I didn’t always want to be a teacher. In fact, for a long time, I didn’t believe I was smart enough to become one. In elementary school, I was placed in what were considered the “lower classes” and enrolled in basic skills programs. I struggled with reading and writing, and school often felt confusing, frustrating, embarrassing, and lonely. At the time, no one knew I was dyslexic—I just knew I was different, and that difference felt like a disadvantage. Everything started to change in fourth grade, thanks to two people who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself: my mom and my basic skills teacher. My mom pushed the school to test me, and because of her persistence, I was finally diagnosed with dyslexia. For the first time, I understood that I wasn’t “bad” at school, my brain just worked differently. That diagnosis gave me access to tools, but more importantly, it gave me back my self-worth. My fourth-grade basic skills teacher played a huge role in that transformation. She didn’t just teach me; she encouraged me, adapted lessons for me, and celebrated small victories that others might have overlooked. Her support made me feel seen, capable, and hopeful for the first time in my academic life. Watching her advocate for me made me realize the kind of impact one teacher can have, which is what planted the seed for my own path. Because of those two women, I’m inspired to become the kind of educator who notices the quiet struggles, who listens closely, and who gives students the tools to believe in themselves. I plan to use my own experiences to show students that challenges don’t define them and that needing help doesn’t make them less intelligent. I want to normalize learning differences and teach students that everyone has a unique way of processing the world and that it’s something to be proud of. As a future teacher, I hope to create a classroom that is not only inclusive but empowering. I plan to implement strategies like multisensory instruction, visual aids, flexible seating, and emotional check-ins that make all types of learners feel supported. I want my students to know that their brains are not broken or behind, they are simply wired in a way that deserves respect and understanding. I also want to foster strong communication with parents, just like my mom modeled. A parent’s voice can be powerful, especially when it comes to advocating for early intervention, and I want to be a teacher who works in partnership with families. Beyond academics, I believe strongly in the importance of emotional growth and confidence-building during the early years of school. I want to make sure my students feel like their classroom is a safe space where they can ask questions, make mistakes, and grow without fear of judgment. I know how it feels to shrink into yourself because you’re afraid of looking “slow” or “wrong.” I never want my students to feel that way. If anything, I want to be the teacher who encourages them to take up space, use their voice, and be proud of their progress. Teaching, for me, isn’t just about curriculum—it’s about connection, compassion, and helping every student recognize their value. That’s what my mom and my teacher did for me, and that’s the legacy I hope to carry into my own classroom.

My passion for supporting early childhood development comes from personal experience. In elementary school, I was placed in what were considered the “lower classes” and enrolled in basic skills programs. I struggled to keep up with reading and writing, and it often felt like I was falling behind everyone else. At the time, no one knew I was dyslexic. I just knew that school felt confusing, frustrating, embarrassing, and lonely. Because my learning challenges weren’t properly understood early on, I internalized the idea that I wasn’t smart. I spent years doubting myself, not realizing that my brain just processed things differently. It wasn’t until fourth grade that I was diagnosed with dyslexia and finally received the support I needed. That diagnosis didn’t just give me access to the tools I needed, it gave me back my confidence. It also opened my eyes to how critical the early years are in shaping how children see themselves and what they believe they’re capable of. That experience made me decide to enter the field of early childhood development. I want to be the kind of educator who sees potential in every child, especially the ones who might be overlooked or misunderstood. I know what it feels like to sit in a classroom and feel like you’re already behind before you’ve even had a fair chance. I want to change that for future students by creating a learning environment where every child feels seen, supported, and capable. My goal is to become a teacher who uses inclusive, student-centered approaches that embrace different learning styles and needs. I want to implement tools like multisensory instruction, emotional check-ins, and differentiated learning strategies that make sure no child slips through the cracks. I also hope to advocate for early screenings and stronger communication between teachers and families, especially when children show signs of learning differences. But most importantly, I want to help young children build confidence from the very beginning. I want to teach them that struggling with something doesn’t mean you’re not smart—it means you’re learning. If I can help even one child feel capable and valued during their early school years, I’ll know I’m doing something that matters. Early childhood education has the power to change a child’s life, and I know because it changed mine. Through empathy, patience, and advocacy, I want to make sure that every child I work with feels empowered to learn in their own way. This isn’t just a career path for me, it’s personal mission to help children feel seen, supported, and celebrated from the very start.

Sophomore year of high school I had a teacher who didn’t care about my 504 plan. According to my 504 plan I was allowed extra time on assignments, but she didn’t care. She said, “I don’t care, my classroom is fast paced” and proceeded to practically ripped the assignment out of my hand. The next day, I transferred out of her classroom along with about half of the other students. She wasn’t a good teacher. She didn’t care for her students or try to accommodate to their needs. She didn’t try to help the students who were falling behind in class. She insisted on having everything exactly the way she wanted. She wasn’t capable of adapting the lesson plans she had originally created for that day or week. When I transferred into the new class, the teacher sat down with me and went over my 504 plan. He took the time to understand my needs and make sure I felt comfortable in his classroom. Unlike my previous teacher, you could tell he cared for his students. You could even tell he enjoyed his job. He didn’t see his students as a group of teenagers he had to manage for the next forty minutes, instead, he saw us as individuals with unique needs and tons of potential. Skills like empathy, patience, flexibility are what made him an effective and inspiring teacher. That experience made me realize, if I could change anything in education, it would be how teachers are trained to support students with different learning needs. Too often, students with accommodations, like a 504 plan, are overlooked or treated unfairly. Teachers should be equipped not only with content knowledge, but also with the skills and empathy to understand the diverse needs of their students. This includes being trained on how to recognize learning differences, how to implement accommodations effectively, and build a supportive classroom environment where all students feel respected and empowered to succeed. As someone studying Early Childhood Education, I want to be the kind of teacher who recognizes and celebrates the differences in each student. 8 want to create an environment where every student feels safe and accepted without fear of judgement. I want to inspire my students to reach their full potential. I want them to know that I care about them, not just as students, but as induvial with their own unique strengths and challenges. I want to empower my students to believe in themselves and to leave the classroom with confidence, unlike the English teacher I had my sophomore year of high school, who failed to provide support or encouragement that I needed. No student should ever feel the way I did, dismissed, embarrassed, and unsupported, just because they learn differently. By becoming an educator who listens, adapts, and advocates, I hope to be a part of changing the system from within. I want to ensure that every child receives not only a quality education but also the compassion and support they deserve. In doing so, I believe I can help shape not just better students, but more confident, resilient individuals who carry those lessons far beyond the classroom.