'Tis the season for giving thanks, and trust me, there is a lot to be thankful for. I am thankful for a roof over my head, and a family that would do anything for me. That I am blessed with a truly amazing brother and a best friend as my sister. I am thankful that I can afford college, and what everyone has done for me in my 18 years on this planet. Yet, there is one group of people that I feel that we need to thank more.

I remember, when I was in the first grade and my teacher, Mrs. Klingner, used to tell stories of her boarding school, and there were underground tunnels and all kind of fantastical ideas. She taught me how to imagine. I would go home and play dress up and run around pretending I was a witch or a princess. I was quiet and just a kid in the background, yet she would take me to another world, take me to this blissful place that only lived in the mind that was willing to embrace it. Thank you Mrs. Klingner.

In third grade, Miss B taught me to never be the girl who cried wolf. I used to pretend to have a stomach ache so I could go home and cuddle my mom and watch movies with her. She talked to me, and for that I am grateful. She taught me responsibility and dignity, and for that I give thanks.

It was sixth grade, and I was just starting to grow out of my shell. I wasn't as quiet anymore, and I lost a lot of weight. I started to make more friends, and found that literature was my new favorite thing. My geography teacher Mr. Stewart, is a teacher I will never forget. One day, I was upset in his class. It was low key, yet he could still tell. So after class, he asked what was wrong. I started bawling, and told him that my friend tried harming herself. He hugged me, and though I don't remember his words, I remember how they made me feel: important, and heard, and comforted. Our class would give him endless trouble, yet he always smiled and kept his cool. He taught me patience, and to always help those I see struggling.

My high school choir director, Ken Foley, taught me countless lessons. He was the kindest man I have ever met, and he has touched the lives of every student he ever had. He knows all of our names, and all of our back stories. He doesn't ask questions, and always listens. When I heard devastating news at school and broke down, I went to him. He would let me sit in his class and listen to the other choirs sing. He hugged me and told me I was important, I was special, I was loved. He taught all of us that we truly mattered. And he truly thought we did. To him, each and every one of us meant something special to him, and that is not something you find every day. So thank you Mr. Foley, I aspire to be half the person you are.

My sophomore and junior year English teachers changed my outlook on life. Once, they told me that I think differently—that I see things in a different light than most people. That just because my interpretations aren't the same as my peers, doesn't mean that I'm wrong. In fact, they told me the opposite. She told me that I was special, that I was gifted. They taught me to speak my opinions loudly, and not be afraid to speak up in class. They taught me that my voice was beautiful and that I must understand that all of my peers are also beautiful. They taught me the beauty in being yourself, and I am forever grateful to them. Thank you Mrs. Fry and Mrs. Andersen.

These teachers are just a few of the reasons I am who I am. I feel like that deserves a special thanks. Teachers are important, far more important than we give them credit for. Teachers shape children's outlooks and their self worth. I remember all of my teachers, and I am thankful for each and every one of them. I’m not sure if they remember me or not, and it doesn't matter if they do. Most of them probably don't even realize how they have touched my life, yet I do. I know, and that's all that matters. So thank you, thank you. You will always be apart of me, and I will forever take you with me. I am grateful beyond words for all you have done for me, knowingly or unknowingly.