Instead, she had us write to the embassies of different countries to gain information. When I gave my report to the class, knowing that I had to overcome my shyness in front of my classmates to escape her critical eye, she told me that my report was "excellent, that she really felt like she was living in Greece when I spoke," and I got an a.I realized then that although she set high standards, if her students met them, she would reward them. Every Friday, she would make special mention of students who had excelled, and give them stickers or erasers, which we all collected. They were seldom the same students. She never played favorites. Her classroom was always abuzz every Monday with discussion about the current event articles we had to bring into class. When we read an assignment as a class, we didn't simply answer questions about the tale -- we would cook cornbread when we learned...

Everything was hands-on, tactile and creative.
Because she kept firm control over her class, even the gawkiest students never got teased. And despite her strictness, she was not without compassion. Later that year, when my family was going through a rough time, she took me aside and expressed her sympathy. Then, she gave me extra time to complete my assignments, and stayed after school to help me with my work, or simply just to talk.

This woman helped me learn that strictness is not always a vice in the heart of an educator or a mentor. The act of disciplining a child is often an act of love. High expectations come from a belief in the power of one's students, not out of malice. That year, I learned the secret being intellectually challenged can be exciting, and I hope to bring that spirit to my studies today.