When I was just a boy of eight

You showed me how I could be great

Despite my insecurity

You taught me how to live as me

I met you first in the second grade

When times were tough and I was afraid

I was behind and didn’t fit in

You were so kind and helped me to win

You saw my potential in art and writing

Your willowy hugs were so inviting

I found my place; felt safe expressing my heart

In your class my talent shined; I learned I was smart

I met you again in fifth grade, when I was ten

I was still going through a lot of trouble then

You reminded me that I could do anything I chose

So I decided to write stories, poetry and prose

Then the greatest gift you ever gave me

Probably the kindest thing that sent me free

You let me be the focus of the class’s attention

To share my stories, the products of my reinvention

Ever since that time I have learned to trust my muse

I often wish I could share with you all my good news

That I’m happy now — teaching, still writing every day

Wish you knew how those two years helped me make my way

Thank you, Mrs. Short, for all your support and caring

Ironically your name sounds brief or terse or sparing

But your long-term love and gentle lessons were so generous and far reaching

Your mentoring showed me my power — and guided me to both writing and teaching.