Bright light shines onto my face as I hover over my Chromebook. I look to the bottom right corner, realizing it’s 4:00 am. One more paragraph, I tell myself. My fingers dance across the keyboard, attempting to get every last word down. The sound of my typing is covered by footsteps approaching my room. I quickly slam the device shut, jumping under the covers with my eyes closed as if I had been asleep. “It's time for bed!” my dad yells as my door swings open. “You can write tomorrow. You need sleep,” he tells me, leaving with my laptop. Will Mr. Roenicke like my paper? I wonder, thinking about the changes I could make. I hear the obnoxious sound of my alarm clock blaring, telling me it's 6:00 am. I jump out of bed, excited to go to school and write. Growing up I made an enemy of writing and dreaded school just because of the time we spent learning to write. I was never talented in the area, so I lacked motivation. My dad, being the stickler he is, forced me to do my English homework despite my dramatic outbursts and refusal. The intimidation I encountered with this subject was my biggest obstacle throughout elementary school. I felt out of place because my mom was such a creative writer. The task always came to her naturally. She wrote with ease and found passion in doing so. We were very similar, so I wondered why I wasn’t the writer she was. For years I beat myself up about it, thinking I just wasn't capable of this form of expression that came naturally to everyone around me. That was until I was put into Mr. Roenicke’s English class and finally began to learn. It was 6th grade when I was suddenly taught differently than I had ever been before, allowing me to enjoy the subject and excel. I was nervous when entering the class because of my bias against writing, but Mr. Roenicke found a way to connect with each student on a personal level and help them individually in the way best fit for them. He made class fun, while still keeping students engaged and teaching. Despite the little faith I had in myself, Mr. Roenicke motivated me to learn. As silly of a reason as it is to finally become inspired to write, I wanted to be recognized for my accomplishments and make my teacher proud. As I started to write more, I realized I loved it. I was so captivated by the hobby and could spend hours just writing. It was such a sudden change that my family wondered what happened. Instead of dreading the subject and looking at writing as something I had to do, I began using it as a personal outlet. Throughout the year, Mr. Roenicke helped me become the writer I never thought I could be, and since then I´ve grown to love the subject more and more. He helped me grow as a learner, find a therapeutic way to express myself, inspired me to take more advanced writing classes, and even solidified my idea to go to school and study something that means the world to me. Without Mr. Roenicke, I wouldn’t have found enjoyment in the thing I’m most passionate about. I wouldn’t have the confidence in myself to write this essay, and I wouldn’t know what to write about. Without the impact Mr. Roenicke made on me I wouldn’t be the student, person, or writer I am today, and I wouldn’t have anyone to thank for helping me find me.