My parents enjoy retelling the tales of my youthful misjudgments, especially when they walked into my bedroom to find it turned into an imaginary classroom. My stuffed animals were lined up with paws crossed, attentively listening to me as I stood at a makeshift chalkboard, instructing them in the week's spelling words. While my first "students"—Mr. Ted E. Bear and Miss Flop E. Rabbit—were not real; my method was: One day, I would be a teacher. How I would go about it has varied during particular tellings of the story, but across all those versions, the through-line has been, "You're going to be a teacher." At first, I pursued becoming a high school band director, which accurately represented my adoration for music. After one semester in college, I wasn't sure that my adoration would extend into those roles. I regrouped and followed my other love: reading. More than anything, I love talking about and listening to the language of books. Once I graduated, I jumped into teaching ninth-grade English. I did so with the full knowledge that gaining students' attention in their first year of high school would set the stage for their later academic achievement. Over the years, I moved from teaching freshman English to gravitating toward more advanced classes, including AP and IB English. I did not stop at just those courses, though. I also took on the role of Department Chair, trying to ensure that we reach as many students as possible because I knew that if a student found even a marginal amount of success at reading and writing, it could serve as a pivot toward achieving future dreams. Yet, my career path has progressed far beyond the classroom. As I acquired more experience, I became ever more conscious of the inequities within our educational system. My school has a diverse student body, yet many advanced classes do not emulate this diversity. I cannot accept such skewed statistics. My mission has more than the art of teaching kids to appreciate what Shakespeare had to say about love and the timeless themes of his works. I am working toward a doctoral degree in educational organization, powered by the determination to effect change beyond my classroom, pushing my influence into the educational system. It is a policy of inequity with which I take inordinate exception. Men and women at the tops of our school systems are forming figures, fingering numbers, and fashioning language that promises payoffs for the taxpayers who are underwriting America's stunningly expensive educational theme park. I am fortunate to shape the dreams of my students. I am excited to take on a new role. My career has had a couple of joyful, meandering turns; from sticking to traditional teaching methods to advocating for systemic changes that pay off for the kinds of kids who populate my classroom, my professional aspiration remains unchanged. I want kids to think that what they do in school matters because it probably will in some future context. And, like most educators who work with kids, I sense that my job primarily consists of mixing up the right kinds of ingredients with the right kinds of kids and then praying some of them take off kinds of ways that kids sometimes do when they start to feel their work pull together.

Education is the foundation of a prosperous society, and as a teacher, I imagine myself as part of something important. Education is a noble calling because it not only passes on knowledge and critical thinking but also prepares the next generation of workers and community leaders. As an educator, I am committed to creating a classroom environment that cherishes and promotes diversity and inclusivity. Understanding and respecting the rich tapestry of cultures and subcultures that enrich human life is paramount in our increasingly interconnected world. Each student's unique cultural background is a valuable asset that enhances our collective learning experience. These skills will transfer with students as they leave the classroom setting and enter the outside world. I also use methods that are responsive to the students' diverse cultures and teach in a way that grants priority to the many different kinds of voices found in the syllabus's dreamscape. If not heard, these voices would impoverish the narrative of human experience for the students and discourage them from drawing on their own human narratives in shaping human society for the better. Moreover, I firmly believe in the transformative power of experiential learning—a pedagogical approach emphasizing real-life experiences' importance. This is a principle that is instilled in introductory pedagogical classes. Students are often tasked with service-learning projects in their second or third year of study. These projects connect community service with learning, encouraging students to reflect on their experiences deeply. Critics argue that this approach lacks rigor and benefits the participants more than the community being served. However, I see service in this form as a pathway to citizenship, leading to the development of better citizens. My educational philosophy extends its beneficial effects even outside the classroom walls. I seek to foster not just knowledgeable but also compassionate and understanding individuals. I do this in the hopes that these community members, full of vigor, will take virtues like empathy, critical thinking, and a tightly woven sense of civic engagement. As a result, they will help contribute to a society that is making many positive advances. They might experience some backlash as they strive for what is right, but in the long run, I think they will make the world even more history-worthy—and with few exceptions, the world is not exactly an awful place even now. In conclusion, my vision for a better society through education is firmly rooted in the principles of inclusivity, hands-on learning, and community involvement. I aspire to be the kind of teacher who inspires the next generation to be innovative and socially engaged. These two qualities are often misconstrued as synonymous, but it's possible to be wise and isolated. On the other hand, many socially engaged individuals may not be exceptionally bright. Our world truly needs more people who possess both wisdom and the skills necessary to actively contribute to society's functioning.

