"You can make it," my father said as he tossed a spreadsheet of her $19/hr income down on the table, after telling Mom he wanted a divorce. He didn't just abandon the marriage; he left behind the mortgage, household, emotional, and physical duties. My mom, who was once carrying half the load, was now bearing it all. Maybe to the average person, that sentence might've seemed like an encouragement, but to my mom, it felt like a slap in the face. My mother has been a single mom twice. My sister and I are fifteen years apart with different fathers. Through both times being separated, my mother never brought a single man who wasn't our father into the home. It was always about her children, often neglecting herself. She made sure we had the opportunity to participate in any extracurricular activities, school field trips, attend all school dances, be there for every sports event, present at all theatre performances, and show up to every award ceremony, working graveyard shifts to ensure her attendance was possible. Being there for us both physically and financially was her top priority. Through her first separation, my mom purchased her first house to ensure her kids had security in a home. All from cleaning homes and caregiving. She applied pressure to both my sister and I, stressing to us that if she had furthered her education past high school, even as a single mom, she would not be struggling to this extent. At the time, we had found it overbearing, almost crushing. Although my mother tried her best, there was only so much she could do, and I knew those feelings taunted her. Having to hear about how my best friend's father was able to purchase her a new car at 16 years old, or how all my friends' parents could pay their children's way through college, or them taking family trips. She often would apologize that she couldn't afford to do any of those things for us. It always mattered far more to her than it did to me. Coming from a single-parent household that struggled financially, it pushed me to begin working at a young age. The moment I entered the workforce, I have had a strong and resilient work ethic. I learned very quickly that if I wanted something, both opportunity and financially based, I was not going to get it handed to me. As soon as I graduated high school, I was offered a department manager position at my job, I was able to purchase my first brand-new car at 18 years old, and then move out on my own by the time I was twenty, all while attending school full-time. I quickly learned strong emotional and physical independence. My mother taught me that life keeps on going, and no matter the circumstances, there's always a reason to be present, but especially present for myself. I had never appreciated my mother's efforts growing up because she never made me question whether or not she would be present. Her ability to be there and provide was consistent and never wavered, which led me to never doubt or have financial insecurity as an adolescent. Yes, I was aware of financial restrictions, but my mom always made sure the lights were on, our mouths were fed, and we got to participate in whatever passion we had. As I continue to mature, I realize that even though I have had to push through some trying situations, my mother is the backbone for a lot of my independence. It wasn't always easy, but it's been rewarding.

Walking into my fifth-grade classroom with my zebra print backpack, I remember being riddled with anxiety for the first day of class, with no expectations but afraid of what was expected of me. Being the older students of elementary school sounded a lot more daunting at the time. I walked into the classroom with the numbers "509" clearly displayed by the entrance with my Hannah Montana singing lunch box, and neon purple zebra print backpack. I quickly found my seat, which had the name "Sarah" in cursive displayed on a yellow nametag. Immediately, the lady with wild silver hair and a giant grin caught my attention, "My name is Mrs. Healy, welcome to fifth grade!" As a child, I had always had an excitement for learning, but it was due to my naturally inquiring attitude, not necessarily encouraged by an individual. My mother would have me on a repetitive schedule, including me counting to 100 at four years old, enforcing a daily routine of reading each night at six, and multiplication flashcards by the time I was in second grade. If any part of me hesitated with any content, I would immediately have to start from the beginning, "...56..66..." "No, start over." She ensured, she was not going to be the parent who did not invest in her child's education. My mom insisted on having weekly check-ins with teachers about my behavior and comprehension. I was a social butterfly and tended to talk a lot during class, which at times became a problem for teachers, but never affected my academic ability in the classroom. At some point in school, I became self-conscious and shy. My mother blames my third-grade teacher, saying I was never the same after that year. She claims I came home crying one day after school because the teacher screamed at me in the classroom, all for losing a Mother's Day craft. She screamed at everyone periodically. My mom went marching down to the classroom and gave that teacher a piece of her mind. Normally, I would say parents going against a teacher's agenda, recommendations, concerns, etc., is one of the primary concerns why a student may not be flourishing. But my mother not only stood up for me, but the entire class that day. She crushed my confidence in asking for help and in participating in classroom discussions. Despite my anxiety when entering fifth grade, Mrs. Healy had to have been the most influential individual to have entered my academic career. Her passion for teaching impacted the lives of every one of her students. She took the time to understand, know, and invest in every individual student. Not just the high-achieving ones, or the ones who were struggling, but every single one of us. Mrs. Healy was so passionate that the school granted her a second classroom filled with science models regarding different fields. Science nights were her specialty, hosting them for parents and their children to come in and conduct mini science experiments. She never limited her passion for teaching to just her assigned students, but poured herself out to the entire school into each child. The day of my high school graduation, Mrs. Healy reached out to me and asked to see me prior to my ceremony. She arrived at my childhood home and embraced me with a warm hug and congratulations, asking me what I am pursuing as a career. I had told her that I was going to school to become a teacher. I will never forget her looking into my eyes, tearing up and telling me, "You were one of those students who could choose and achieve any career you desired. The fact that you're choosing a career so overlooked... I feel so honored to have had you in my classroom." Mrs. Healy continues to support and mentor me to this day. I know I am not the only individual. Her impact did not just stay within classroom 509, but continues to bless me and others through her passion for children, and care in truly shaping the world into a better place through investment of her time in education. I strive to become a future educator just like Mrs. Healy.