The Teachers Who Stayed with Us: Teacher Appreciations

For Teacher Appreciation Week, AFT’s Educational Issues staff shared some reflections on a teacher who made a lasting impact on their lives.

The responses were thoughtful, vivid and deeply personal—stories of educators who inspired confidence, sparked curiosity, challenged assumptions and helped shape who we are today. And we wanted to share those remembrances with you.

These are the teachers who stayed with us: in the books we still return to, the paths we chose and the ways we show up in the world.

Natalie Dean and Mrs. Drummond

Mrs. Drummond, my third-grade teacher, continues to be not only my favorite teacher, but one of the most influential figures to shape who I am as a lifelong learner. She was a role model who shaped who I am today. One of only two Black educators at my school, she carried herself with grace and quiet authority, and had a remarkable gift for making every student feel seen and valued. She held us to high standards while building our confidence, even addressing us as “"Master” and “Miss” to remind us of our own potential. She taught me that true success means being of service to others. 

Aayushi Doshi and Mrs. Laurito

Mrs. Laurito was my seventh-grade ELA teacher, and she was my original inspiration to pursue a career in education. The way she taught books was so engaging, and she was invested in making sure we succeeded and continued to learn. I wanted to model my teaching philosophy after her class. .....................................................................................................................................................................................

Sarah Elwell and Ms. Iona Brown and Ms. Joann Malone

I had the honor of taking Ms. Brown for algebra and geometry at Paul Junior High School in Washington, D.C. Ms. Brown was a legend among my peers, for not only her high expectations and strict protocols, but also her absolute excellence in knowing how to reach and teach all students. She moved through the domain of her classroom regally, with poise and intention. Ms. Brown made math come alive for me, from multidisciplinary lessons that connected the works of Escher and architectural patterns to math, to service connections that included participating in a math-a-thon that benefited St. Jude Children’s Hospital. She nurtured a growth mindset and came early to help students in the morning to achieve at the highest levels. She expected the best from all her students and embraced the power of not mastering a mathematical concept…YET. I spoke at her memorial service at my JHS, and when I looked around and saw all the people she touched and inspired, I remained even more determined to go into education. She left us far too soon, but her indelible imprint will continue to impact generations to come through the students she believed in, taught and mentored.

Ms. Joann Malone was a rebel educator with a cause. I remember our first day in her U.S. history class at Wilson High School. She shared with us that since the textbook only devoted roughly one page to Native Americans, she was not going to begin a class on the history of this nation with the textbook that so plainly erased the original peoples of this land, instead having us do research projects on various Indigenous tribes—I remember how much we learned from our research and that of our peers about the powerful contributions and diverse cultures of Native peoples. Next, she said, we need to find out about ourselves and our families to center our own ancestral journeys in the context of American history. She took us to the National Archives, and we looked at census data/archival documents, created as much of a family tree as we could and interviewed family members in order to complete a genealogy project that had a deep and profound impact on me because we were able to recognize historical patterns of systemic racism that brought about barriers or complexities in our genealogies and access to records. Thus, she ensured that when we started the standardized curriculum in the textbook we were able to see ourselves and internalize connections with the materials in ways that mattered, while engaging in rich dialogue and discussion that did not shy away from controversial topics. She emboldened me then, and even more now, to stand for what is right and just, and speak up to center voices and experiences that continue to be marginalized in all too many curricula and assessments.

Heidi Goger and Sister Vincentius

Sister Vincentius was my favorite elementary school teacher. We shared the same birthday and a deep love of reading. She taught a small group of students in the school library, guiding us through independent writing projects and student-driven reading selections, with an emphasis on Newbery and Caldecott Award winners.

We also explored the works of poets, including a school favorite, Robert Frost. Sister Vincentius often spoke of Frost’s inaugural poem, “The Gift Outright,” and his remarkable ability to recite it from memory when the sun’s glare prevented him from reading the original poem, “Dedication,” written specifically for the occasion. It was a standard she encouraged us to emulate in every oratory assignment.

The relationship I developed with Sister Vincentius extended well beyond elementary school. She attended my high school graduation, and we remained in correspondence throughout my adult life.

Megan Ortmeyer and Mrs. Bahner

Mrs. Bahner was my high school theater teacher and forensics speech team coach, and she created a space where I—and so many other students—felt free to truly be ourselves. In the settings she led, the quirky, animated parts of my personality weren’t something to hide; they were something to embrace. She had this way of helping you see that being yourself wasn’t just OK—it was actually something pretty incredible. She was equal parts encouraging and empowering, and, honestly, just a bit of a badass. Mrs. Bahner saw things in her students that others sometimes missed, and she didn’t let you walk away from that potential. She pushed us to own who we were and to recognize what we were capable of, and that has stayed with me long after high school.

Chelsea Prax and Ms. Corey Chirhart

In eighth grade, my English teacher, Ms. Corey Chirhart (now Tao), recommended that I read Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye. I am forever grateful for that introduction to America’s foremost literary genius. Morrison has often been, for me, a writer to reveal me to myself: a woman who gave me words for things I hadn’t realized I needed to say. I have since read (and reread) all of Morrison’s work—and she continues to be a gift.

Marla Ucelli-Kashyap and Sr. Mary Elizabeth

Sister Elizabeth was our high school librarian and the coordinator of various clubs related to reading, current events and public speaking. And she had the nun’s gift of not even entertaining “no” for an answer. That resulted in my being roped into things that made me uncomfortable, like forensics club, and things that made me even more uncomfortable, like being on a public radio program with authors of teen and young adult books. Not saying anything on the air, when you had to ride the ferry back from Manhattan to Staten Island with Sister Elizabeth, was not an option. Little did I know how much these “forced opportunities” would help me to habitually shape my thoughts, respect my own opinions and find my voice to articulate them beyond my friends and immediate family. Sr. Elizabeth also knew my older sisters and was a fan of my mom’s cooking—making occasional visits to our home beyond her retirement. I always tried to be home from college when she did!

Susan Youssofi and Mrs. Rosenbaum

I loved my fifth-grade teacher, Mrs. Rosenbaum. I still remember her in the 1980s—polyester pants, big glasses, a perfectly set blonde bob held in place with plenty of hairspray, and rings on every finger that softly clicked as she rolled a pen between her hands during reading group. 

She helped me discover a love of reading and art, and, even more, a sense of confidence in myself. She also was the first teacher I truly connected with—shaping my expectation that I’d go on to meet several other teachers and professors who I’d see not only as teachers, but also as mentors and friends.