I got together with my teacher in the first class who helped me find my voice
When we get older, we often forget the teachers from our early childhood who have shaped us quietly and our development long before we recognized them. They may bring us to mind from time to time, but if we are lucky, those who have really influenced our development and growth remain again – either throughout the trip or in my case almost 30 years later.
I was a shy child and it was unknown to open up to everyone outside of my immediate family. I still remember my first day of school. My mother and father stormed me out of the car when I stepped and screamed and she asked not to go to this place. Some would say I was spoiled; I say I was deeply loved at home. I just had to feel safe, safe and a feeling of consolation that someone had my back when I entered the aisles of what I regarded as an unusual area.
All of this changed in first class thanks to Miss Kish (as we knew her before she married and Ms. Spurio became). She saw me. She helped me bloom. Their influence was so profound that even in my thirties I told someone who will listen to how much they contributed to cultivating the person I would be early. Excellence was her standard, and if they started not to close their best themselves, she led her back gently and lovingly.
I will never forget the quiet transformation. From the child who cried every day during school levy, I was the one who begged that was discontinued early. I was proud to be her morning assistant. I felt seen and was enthusiastic about the title. At that time I started to bloom fully and to completely arise from my shyness shell at school. I have honored myself socially and academically under Miss Kishs. I won the spelling bee, was a top reader in my class and leaned into my creativity by writing fictional stories.
Anyone who has ever been deeply influenced by a great teacher knows – their influence does not end with the school year.
I was also fully committed when it came to participating the classes and practiced my skills in public speaking. All of these tools would later help me in life to contribute both in social and professional environments and in professional environments and to build my career, to unknowingly improve my skills and to design my future as a journalist both behind the keyboard and in front of the camera. At the end of the school year, this shy little girl came in full bloom.
According to the website, we are teachers: “79% of the students say that a teacher encouraged them to follow their dreams.” I am one of them. I wore this trust with myself for years and never expected our paths to cross almost three decades later. But like everyone who is ever deeply affected by a great teacher, their influence does not end with the school year. It stays with you. And in my case it came back.
Fast lead, and I received an unexpected but pleasant surprise -e email from Mrs. Spurio. Every emotion came in. I read her message again several times and sat with it for a few weeks before I finally hit the answer.
It was not that I didn’t want to connect again. It was actually the opposite. I had thought of her for years and even tried to research a little to find her, but I was always neglected. Ironically, about two years earlier, during a conversation with ABC News 20/20 Co-Anchor and the bestselling author Deborah Roberts, the bestselling author of the New York Times, I mentioned how determined I was to find my first class teacher. When I read her book, Lessons Learned and Sheished: The teacher who changed my life, I came across the educators who inspired her. At that moment I planted a seed and her stories made me think: “What would I say about Miss Kish if I ever had the chance?”
Well, I had this chance – and it was all the little girl needed in me. We laughed, we hugged ourselves, we shared stories and we made ourselves well for lost time. When I get older, I notice how important it is to make room for what is really important: to be present, even if life tries to pull you up and around a million directions. The reality is that there will always be something for us, our calendars will always be full and it will always wait on our to-do lists. But if someone reappears in their life, they have to take the opportunity and create the moment. And that’s exactly what I did.
If we are lucky, those who really influenced our development and growth remain with us – either during the entire trip or in my case almost 30 years later.
Let me tell you my heart was full of joy. I was proud that I was able to do it and were an honor to have done this. After some back and forth, our schedules were in the mood. I hopped back on a flight to Ohio, where we met for dinner. And in true Mrs. Spurio fashion she was not empty-handed. She brought photo albums with class pictures, a birthday card that I had made at the age of six – still in perfect condition – and a story that I had illustrated in a plastic binder that looked like yesterday that it could have been created almost decades ago.
At that time she was poured into me and did it again at my old age. Now it’s my turn to pour them into them.
Ms. Spurio invested in my future without fanfare, without awards and definitely without the financial compensation teachers who earn so often. She deserves all the flowers – not just from me, but from every child whose life she touched. And I know that I am not alone in these feelings. I spoke to a few friends from childhood who were also lucky enough to be in their class, and we all shared the same feeling: she made learning and fun. She enjoyed it.
When I see someone and feel special, it’s my turn now. If you read this, thank you Mrs. Spurio, thanks from the little six -year -old and now adult. Thank you for the lessons and the encouragement to treat your students with such friendliness and care. Thank you for seeing a quiet little girl and helping her find her voice. And in the end, thank you for showing me that you showed it up before I knew it -that faith is one of the greatest gifts that you can give. You once helped me bloom, and somehow 30 years later you did it again.
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