Page 26 - Demo

Sara Beeman
Paper Gardener
Every student wants to believe that they are as special to their favorite teacher as
that teacher is for them. I was, and still am, no exception. My fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. J., changed the trajectory of my life and I will never be able to thank her properly for that. She cared for me in a way that no other teacher had cared before. She planted seeds of ink inside my mind and cultivated beautiful paper flowers, each one tended to by her careful hands. Now, as a writing student, I am left to tend my own paper garden, but I can still feel the lingering presence of her gardener’s hands in the clay soil of my mind, coaxing words out of the inhospitable landscape.
Mrs. J. taught English. English was already my favorite subject, but she transformed that love into a passion. She was one of the only teachers I ever had that made learning fun for me and allowed my creativity to come to life in her class. She crafted her assignments carefully and gave options for every type of student, so everyone had a chance to bloom. What I never noticed as a child was that she cared so deeply about her students, more than my little brain could have comprehended at the time. She gave constant encouragement and guidance, and her smile never faltered. Even when students were resistant to her, instead of giving up on them, she tried even harder to help them succeed. She read every one of my stories, every paper peony plucked from my mind, even those that were not assignments. She read them with extreme care and was the first person I ever received constructive criticism from.