As a parent, I’ve had massive respect for teachers. Such a tough job and often under-valued. Certainly by students and too often, parents. Treated like babysitters. Outrageous expectations. Little respect.

And when I was the student, I didn’t understand what it took to be a teacher. I did my best to “be a good girl” but by 13, had a bit of attitude in response to the abuse at home. Stopped being “the good girl.” Did enough to get by.

You’ve made me wonder if any of those teachers cared. No one ever showed any interest. Maybe they cared but didn’t speak up. No idea. But it’s lovely to now think that perhaps they did. Childhood was so dark and lonely. I like the idea that maybe my teachers, or at least the handful of favourites down the years, might have been sending kind thoughts and wondering if I was okay.

Thank you for sharing your story. ❤️🙏🏻