My deep passion for teaching is based on my belief in education's life-altering potential. I have had some excellent experiences that have allowed me to really engage with this belief. Working and teaching students for over twenty years has been a daily reminder that teaching alters worlds, mine and theirs. It lights up paths not always taken. To me, teaching is a way to give back to the community and to mold the future. The role of an educator is to do far more than relay the facts and figures that headline knowledge. The true work of an educator is to inspire. My high school English teacher inspired me. She taught me how to think before entering into a debate and how to think critically about everything. Each book we studied allowed us to glimpse at life in a different culture or a chance to view the world differently. A classroom is a place to do all this and is also a place where diverse perspectives should be cultivated. As an educator, I strive to follow my mentors' guidance and be a good model, inspiring my classes similarly. I want to create a truly inclusive and engaging learning atmosphere. In my room, I envision students who embrace the kind of critical thinking for which our discipline is known and that I, too, profess to practice. I want students to not only master the classroom content but also view themselves as confident problem solvers who pursue passions and interests for which they could be truly and madly devoted. These skills transfer with them long after they have left our school. High school is the time for students to try out who their future selves will be, and as their teacher, it is my job to help them navigate and find the right fit for them. I want my students to feel that they truly belong in my classroom, and I want them to feel empowered. I work hard to be the sort of mentor they can count on to give them good, solid advice when needed. I hope that in my classroom, they are becoming the sort of people who can set good goals for themselves and who will achieve whatever they dream of achieving. But my hope for my students goes beyond the academic realm. I want them to be good citizens, and I want them to have a depth of understanding that enables them to be compassionate. Teaching is more than a profession; it is a calling that harmonizes with my aspirations and values. When I think of the next chapter of my life, I think of the kind of profound impact that I know teachers can have on their students. My early experiences in the classroom made it clear that I can foster an environment where remarkable learning can occur. By returning to school, I am striving to continue the lifelong learner model for my students and gain the skills and strategies needed to support them.

The album "GUTS" by Olivia Rodrigo serves as a potent anthem for today's young people, distilling the intricate emotions of teenage life into a form that resonates with me. Rodrigo's lyrics pack so many feelings into just a few words; however, let's not overlook that "GUTS" is, at heart, a potent piece of songwriting. One of the album's best tracks, “All-American Bitch,” encapsulates the intense pressure that many of us feel to conform to society's expectations. Rodrigo's biting commentary on the facade of "perfection" mirrors my own struggles with that almost overwhelming desire just to fit in. I often felt I was juggling multiple identities (student, athlete, daughter) while being pulled in different directions. The lyrics, "I'm a mess, but I'm trying my best," resonate with me; they reflect the internal conflict I faced when I was regularly projecting an image of success while also grappling with self-doubt, anxiety, and the knowledge that some number of my "successes" were actually just really long odds that had paid off. The theme of self-discovery is furthered in "Vampire," where Rodrigo expresses the painful process of letting go of toxic relationships. This song struck a chord at a time when I was tangled in friendships that drained my energy and self-worth. Rodrigo's lyrics, "You were my sunshine, but now you're just a vampire," really encapsulate the bittersweet nature of these relationships. Growth often comes from uncomfortable or painful realizations. "Vampire" taught me the importance of surrounding myself with healthy or "sunshiny" connections. Furthermore, "Pretty Isn't Pretty" investigates the kinds of societal pressures around beauty and self-image, and we all know that these kinds of pressures are even more multiplied in the current day and age of social media. Rodrigo strips the act of songwriting down to its most intimate form and puts together a work where she shares what makes her unique and relatable. Listening to this song, I feel like Rodrigo is speaking directly to me—telling me that I am more than the sum of my parts and that whatever quirks or not-quite-right characteristics I have don't diminish my worth or beauty. In the end, "GUTS" has significatm impact on me and how I view life. It has taught me that self-discovery is not straightforward and that the path is replete with obstacles that one may call ups and downs. Rodrigo's ability to give a voice to the not-so-simple emotions of being human has cast my own emotions in a new light, giving me a sense of connection. This emotional validation through her music has made me appreciate the times when I am not entirely secure in who I am as my creative self. "GUTS" is not merely an album. It reflects the kind of mirror that, when looked into, reveals one's true self—blemishes and all. The album cuts deep. Olivia Rodrigo, much like I am coming to understand as an artist, is a potent lyricist who revels in the kind of vulnerability our society too often shames us for. Rodrigo's narrative of self-discovery and growth resonates with me, for the very human but often unfeminine acts of repression and penance that she both celebrates and disdains have all been done to us under the auspices of being "good girls" and repress the very sexual and human selves that we are.

