The room spun as I attempted to take in the sight before me. A thick packet sprawled across my cold desk with the words "Grammar Test" proclaiming its existence. I closed my eyes to wish it away. Another test. Another evidence of failure. Such was my life as an English-language learner. Math. Science. Social Studies. English. It didn't matter. I wasn't good at any of it.
I opened my eyes only to find that dreaded test still on my desk. My throat tightened.
I cared about doing well. I cared about not letting my teacher down - not letting myself down. My choking fears and conditioned anxiety, however, were quickly replaced by overwhelming confusion when I heard the softly spoken words of encouragement: "You can do this."
Who me? The girl who would rather act up in class and live in the principal's office than to face the self-deprecating truth that school just wasn't for me - English just wasn't for me. I would never be good enough.
Yet her words were real. To her. And little did I know that they would plant themselves in my mind, growing like fire, and replacing any previous truths I had concerning my worth.
I was fourteen years old when I first heard and understood those words, "You can do this." I was fourteen years old when my path to hope and success was etched before me. I COULD do it. And so I did.
Many times.
After school. Before school. During that 8th grade English class. During high school and college years. I was on a mission to learn more and more about the English language. How to read it, how to write it, how to speak it. Twenty years later, English is still my passion. Its history, its evolution, its changing anatomy. A living organism that has made itself a home in my heart.
And it started with those four words: "You can do this."
That was my first academic English class I ever took. It was the first time I experienced a true desire to learn. But most importantly, it was the first time I experienced a teacher's power of influence. My English teacher believed in my potential, continually exposing my unveiled intelligence to the world. However unpolished. However obstinate. However inconsistent it was. She believed I was smart. She believed I could do it, and so I do.
We never know how our influence as educators is shaping the lives of our students. We may never realize how the hope we offer inspires better stories. And we won't always see the lighthouse our words paint on someone else's canvas. We just need to remember that it matters. Education matters. We matter.
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