When I sat down to count each and every schoolteacher I’ve had from kindergarten through my sophomore year of college, I counted 68 different teachers who have had me in their classrooms.

Since I was little, school was sort of predetermined to be my thing. I read at an extremely young age and was considered gifted by the time I entered fourth grade. Granted, I was only considered gifted in language arts and social studies, but my lack of skill in science and mathematics was supplemented by the shiny silver ribbons I earned by coming in as runner-up in the spelling bee year after year.

My report cards usually had comments saying, “Pleasure to have in class, talks too much,” or “does well in leadership positions.” My parents set goals for me that made me strive for success, and I always got an adrenaline rush when I saw high grades on my projects and assignments.

My passion for learning carried on through middle school and high school, where I repeated my pattern of excelling in English and history. Even though I did fairly well in all of my classes and always liked my teachers, it was not until eighth grade did I have a teacher truly make an impact on my education, and my life, and did I realize what set apart a good teacher from a great teacher. I realized that if the teacher truly loved what they were teaching with every fiber of their being, it would reciprocate to the students.

This teacher loved everything about United States history. She passionately talked about the struggles of colonization as if she was a settler in the 1600s, wore “Team Jefferson” memorabilia and even focused on current events that many of us, as 13 year-olds, had never been exposed to, such as the struggles of legalizing same-sex marriage and equal pay in the workplace.

And, almost 10 years later, I still remember all of this, because she let her love for what she did show. I can confidently say that of the 68 teachers I could count, maybe five or six truly impacted my education.

So, I am now approaching my junior year in college, and will undoubtedly have several more teachers who will lecture the curriculum all semester and send me off into the world, with hopes that I retained 30 percent of what they taught me. But, I sincerely hope that I will have a few more teachers that will get into heated debates with students about why Emily Brontë is the superior Brontë sister, or will take time out of class each week to relate an erratic story of their upbringing in North Carolina to the public relations field.

Because, these are the teachers that taught me more than just what the school board expected them to. These are the teachers I still think about when I reflect on my 16 years of education. These are the teachers who inspired me to minor in education.

So, I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for taking the thing you love, and making me love it, too. Thank you for understanding my tendency to procrastinate every assignment, and working with my out of the box way of thinking. Thank you for giving me constructive criticism, and for always balancing the criticism with the compliments. Thank you for introducing me to new ways of thinking, and for challenging my mind. Thank you for encouraging me to question everything, and for never letting me just scratch the surface. It is because of you that I am where I am today. And, it is because of you that I will be where I am tomorrow and every day after.