People often proclaim education as the great equalizer. As a powerful tool, it can bridge all divides and enable individuals to seize the full measure of their potential. When I think about why I desire to be a teacher, I remember my parents always encouraging me to embrace every opportunity. I also think of my students, who, in my mind, are just as deserving of opportunities as I was in my youth. When I was young, I realized that not everyone had the same kind of educational opportunities. Some students had excellent schools filled with resources, excellent teachers, and many extracurricular activities that carried into every corner of their lives. However, others lacked the same access to these elements. Seeing those differences fueled my fire to change things. Being a teacher has become the way I can advocate for all students. Education goes far beyond academic success. I know the power of a well-supported education to do something quite profound: to shape individuals to live more contented and healthier lives. That's the kind of world I want for my students. I want to build it for the kids who have my class this year and those who will follow. At the core of my work, I see dreams: my students' dreams, the not-yet-revealed dreams of the selves they will become, and the dreams of a world made better by those for whom I create this space. As a teacher, I have gained a deep appreciation for the necessity of strong relationships with students. I believe having a warm, trusting environment in which my students can learn is essential. I have always been a "people person," but I have become even more oriented toward that with my work to help my students see our classroom as their safe space. I have spent time with my students and gotten to know them in a way that allows me to relate to and serve them better. Additionally, I am firmly dedicated to ongoing professional growth as an educator. I understand that the field of education can change drastically in a short amount of time, and I see just how important it is to stay abreast of the many different and often innovative strategies and technologies that impact the field of education. These "new" things can usually be better understood as the next step in teaching evolution. If I am going to serve my students as their guide through the mysterious, often-covered world of education, I must continually better myself in this area. I have a profound belief in the power of education to change lives. I want to ensure that all students, no matter their background, have access to the quality education I was fortunate to receive. Education pushes society toward a brighter future. The Cochener Family's scholarship would support my push toward this degree. A degree that will empower me to reach many lives in much the same way that the lives of countless educators have reached and influenced me.

The musical "Wicked" draws its audience into a vibrant world of colors, enchanting melodies, and serious themes that linger well after the final curtain. As a college student sorting through the tangled parts of my life, the story of Elphaba and Glinda speaks to me in a way that few other narratives do. I’m not sure if it’s the powerful music, the stirring book, or the exquisite performances I’ve seen that most move me. What I do know is that this tale of a deep, true friendship—almost kindred in its essence—has captivated me. "Wicked" is about friendship and the trials that come with it. It is about Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, and Glinda, the bubbleheaded blonde who is and who was, at least in the past, always a popular girl. They become good friends, which gives "Wicked" its heart despite their initial unbearable annoyances of one another. While they are two different types of girls, they connect, even if that connection is sometimes as taut as a double strand of DNA. In this musical, we are shown that true friendship, when granted access to sail through rough waters, can achieve the same sustenance as any other friendship. In addition, "Wicked" explores identity and the search for self-acceptance. Elphaba's transformation from a freakish outcast to a powerful figure makes one question the nature of our society's norms and their inherent expectations. Her struggle to be at peace with her uncommon identity resonates with me as I bumble along the path of self-discovery in a world that would often have me conform to its mold. Elphaba surely fits the mold of a somewhat pathetic figure for whom one can almost feel sorry, but her story is also one of triumph. The act of embracing those things that make one different (and thus unique) is portrayed as being an act of bravery in "Wicked." The musical also deals with perception versus reality, pushing us to consider the kinds of stories we accept and don't accept. The Wizard is an excellent metaphor for the types of power dynamics in our world, where people at the top sometimes mislead us to keep us under control. And if this isn't a theme that is relevant to our society today, I'm not sure what is. "Wicked," at its core, asks us to engage with the concept of truth and to think critically about the narratives we ourselves are not only part of, but also the kinds we allow others to tell when we're not around. "Wicked" transcends its status as a simple Broadway musical; it powerfully investigates the themes of friendship, identity, and the search for truth. It's a moving show with a magnificent score and a nearly irresistible charm. It's left a mark on my heart and mind. As I go through school—and now, just a little beyond it—I'm reminded of the experience of traveling with Elphaba and Glinda. I'm encouraged to embrace my individuality, be more mindful of the connections I make with others, and be undeterred in my pursuit of truth and justice. Elphaba and Glinda remind me that I can author the narrative of my own life. For all of this, I say many thanks once more to "Wicked."

