The World's Greatest and Most Underappreciated Teacher by Sarah

The World's Greatest and Most Underappreciated Teacher by Sarah - July 2016 Scholarship Essay

When you find the word “teacher” in the Webster Dictionary, its definition is as follows: a person or thing that teaches something. Sounds pretty vague if you ask me. This year I will be a senior in high school and in the next year, I will be moving onto the next chapter of my life. It’s safe to say that this year is going to consist of a lot of reminiscing about the past years, including the mistakes I’ve made, the friends that stuck around and the lessons I’ve learned. After 12 years of school, I’ve had my fair share of teachers, however with our time being limited to a short 9 month school year, I have failed to establish a relationship with a teacher deep enough to where their words and advice follows me through the years.
However, after looking up the definition of the word “teacher,” it is clear to me that they are not limited to school educators, for example a coach teaches a sport, a boss teaches a job, and a parent teaches a way of life. My mother has taught me more than I could ever hope to learn in a classroom. Because in the end, I’m not going to remember the theorems of calculus, Spanish conjugations, or why World War I caused World War II. What I am going to remember, is the verse my mom hung on my wall after having been bullied in school, I will remember that being kind is more important than being right, and I will remember to always love myself.
I have learned more from my mother than I have from any school, because while teachers care about me passing a test, my mom cares about the way I see myself when I pass by a mirror. From the time I was born, I have had untamable, golden curls with a mind of their own. As a kid, no one cared how your hair looked, because the focus was on whatever game my friends and I had invented that day. However as middle school came around, my friends stopped inventing games. The skinned knees and bruised elbows came to an end, and the era of cell phones, makeup, and boys was beginning.
I remember the day I came home crying because the popular crowd had made a joke about my curly hair. The problem wasn’t the girls who had laughed, it was the boy. The first boy I had ever noticed and the first crush I ever had. He laughed along with the girls as I could see him eyeing the prettiest one. The one thing I noticed about her? Her hair was straight.
The next day was Saturday and I decided it was time for a change. So I pulled out my mom’s hair straightener, and put all my might into clamping the iron shut over my curls, willing them to fall flat. After hours of trying, there was still a faint hint of curls. Feeling nothing but devastation, I curled into a ball on the bathroom floor and cried.
I know that you’re thinking this story is ridiculous, but for thirteen year old Sarah, this was the equivalent to the end of the world.
My mom opened the bathroom door and spoke to me softly, telling me that the curls in my hair, the curves of my body and the mole on my cheek did not define me. I was defined by the books I read, the friends I make and the person I am when no one is watching.
Now it didn’t happen overnight, but I learned to love my curls, I learned to love my body, and I have learned to love the mole on my cheek, and for that, I am forever grateful for my mom, for teaching me how to love myself.