I think it's safe to say I had an upbringing full of instability: my family and I lived in a motel after being evicted when I was 7, my parents had an unstable relationship that I saw growing up, and I was dealing with mental health since I was 11. These challenges are what have already established my foundation for becoming a teacher: to provide a safe and stable environment for children to grow. Before I came to this realization, I never grew up imagining I would want to be a teacher. I thought I would work with animals or continue my passion for music, but my perspective changed going into my junior year of high school. There was a technical school about 30 minutes outside of my city that the schools in my county could go to so, as the world shut down due to COVID-19, I decided it would be a good chance to try something new my junior year so I went to the technical school for teacher education—virtually of course. The first year went smoothly as it focused on getting our clearances, creating lesson plans, 30-minute google meets, and understanding children as a whole like their cognitive, fine motor, and gross motor development as well as other terminologies. That was the year when I was genuinely interested in working with children and possibly as a teacher, but going into my second year of teacher education was an entirely different story. The way the lab worked was that the first years had a level one teacher and the second years and higher had a teacher that covered the level two, three, and fours. This was the year I faced extreme challenges with my peers, friends, and the teacher herself. I was in my senior year of high school when I was a level two at the technical school. This year would be different from last year because, not only would I be introduced to other students that were in levels three and four, but I would be attending in person. Toward the end of my level one school year, my home school had the option to go hybrid which I did so I could get a feel of the technical school before my senior year. When I went, it was inviting, quiet, and—something I always seemed to look for—stable. There was a routine and not overwhelming. This is what I expected when I went to my second year, but, before I even walked into the room, the first question my teacher asked was "Are you supposed to be here?" I was shocked and embarrassed, after all, it was the first day of school. During my whole year, it felt like she was asking me that question "Are you supposed to be here?" Why are you here? You shouldn't be here. My class was mostly of girls and just one boy; a majority of white students and four students of color and one being white-passing. My time in that class made me really aware of my skin color. I felt so excluded, unaccepted, and angry. The friends I made there were quiet, openly a part of the LGBTQ+, and awkward. They seemed to desire acceptance and assimilated into how our teacher wanted us to be, but I had too much anger to assimilate or accept their exclusion. Every day I went in contemplating if I even belonged there and if I even wanted to be a teacher because it was easier than going back every day feeling like I couldn't breathe. I was suffocated in a space that felt like everyone hated me or was annoyed by my every action because I didn't seem to please them in a way that they wanted me to. My time there affected my mental health—and even does so to this day, but my time there also made me more passionate to teach children because there aren't a lot of teachers of color unless the school is a low-income or not a predominantly white institution. I want to change that narrative so other children of color can see themselves in careers like teaching.