I never thought that my World Studies class could change my world. New school, new town, new state, same old fears. Being a freshman is hard, but a freshman in a unfamiliar place – that I was completely unprepared for. Yet at the end of freshman year, immediately after I had decided that high school was my personal hell, I met a teacher who would change my perspective. His small act of kindness is still shaping who I am today.

First off, history is my all-time favorite subject. I cannot get enough of it – the civilizations, religions, folklore, wars, all of it. I love learning about how people evolved through culture and how habits changed over the years. I mean, don’t you wonder how humankind got to where we are today? Anyway, I arrived at class on the first day of the second semester, fourth period. I was already tired and ready to go home.

We sat down, and through the door came Mr. Anderson, a smile on his face. I thought to myself, This guy must be crazy to be looking this happy in fourth period. It wasn’t even the normal type of smile that teachers give; it was a genuine look of excitement, like he’d rather be nowhere else.

That was how Mr. Anderson arrived for class every day: always smiling and excited to teach. His activities brought the class together, even in a debate. He’d climb on desks and wear a crown, pretending to be King Louis XVI, or challenge groups to fight over land in his demonstrations. His abundant energy made the end of the day my favorite. During his lectures his arms would flail and he’d use funny voices. He always read his PowerPoints with such energy and wild demonstrations. It was like being taught by an actor. The class couldn’t help but laugh, and in turn, we usually remembered the information. There was no judgment, no stupid question, just help and a constant smile. I have never learned more from a teacher.

Throughout the semester, I noticed that Mr. Anderson worked with students at their own pace. Those who were slower were given help; those who were faster were given extra work and practice. I was usually ahead, so he found interesting things for me to do, never busywork. Articles, online games, quizzes – I was never bored.

At the end of the year, I began to have severe problems at home, and the smile that I usually brought to class began to fade. Even Mr. Anderson’s loudest lectures couldn’t lift my spirits. One day he put a note on my desk. Not making a scene, he just stuck it there and walked away. It read, “If you need anything – to talk to someone, go to the nurse or counselor, or just be alone – let me know.”

I was shocked. No teacher had ever paid enough attention to me to realize anything was wrong. My home problems had leaked into school, and it seemed everywhere I went, trouble was looming. Finally Mr. Anderson pulled me out into the hall. He patted the floor and told me to sit and talk to him. I told him what was going on, not because I had no one to tell, but because I knew he was willing to listen. I told him what had been causing my unusual moods, and he was astonished. For the first time I saw the smile on his face disappear. “I never would have known,” he said.

He went on to give me healthy suggestions of ways to help myself out with my problems. He suggested church camps, clubs, various coping skills, and finding someone to talk to.

Since then my life has improved. My circumstances have not changed, but my outlook has. I remind myself to do small acts of kindness like Mr. Anderson did for me – to go out of my way to see if friends are okay.

Freshman year ended better than I thought it would. The smile reappeared on my face. This attitude continued through the summer and into sophomore year. I still see Mr. Anderson in the hallways and occasionally say hi. I know he is keeping up the energy and enthusiasm for teaching that I was lucky enough to experience.

Thank you, Mr. Anderson.