My admiration for LeBron James goes beyond his incredible athleticism. He is not just an extraordinarily gifted athlete but a player with an array of basketball skills few can match. LeBron's versatility on the court is unmatched. He can and does play multiple positions, but what he showcases is the unique ability to be not just a scorer but also an elite passer and a dependable defender. His basketball IQ allows him to elevate the game of those around him. The decisions he makes on the floor are what enable his talent and the talent of those around him to shine. In addition, the sheer length of LeBron's presence in a cutthroat league, as well as the marvelous survival of his consistency, will likely be commended in the future. He has performed at an elite level for 20 years and shows no signs of winding down. And while we know him now as a player unparalleled in power and finesse, capable of dominating opponents at all sorts of positions, he has indeed "adapted" to survive in the league because he surely couldn't be an All-Star any longer if he played the way he did when he was 26. LeBron James has accomplished a great deal on and off the basketball court. He has achieved nearly everything a player could ever dream and execute on the court. With those achievements, LeBron has also significantly impacted off the court. He utilizes his incredible platform and voice for what many see as the right causes. He champions social justice. He pushes for much-needed reform in our education system. He is a devotee of community development. Whether through public discourse or his remarkable philanthropy, he multiplies the positive effects of his presence many times. The argument over whether LeBron James can be considered the greatest basketball player ever rages on. Advocates of Michael Jordan love to point out that he has six rings, is as competitive as they come, and has produced more iconic moments in this sport's playoffs than anyone else. But LeBron has a pretty solid argument in his own right. His all-around game is better than Jordan's; he's also been able to elevate his teams and carry them to new heights and the depths of the playoffs. As for a simple "sustained excellence" argument, he's also been doing it longer than Jordan. Ultimately, deciding who is the greatest player of all time is a matter of personal judgment that can never be resolved. It can and often does influence the writer's perspective when he or she is making a case for one player over another. Of course, one would imagine that when influencing a writer's perspective upon making a case, the factor of unexpectedness (or the lack thereof) also comes into play. After all, it might seem a little silly to say that someone is the greatest player of all time if he or she was only a decent player in a very different era of basketball. To conclude, being a fan of LeBron James is not just about appreciating his rare basketball skills and plentiful on-court accomplishments. It's also about following a person who offers up influences that are almost unparalleled in professional basketball history—both on and off the court. We can debate whether LeBron is the greatest of all time, but there's no doubt he impacts the game in ways few ever have and probably few ever will.

Mental health is a basic building block of our lives that determines our thinking, feeling, and behavior. It molds how we handle stress, our relationships with others, and our decisions As an educator, many students have come to me with severe mental health issues or confided in me their problems. It has been eye-opening to see the toll that mental health issues take not just on the affected students but also on their friends, family, and the school community as a whole. When a student is unable to keep up with classwork because of a mental health issue, it creates a rift in the academic social contract. However, the academic social contract matters only because it is a necessary precondition for achieving a worthwhile degree. On the other side of those mental health issues—that's the side that can often seem like a "secret" border crossing—is the way that the problem affects the mentally troubled student as well as the people in that student's broader social circle. The focus on the significance of mental health has motivated me to adopt a comprehensive, whole-child basis for my teaching. I work to create a classroom where all students feel safe and supported. I incorporate social-emotional learning into my curriculum, which is not a separate part of what we do but a key, integral aspect of daily life together in our classroom. We are learning to cope with the pressures of today's world. We are learning mindfulness. We are practicing being present with one another. And all of this is happening alongside our content learning. Moreover, I have better recognized that my impact can only go so far. More and more, students seem to suffer in ways that are hard to understand, and I felt that my institution was asking me to be some kind of life coach for students. Not only do I not have the qualifications to do that, but life coaching—interpreting the path someone's life should take or even might take—isn't part of my vision. Ensuring my own mental well-being is crucial for me as an educator, but I work at it very purposefully. The first thing I do is engage in routine self-care practices. Personally, I find mindfulness meditation to be a powerful tool—I have been using it for nearly a decade and have experienced its beneficial effects firsthand. I also count on regular exercise, and even though I have experienced an uptick in the weight of my responsibilities, I have not let that interfere with my maintaining a healthy work-life balance. Students' mental health is a crucial aspect of their education that we sometimes take for granted. As a teacher, I have seen what happens when students struggle with mental health and when nobody seems to care about that struggle. I know what it is like to hold an assembly where the predominant message is to first "be kind" and then offer "a safe space" where it is alright if we "don't feel alright." These are the same platitudes that many educators have dished out for years. You know what? They don't work. Pretend serendipity doesn't either. There are no magic words; just listening with an open heart and being willing to act.

