I remember my fourth-grade classroom on the first day of school. Friends were catching up and organizing brand new school supplies in their desks; all ordered in four seated pods. I quietly walked into the room and sat down in my assigned seat, my name laminated and taped on the desk. I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t feel the urge or the emotion to socialize. I was numb. If someone ever did talk to me, I would become tense, afraid of screwing up, trying my hardest to pretend I was at least a little bit cool. Now, before I continue, you should know I wasn’t treated as nicely as I should’ve been since I was about 3 years old. I had never had a friend, a real friend, a true friend before and my self-esteem was down to almost nothing. I was sad, scared, and lonely but I had no idea how to fix that for myself. My ten-year-old-mind though, That’s just how everyone feels. I had no idea I needed help. But my fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Risch, not only improved my academic status but also my self-worth, forever.

When the bell buzzed, indicating class had begun, everyone turned to the front of the room to a tall, brown-haired, smiling teacher with a poofy scarf and flats. “Good morning students.” She greeted us with a big white smile. “How about we play some ice breaker games to get to know each other?” We all stood up and she sat us down in the back of the room. We sat in a circle formation on a rug. Next to it was a reading loft (which looked very comfortable) and above the couch, on a bookcase, rested a giant fish tank. Mrs. Risch sat with us and had everyone tell something about themselves. When I, awkwardly, said something about my life, she had a short conversation about what it was like. I was surprised, but then I realized she wanted to know about me: someone besides my parents actually wanted to know about ME, MY life. That's when a small smile grew on my face and I thought to myself, “Mrs. Risch is a really nice teacher.

On our first field trip of the year, we went to Buckskinners, a historical reenactment concentrating on areas in the period of the Old West. Boarding the bus was always my least favorite part of school trips because I never had anyone to sit by or anyone I could talk to. As I sheepishly shuffled down the aisle, looking  for a place to sit, Mrs. Risch said, “Here honey, why don’t you sit by Claudia?” When I sat down, I didn’t think much of the situation at first and I never met Claudia before since she was new to Lake Country that year. She looked Hispanic: dark, brown, curly hair and tall (well, at least much taller than me). As the bus pulled away, Claudia and I started chatting. Throughout the whole day, we become closer and closer, and by the time we pulled back into our school's parking lot, we were giggling, socializing, and just having fun together. It seemed like we had been friends since kindergarten. Mrs. Risch was the initial spark of our friendship because I never would have had the confidence to do it myself.

Throughout the school year, Mrs. Risch helped me with my friendship with Claudia. She moved our desks next to each other. M magically, Claudia was in my assigned group for every school project. Our class created memories together and stored them by making our own scrapbook of the whole year. I still have mine today, tucked under my bookshelf. Now and then, I feel like I can’t do something, or feel hopeless, or worthless. So I look at the scrapbook of my fourth-grade year with Mrs. Risch to give me confidence and reassurance that I can get through whatever is troubling me. Thank you. Mrs. Risch. You are the one who gave me the love, hope, and happiness which pushed me and guided me to success and self worth. You were my teacher. Now, you are my hero.