When I think about why I want to be a teacher, my mind doesn’t just go to academics, lesson plans, or standardized tests. I think about the individual children whose lives I’ve touched in ways that aren’t about textbooks and are all about the heart. I’ve always believed that making a difference in a child’s life goes far beyond the classroom; there are two moments that stay with me as proof of what real impact looks like.
One student I currently coach on my elementary school basketball team stands out. He’s talented, hard-working, respectful, and everything you want in a player. His ball-handling, determination, and leadership shine every time he steps on the court. But I started to notice something: he didn’t have decent basketball shoes. He was giving it his all in worn-out sneakers that offered no support or grip. I could see how hard he was working and how much he cared, and I couldn’t ignore it.
One day, I gently asked him about his shoes. He shrugged and said, “My family can’t really afford new ones right now.” His response was casual, but I could tell it affected him. Having played basketball for over ten years, I know how important the right gear is, not just for performance but for confidence. So, I reached out to his family. I asked for permission to buy him a new pair of basketball shoes, and after a warm conversation, they agreed. The next time we had practice, I gave them to him, his dream shoes, the Reverse Grinch Kobe’s. These shoes were extremely difficult to find, especially in his size, but I would do it over and over again for this child. His reaction was unforgettable. He lit up with pure joy and gratitude. He couldn’t stop smiling, and thanking me continuously, promising that he would provide the utmost care for them. The way he carried himself that day, with pride, excitement, and confidence reminded me why I do what I do.
It was never about the shoes. It was about showing him that someone cared, that his effort was noticed, and that he mattered. That moment reminded me that teachers and coaches can support kids in ways that make a lasting impact on their self-worth.
Around the same time, I was working with one of my 3rd-grade students who had dyslexia. He struggled with letter recognition and often mixed up similar letters, especially “b” “p” “q” and “d”, which made reading feel like a mountain he couldn’t climb. But I saw the determination in him. He wanted to improve, and I wanted to help him get there. So, I made it my mission.
Each week, we worked closely together, coming up with strategies that fit him. We practiced sight words, used colored overlays, tried tracing letters in sand, and created visual cues to help him remember the differences between letters. I learned to meet him where he was, adjusting my approach with patience, empathy, and imagination. We celebrated small wins, like reading five sight words in a row without help, and big victories, like reading an entire sentence independently.
The most powerful part was how much he began to look forward to our time together. What once frustrated him became something he eagerly anticipated. Week after week, I saw his confidence and skills grow. Eventually, he could read short stories and recognize words easily. Watching his progress was one of the proudest moments of my life. It wasn’t just that he was learning; it was that he believed in himself again. I could see the pride in his face when he read aloud and the way he’d glance at me to see if I noticed, and I always did.
These two moments, one on the basketball court and the other during our reading sessions, are why I want to become a teacher. They reflect everything I stand for: showing up, going beyond expectations, and investing in children not just as students, but as human beings with real needs, dreams, and potential. The classroom is just one part of where learning happens. True teaching happens in the quiet moments, the one-on-one breakthroughs, and the small acts of kindness that stay with a child for life.
I believe in being the kind of teacher whose impact extends far beyond the school walls. I want to be someone my students can trust and turn to, whether they’re struggling with math, reading, or something completely outside of school. I want to be the teacher who notices, who steps in, and who always finds a way to give support.
As I work toward my degree in education, I carry these experiences with me as reminders of the kind of educator I want to be. I’m not just getting ready to teach academic content; I’m preparing to lead with compassion, respond to students’ needs, and make a lasting difference in their lives. Whether it’s helping a child feel seen, helping them believe in their abilities, or giving them a small gift that means the world, I know that every child deserves someone who will fight for their success—and I want to be that person.