This time of year, my students are preparing for graduation. There are parties and celebrations, and our school colors drape everything that doesn’t move. It’s a happy time as students and teachers celebrate not just the end of the year but the exciting new journeys ahead as they leave the safety of high school to embrace their next steps. Yet, during this season of joy, I always think about Brooks. Brooks was that student who could make the entire class laugh; his smile could light up a room, even in the most stressful moments. He wasn’t one of the “cool kids,” but his easy-going nature allowed him to move seamlessly between different social groups. He didn’t love English but tried his best in my class, often willing to go the extra mile with extra credit. As his senior year drew close, he was accepted to his dream college and looked forward to spending his last summer at home. Out of the hundreds of students I’ve seen cross the graduation stage, Brooks was one I never got to see take that step. A month before graduation, he died by suicide. It’s been thirteen years since we lost him, and every spring, I wonder where he should be on his journey now. I ask myself: What did I miss? Could I have done something differently? How could we, as educators, have better supported him? While I’ll never have those answers, Brooks’ story changed me forever. Since losing him, I’ve made it my mission to never take a student’s smile at face value. I’ve learned to prioritize relationships and create safe, open spaces for students to express themselves. While I saw Brooks’ big smile and friendly demeanor, I missed the more profound pain he was carrying. That experience taught me how crucial it is for students to feel heard, not just seen. In the years since I’ve channeled my grief into advocacy. I’ve worked with the National Education Association to promote mental health awareness and secure funding for programs supporting students and educators. These efforts have resulted in required annual training that equips teachers with strategies to support the mental well-being of both students and staff. The COVID-19 pandemic heightened the urgency of this work. Students’ lives were upended by virtual schooling, social isolation, and the loss of routine, leading to a dramatic increase in mental health challenges. However, I’ve also noticed a shift. Students are now more willing to speak up about their mental health needs and to advocate for themselves when they’re overwhelmed. This growing self-awareness gives me hope. Mental health doesn’t discriminate. People of all ages, backgrounds, and circumstances need support and safe spaces to process their thoughts and emotions. As an educator, I am uniquely positioned to provide that space for learning and emotional growth. My classroom will always be a safe space where students feel seen, heard, and prepared for their next steps. Next week, 382 seniors will graduate. I will still miss those we lost along the way, but I will never stop fighting for the ones who are here, ensuring they have the tools and support to reach their goals.

TEAM USA provided a wealth of strong athletes to cheer for during this year’s Olympics. While Simone Biles’ powerful comeback was inspiring and Katie Ledecky breaking records was a joy to watch, I found myself captivated by a new favorite: Ilona Maher, the 28-year-old American rugby player. Ilona first caught my attention through her lighthearted social media content, where she chronicled her experiences in the Olympic Village. Despite women's rugby often flying under the radar, she made the sport accessible and exciting to new audiences. Her funny and engaging videos during the games gave fans a behind-the-scenes look at Olympic life, creating a connection that went beyond athletic performance. Her videos offered a refreshing break from the heavy political rhetoric of the summer, allowing fans to focus on her infectious positivity and humor. What makes Ilona Maher even more admirable is her commitment to being a role model. On the rugby field, she showcases resilience, grit, and teamwork. Off the field, she advocates for mental health awareness, body positivity, and embracing individuality. For example, she regularly talks about her own mental health journey, inspiring others to prioritize self-care. Ilona uses her platform to encourage young people, especially women, to be confident in their own skin and to chase their dreams unapologetically. Her ability to balance humor and authenticity while breaking down stereotypes makes her a standout athlete, and it's why she's become my favorite to cheer for.

As an older student, it may surprise people to know that Billie Eilish is a consistent voice playing on my radio. I appreciate her sound, which stands out from every other famous song, and her ability to inspire and console, depending on what I'm going through as I listen to her lyrics. “Bad Guy”: I can still remember the first time I heard this song. I didn't know what it was- it sounded so different from everything else/This song stands out for its catchy beat and unique production. The lyrics play with themes of rebellion and self-identity, which can resonate with listeners who appreciate its bold and unapologetic tone. The tune is both haunting and uplifting. “When the Party’s Over”: Also known for its haunting melody and emotional depth, this song explores themes of heartbreak and vulnerability. I relate to it because it captures the raw emotions of letting go and the pain of separation. It's been a go-to song on my soundtrack when I've had to make hard decisions or even dealt with heartbreak. “Everything I Wanted” delves into the pressures of fame and the importance of support systems. While I don't have any experience with the pressure of fame, it resonates with me because I do have days when I feel isolated, and I can understand the importance of having someone to lean on during tough times.

