Kesha Remembers Mrs. Monty

School was my haven as a kid, and I especially loved Mrs. Monty’s fourth grade class. In her classroom, I was greeted with a hug every morning and sent off with a hug every afternoon. Hugs were not exchanged in my home. Unlike Mrs. Monty’s class, my life at home was unpredictable and scary. There was mostly silence, punctuated by yelling and fights.

Mrs. Monty’s class was full of laughter, stories, and most importantly, poetry. In this nurturing space, my love of words and writing grew. As the end of the school year came near, most kids were getting more excited. I was getting more anxious, and I was dreading the summer months at home. Mrs. Monty must have known this because she handed me a package on the last day of school. Inside was a book of poetry, a spiral bound journal, and a note that said she couldn’t wait to read what I had written when we saw each other again in September.

I poured over that poetry book and journal all summer long. I carried them with me down by the river and up in tree branches. I looked at them before I went to sleep. They were little reminders of the joy of learning, the happy routine of school, and the love of my teacher. I am forever grateful to Mrs. Monty for sustaining me through those difficult months at home and giving me hope.

I hope Kesha’s story helped you see how much your work matters.

Julie

Want a big collection of inspirational teacher stories at your fingertips? Grab your copy of the Lessons That Last book. Want to dive more deeply into the stories? Check out the Lessons That Last Podcast.