liked kids at all. In a meeting between the school psychologist, Ms. Carico, and my mom, Ms. Carico looked my mother in the face and said, "There isn't a single redeemable thing about that child."

Ms. Gaare, on the other hand, offered a stark contrast. We butted heads, sure, but she gave me time and understanding and didn't expect an apology if she hadn't given one herself. She was kind despite my wildness. I had the pleasure of having her as my teacher for 6th, 7th, and 8th grade, as well as a couple of times in high school. I honestly don't know where I'd be if she hadn't shown me that adults can be compassionate, considerate, and yes, even cool.

For me, a lot of teaching is going up to bat for kids that fly off the handle. It's showing up and being there in their worst moments so that you can shine a spotlight on their best ones. So, why teach? Because there are kids like me out there just waiting for a chance, just waiting for someone, anyone to believe in them. I owe it to Ms. Gaare, Mr. Clark, Mr. Chimento, and Ms. Carico to fight for the little guy.