My parents still love telling stories about my childhood antics. They'd come upstairs to find my room filled with every stuffed animal I could gather, lined up neatly while I stood in front, "teaching" the week's spelling words. Though my memories of those first students (Mr. Ted E. Bear and Miss Flop E. Rabbit) are a bit fuzzy, it's clear that my dream of becoming a teacher started way back in those bedroom-turned-classroom days. While I always knew I wanted to be an educator, how I would impact my students wasn't always as clear. I started college planning to be a high school band director but soon discovered my passion lay in a different area. After my first semester, I switched to a double major in secondary education and English. Although I had always loved reading, my high school teachers hadn't nurtured that passion. I believed I could return to the high school setting and show students how their interests could be connected to reading. After graduating, I became a ninth-grade English teacher, knowing that if I could capture students' attention during their first year of high school, I could provide them with a foundation for a successful high school experience. After a few years of teaching freshman English, I knew I wanted a way to support more students. I was trained to teach advanced courses to support students as they prepared for college studies. I also became Department Chair to ensure students across our school were getting the best possible English education. In these roles, I happily worked with thousands of students to appreciate and enjoy the importance of reading and writing studies and the impact it could have on their future goals. My career path is far from complete. As education evolves, so do I. For the past few years, I have dedicated myself to challenging policies and practices that hinder our students' academic success, driven by a deep commitment to social and racial justice in public schools. Our school is 50% African American and 40% Caucasian, yet over 80% of our advanced-level courses are filled with Caucasian students. Refusing to accept these disparities, I have collaborated with school administration, colleagues, and students to develop practices encouraging and supporting all students in gaining acceptance into advanced courses. My mission has moved beyond just teaching students to appreciate reading but has become to ensuring every student has the opportunity to succeed, regardless of their background in whatever their post-high school plans will be. My career path seemed clear as a young girl schooling her fuzzy animals. However, it has taken numerous twists and turns, with each move driven by my desire to impact future generations. My work with students and the systems that shape their educational experience is centered on ensuring they receive the best possible foundation. I understand that once they leave high school, whether they pursue higher education or enter the workforce, the lessons we teach—both in and out of the classroom—prepare them for these next steps.

Taylor Swift's music, especially during her Eras Tour, has been a source of inspiration and connection for many, including myself as a high school teacher. Her songs are more than just entertainment and have become a bridge that allows me to connect with my students on a deeper level. Through this connection, I have fostered meaningful relationships and supported my students' success. At the beginning of the school year, I noticed how many of my students entered the room wearing their Eras tour shirts. They would discuss her music, lyrics, and concerts with enthusiasm. Recognizing an opportunity to build rapport, I let them see my inner Swiftie. This experience opened my eyes to the power of music as a universal language that transcends age and background. As I engaged with my students about Taylor Swift, I noticed a shift in our classroom dynamics. Our shared interest in her music created a common ground, making it easier for students to approach me. Conversations that started with discussing a song or a concert often evolved into deeper discussions about their lives, dreams, and challenges. I learned that many of my students found solace and motivation in Taylor Swift's lyrics, which often address themes of resilience, self-discovery, and empowerment. Taylor Swift's music also helped me appreciate the importance of authenticity in teaching. Her songs are often deeply personal, reflecting her own experiences and emotions. This authenticity resonates with her fans, creating a sense of connection and trust. Inspired by this, I started sharing more of my own experiences and challenges with my students. I found that being open and vulnerable made my students more comfortable doing the same. This mutual trust fostered a supportive classroom environment where students felt safe to express themselves and seek help when needed. Our classroom environment changed as my seniors saw me as a person and not just a teacher. More importantly, the Eras Tour itself was a lesson in perseverance and evolution. Taylor Swift's journey through different musical styles and personal growth reminded me of the importance of adaptability and continuous self-improvement. As a teacher, I embraced this mindset, continuously seeking new ways to engage and support my students. Whether it was incorporating new teaching strategies, integrating technology, or simply being more attuned to their needs, I strived to evolve alongside my students. When my seniors became stressed out or too worried about the future, Taylor's words were there to lift them up or just lighten the mood. By the end of the school year, the connections we built through our shared love for Taylor Swift's music had a tangible impact on my students' success. Many of them expressed how our conversations and the supportive classroom environment helped them navigate the challenges of their senior year. Their academic achievements, increased confidence, and sense of community were a testament to the power of connection and support. Taylor Swift's music, particularly during the Eras Tour, has not only enriched my life but also transformed my teaching approach. By connecting with my students through our shared appreciation for her music, I was able to build meaningful relationships, offer personalized support, and create a classroom environment conducive to their success. This experience reinforced the importance of finding common ground, being authentic, and continuously evolving as an educator. Taylor Swift's influence extended beyond her music, leaving an indelible mark on my journey as a teacher and the lives of my students.

