The teacher that helped influence me to become a teacher was a man named Mr. Buckley at Polk Elementary in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. You see, as a child in the fifth grade, we had just moved into our own one-bedroom apartment in January 1983. We were homeless for six months in a small town called Guthrie. Oklahoma. My mom made a very bad decision that costed us a home in Fort Worth, Texas and six months of sleeping outside in the cold and dampness of a fall. So, when we were able to get into a one-bedroom apartment… We felt like we were royalty! We could take a warm bath, eat warm food (as long as the food stamps would last), and sleep on a warm bed. Mr. Buckley was just an average man in height. He always wore cardigan sweaters, he was salt and pepper gray, he wore glasses, and a heavy Irish accent to boot! When he greeted the kids in our class, we felt at home. We felt like we were wanted. We felt like we could actually be his sons and daughters! You see, many of us were from the projects. We had luggage. Not the type that you use to go traveling, but issues from home that we carried like hundred-pound weight around our necks. The majority of us did not have a dad at home. Our moms were dysfunctional in one way or another. We all were on free lunch program. We used food stamps at home in order to buy food. Some of us were abused… emotionally, physically, and the worse type as well. Mr. Buckley taught we can enjoy reading in order to escape from the realty of life! He would read to us novels like “Old Yellow,” “Where The Red Fern Grows” to name a few books. He would tell us stories of the Leland Hills in Ireland. He would take us away into a realm wizards and trolls and knights that spoke with a heavy Irish accent. In our minds, we were there in Ireland, running around playing “Tag” or “Kickball” in the meadows of the Leland Hills. So I lay awake at night, listening to my mother’s dysfunction in the bedroom next door, I couldn’t help to think… “Can I break free from this life style. Can I finally say… ‘Goodbye’ to my mommy and this dysfunction?” Yes! I would be running care free in Ireland with my father, Mr. Buckley because he cared for us, Mr. Buckley cared for me and my education as a fifth grader. As the school year ended in that May of 1983, we all cried! We did not want to leave Mr. Buckley! He was our dad or father who loved us and cared for us! We cannot leave without our daddy! Mr. Buckley was our daddy! As a man now, I think back to those times. I always crack a smile and think about my daddy from fifth grade, Mr. Buckley. I wonder how many lives he touched and that have became a teacher like him? I wonder how many of my brothers and sisters made it and broke out of that dysfunctional life style or who didn’t make it. As a teacher, I try to match one tenth of the joy in learning that Mr. Buckley taught me. I can never be like Mr. Buckley, but I try my hardest to make learning for my babies.