Mrs. Tweten

Mrs. Tweten,

This is going to be one of the hardest letters I have ever had to write, and honestly, I don't even know where to begin. It is impossible to put into words how much you meant to me, and every single student that had the privilege of being a student in your class, but, the world needs to know just how amazing you are so I will try my best. Please forgive all my grammatical mistakes, regardless of how many times you've told me I cannot start a sentence in the middle of a thought, I still do though I hear your voice yelling at me to fix it.
Your name was well known throughout the walls of Harbor ridge middle school, and every year I would eagerly read my class list in hopes that it was finally going to be my time to get to be part of your class. I got that honor in 8th grade and you did so much more than live up to your legacy.
You have this overwhelming presence about you, that commanded the room while simultaneously giving such a powerful feeling of peace. In your class there was no popular table, no problems at home, no one was greater or less than their peers. In your eyes, every single student was capable of reaching their highest dream, and you would settle for nothing less than our full potential on any and everything we did.
In your classroom, we were so much more than young students to whom you were assigned to teach science. We were young humans, the next generation of adults, whose unique personality was there for you to encourage and grow rather than to simply shape into some cookie cutter idea of who we were meant to be. Your outlandish personality was both entirely inappropriate for the classroom while being exactly what each and every one of us needed as developing humans. The lessons you taught me, are played word for word inside my head and I utilize that advice on a daily basis. A prime example being every parent's favorite piece of your advice that "it is better to seek forgiveness later, than permission now." You saw who we were and trusted us to make the right choice without running those decisions by anyone, long before we truly understood how important that trust was.
You had a motherly aura to you, that made me feel so safe inside your classroom. I wanted to do well because it felt so genuine when you responded with pride, and though I knew you were going to yell at me when I failed, I never doubted the underlying love and desire you had for me to do my best. It was never about the assignment to you, but how we could show ourselves through it.

I could recite word for word every joke, story and piece of advice you ever gave us. There was no shortage of laughter spilling into the hallways as your larger than life personality went off on rants completely unrelated from the work at hand. Just seeing you in the hallways would lift everyone's spirits, we were all your babies, weather we were personal students or not. You were going to parent, teach and guide us. When I was in grade school I heard a story about your quick thinking saving a classroom full of students during an earthquake. I genuinely don't know if this story is real, or a fabricated extension of how safe you made your class feel during that incredibly scary day. The story says that when the earthquake started you were grabbing students out of the halls and pulling them into your classroom to get them to safety, however once inside you knew your class was no longer safe and instructed all of the students outside to the field moments before the ceiling collapsed around the desks they were hiding under even though the rules said they were to say inside. Again I don't know, I wasn't there, but I do know that if I had been at HRMS that day, your class is the one I would have wanted to be in, being in your presence is were I would have felt the safest regardless of how damaged your room was after the fact. You were the momma bear, and with you around, every student was sure to be protected.

My time in your 8th-grade class was just the beginning, your love for every one of your students didn't end at middle school. You followed our journeys into adulthood, literally praying for each of us as we made our own way in this world. There were times our choices were met with your frustration because you saw potential in us we had not yet seen within ourselves. But oh my goodness, when you praised you praised with your whole heart.
I remember coming to your class at 19, telling you I had just joined the Navy. I was so scared, but you were so proud. I was nervous I wouldn't succeed, but you were already planning for our future email exchanges and telling me how you were going to share each adventure I took with your future students. You saw the life I was going to live and knew before I knew, that it was exactly what I needed. The hugs you gave me the day I left for boot camp held emotions I can still feel while writing this letter, and sitting here grieving your loss all I can think is how I would give anything for one more all-consuming hug from you.

Mrs. Tweten,
Thank you,
Thank you for believing in me.
Thank you for seeing the awkward, shy, quirky little girl that I was, and loving me as if I was already the woman you knew I would become.
Thank you for responding to my accomplishments with as much enthusiasm as you would your own child.
Thank you for loving me as I was, while pushing me to do better.

Thank you for being so, so much more than just my 8th-grade teacher.

Its hard to believe that the next time I go home I won't be stopping by your classroom.
and I am devastated that I didn't make it to your funeral, I am sure the room was packed with hundreds of students just like me, who lost one of the most influential people in their life. The entire community has suffered an insurmountable loss from your passing.

Please know that the world is such a better place because you were in it.
You will never be forgotten. Your voice will live on in my head forever, and your lessons are already well known by my children.

Thank you will never be enough, but I know you already know what I mean, even more so, than I do.