My parents still love telling stories about my childhood antics. They'd come upstairs to find my room filled with every stuffed animal I could gather, lined up neatly while I stood in front, "teaching" the week's spelling words. Though my memories of those first students (Mr. Ted E. Bear and Miss Flop E. Rabbit) are a bit fuzzy, it's clear that my dream of becoming a teacher started way back in those bedroom-turned-classroom days. While I always knew I wanted to be an educator, how I would impact my students wasn't always as clear. I started college planning to be a high school band director but soon discovered my passion lay in a different area. After my first semester, I switched to a double major in secondary education and English. Although I had always loved reading, my high school teachers hadn't nurtured that passion. I believed I could return to the high school setting and show students how their interests could be connected to reading. After graduating, I became a ninth-grade English teacher, knowing that if I could capture students' attention during their first year of high school, I could provide them with a foundation for a successful high school experience. After a few years teaching freshman English I knew I wanted a way to support more students. I was trained to teach advanced courses (both AP and IB English) to support juniors and seniors as they prepared for college studies. I also took on the role of Department Chair to ensure students across our school were getting the best possible English education. In these roles, I happily worked with thousands of students to not only appreciate but to enjoy the importance of reading and writing studies and the impact it could have on their future goals. My career path is far from complete. As education evolves, so do I. For the past few years, I have dedicated myself to challenging policies and practices that hinder our students' academic success, driven by a deep commitment to social and racial justice in public schools. Our school is 50% African American and 40% Caucasian, yet over 80% of our advanced-level courses are filled with Caucasian students. Refusing to accept these disparities, I have collaborated with school administration, colleagues, and students to develop practices that encourage and support all students in gaining acceptance into advanced courses. My mission has moved beyond just teaching students to appreciate reading but has become to ensuring every student has the opportunity to succeed, regardless of their background in whatever their post-high school plans will be. Currently, my career path has me returning to school to obtain my Doctorate in Educational Organization. It has become my dream to increase my scope beyond just my classroom to the entire school and then the educational system as a whole to challenge and develop the systems that could support and help all students reach their academic goals. As a young girl schooling her fuzzy animals, my career path seemed clear. However, it has taken numerous twists and turns, with each move driven by my desire to impact future generations. My work with students, and the systems that shape their educational experience, is centered on ensuring they receive the best possible foundation. I understand that once they leave high school, whether they pursue higher education or enter the workforce, the lessons we teach—both in and out of the classroom—prepare them for these next steps. I feel beyond fortunate to play a small role in my students' futures and look forward to the experiences this new path will provide me to support them.

My parents still love telling stories about my childhood antics. They'd come upstairs to find my room filled with every stuffed animal I could gather, lined up neatly while I stood in front, "teaching" the week's spelling words. Though my memories of those first students (Mr. Ted E. Bear and Miss Flop E. Rabbit) are a bit fuzzy, it's clear that my dream of becoming a teacher started way back in those bedroom-turned-classroom days. While I always knew I wanted to be an educator, how I would impact my students wasn't always as clear. I started college planning to be a high school band director but soon discovered my passion lay in a different area. After my first semester, I switched to a double major in secondary education and English. Although I had always loved reading, my high school teachers hadn't nurtured that passion. I believed I could return to the high school setting and show students how their interests could be connected to reading. After graduating, I became a ninth-grade English teacher, knowing that if I could capture students' attention during their first year of high school, I could provide them with a foundation for a successful high school experience. After a few years teaching freshman English I knew I wanted a way to support more students. I was trained to teach advanced courses (both AP and IB English) to support juniors and seniors as they prepared for college studies. I also took on the role of Department Chair to ensure students across our school were getting the best possible English education. In these roles, I happily worked with thousands of students to not only appreciate but to enjoy the importance of reading and writing studies and the impact it could have on their future goals. My career path is far from complete. As education evolves, so do I. For the past few years, I have dedicated myself to challenging policies and practices that hinder our students' academic success, driven by a deep commitment to social and racial justice in public schools. Our school is 50% African American and 40% Caucasian, yet over 80% of our advanced-level courses are filled with Caucasian students. Refusing to accept these disparities, I have collaborated with school administration, colleagues, and students to develop practices that encourage and support all students in gaining acceptance into advanced courses. My mission has moved beyond just teaching students to appreciate reading but has become to ensuring every student has the opportunity to succeed, regardless of their background in whatever their post-high school plans will be. Currently, my career path has me returning to school to obtain my Doctorate in Educational Organization. It has become my dream to increase my scope beyond just my classroom to the entire school and then the educational system as a whole to challenge and develop the systems that could support and help all students reach their academic goals. As a young girl schooling her fuzzy animals, my career path seemed clear. However, it has taken numerous twists and turns, with each move driven by my desire to impact future generations. My work with students, and the systems that shape their educational experience, is centered on ensuring they receive the best possible foundation. I understand that once they leave high school, whether they pursue higher education or enter the workforce, the lessons we teach—both in and out of the classroom—prepare them for these next steps. I feel beyond fortunate to play a small role in my students' futures and look forward to the experiences this new path will provide me to support them.

