Dear Dr. V.,

Out of pure respect, I still call you Dr. V., even four years after I graduated. And, quite honestly, I don’t think I would be able to call you your first name, just because you are forever and always going to be my favorite teacher.

You were and are one of my favorite men on this planet, simply because of how much you care. You are one in the handful of men who have stayed in my life, while many others have left. For that, and many other things, I will never stop supporting you.

You gave me a reason to keep believing in myself and gave me the courage and reignited my passion for teaching. I decided at eight years old that I wanted to be a teacher, but when high school came, I met some “friends” who made me hate myself; and they had the backing of teachers, no matter how hard I worked in their class. It gave me a bad taste in my mouth.

But then you came into my life.

I remember sophomore year, you couldn’t remember my name, and it made me feel like all I ever was going to be was a dot on the marching band field to you. And, while I know better now, that made the 15-year-old me hate herself even more.

I remember, then, concert band season came around, when I was still playing trumpet. During a playing test, you got really close to me, and just kept watching my mouth while I was playing. You told me I had incorrect embouchure for trumpet; little did we know that you would change my life from that little sentence.

Then came the summer before junior year, and I attempted suicide. I went to the hospital, and I got out just in time for leadership camp. You told me since I was going to miss mini-camp week that I should go to leadership camp. I walked into the band room, with my hospital bracelets still on, fresh out of the hospital after 10 days. You were the first outsider to talk to me. When I had to tell you I had to leave the next day during the day for outpatient, you looked at me strangely, but you didn’t ask questions.

That’s one thing I love about you: you never ask questions, you just know.

Throughout junior year, you continued to prove yourself to me. You understood and let me do what I needed to do. You kicked people out of the band room who didn’t belong; to this day, I don’t know if you realized just who you were kicking out, but it made a difference in my life.

Senior year came and left, and my time with you came to an end. But I never forgot you. Nor will I ever. I remember how you sounded when you announced where I was going to school. I remember everything.

I remember sending you an email when I didn’t make the Blue Band and how you were sad with me. But I also remember you responded when I sent you a paper I had to write about my favorite teacher... “...it was a pleasure teaching you these past three years!”

Well, Dr. V., you sure left your mark on my life. You were and are an amazing person, teacher, mentor, everything. Thank you for always being my rock in the band world and for always welcoming me with open arms. Mostly, thank you for never giving up on me.

Love,

Syd