My parents still love telling stories about my childhood antics. They'd come upstairs to find my room filled with every stuffed animal I could gather, lined up neatly while I stood in front, "teaching" the week's spelling words. Though my memories of those first students (Mr. Ted E. Bear and Miss Flop E. Rabbit) are a bit fuzzy, it's clear that my dream of becoming a teacher started way back in those bedroom-turned-classroom days. While I always knew I wanted to be an educator, how I would impact my students wasn't always as clear. I started college planning to be a high school band director but soon discovered my passion lay in a different area. After my first semester, I switched to a double major in secondary education and English. Although I had always loved reading, my high school teachers hadn't nurtured that passion. I believed I could return to the high school setting and show students how their interests could be connected to reading. After graduating, I became a ninth-grade English teacher, knowing that if I could capture students' attention during their first year of high school, I could provide them with a foundation for a successful high school experience. After a few years teaching freshman English I knew I wanted a way to support more students. I was trained to teach advanced courses (both AP and IB English) to support juniors and seniors as they prepared for college studies. I also took on the role of Department Chair to ensure students across our school were getting the best possible English education. In these roles, I happily worked with thousands of students to not only appreciate but to enjoy the importance of reading and writing studies and the impact it could have on their future goals. My career path is far from complete. As education evolves, so do I. For the past few years, I have dedicated myself to challenging policies and practices that hinder our students' academic success, driven by a deep commitment to social and racial justice in public schools. Our school is 50% African American and 40% Caucasian, yet over 80% of our advanced-level courses are filled with Caucasian students. Refusing to accept these disparities, I have collaborated with school administration, colleagues, and students to develop practices that encourage and support all students in gaining acceptance into advanced courses. My mission has moved beyond just teaching students to appreciate reading but has become to ensuring every student has the opportunity to succeed, regardless of their background in whatever their post-high school plans will be. Currently, my career path has me returning to school to obtain my Doctorate in Educational Organization. It has become my dream to increase my scope beyond just my classroom to the entire school and then the educational system as a whole to challenge and develop the systems that could support and help all students reach their academic goals. As a young girl schooling her fuzzy animals, my career path seemed clear. However, it has taken numerous twists and turns, with each move driven by my desire to impact future generations. My work with students, and the systems that shape their educational experience, is centered on ensuring they receive the best possible foundation. I understand that once they leave high school, whether they pursue higher education or enter the workforce, the lessons we teach—both in and out of the classroom—prepare them for these next steps. I feel beyond fortunate to play a small role in my students' futures and look forward to the experiences this new path will provide me to support them.

This time of year my students are getting ready for graduation. There are parties and celebrations and our school colors cover everything that doesn’t move. It’s a happy time as students and teachers celebrate not just the end of the year but the new journey that awaits them as they prepare to leave the safety of high school for their next steps. This time of year, I always think about Brooks. Brooks was that student who could make the entire class laugh: his smile could light up the room even during the most stressful of times. While he wasn’t one of the “cool kids” his affable nature allowed him to cross between social groups easily. He didn’t love English, but he tried his best in my class and was always willing to do extra credit. As his senior year came to an end, he was accepted to his favorite college and looking forward to his last summer at home. Out of the numerous students who have come through my room and celebrated the graduation milestone, he was one who I never got to see walk across the graduation stage. A month before his graduation, Brooks died by suicide. It has been 13 years since we lost him, and for 13 years each spring I think about where he should be in his life journey. What could I have done to change this sad outcome? As teachers, what did we miss that could have supported him? While I have not been able to find answers, since losing Brooks, I have made it my mission to go beyond taking a student’s smile at face value. I’ve learned, and I’ve worked with other teachers, to recognize the importance of establishing relationships and a safe environment with our students. While I saw the big smile and joking personality, I missed so much that Brooks didn’t feel comfortable enough to share. My heart continues to hurt for Brooks and his family, but in the time since we lost him, I’ve worked to change this hurt into help for other students. My work began with opening conversations and minds around mental health. To break down these misconceptions and barriers, I worked with the National Education to develop resolutions and funding to support students to establish programs and support for educators and students. These programs have led to required trainings for educators and strategies to support adults and students. Covid further changed my goals and emphasized the need to shine a light on our students’ mental health. Since 2020 our students have had an increased need for mental health support and our teachers need more help supporting students than ever before. Virtual schools, closed restaurants, and time alone changed the way our students lived and their goals. However, in the time since Covid, I have noticed a change in the way students respond to their own mental health needs. Because of what they’ve gone through, more of them are willing to ask for help. When my students get overwhelmed, they are more willing to stand up for their needs. It is clear that people, regardless of age, location, gender, or education level need other people. We need a safe space to navigate our thoughts and feelings, and we need a place to feel heard. As an educator, I am in a unique and important position to support students. More than just learning about reading and history, my classroom will continue to be that space they need to grow and be prepared for their future steps. Next week 382 seniors will graduate. I will still miss the ones who didn’t make it, but I will never stop helping all students reach their goals.