You won't remember me. I was one of your students nine years ago. No, I wasn't even in your homeroom. I only had you four times a week for about an hour of math. Fourth grade math... it seems like a lifetime ago to me.

I had just moved to a new school. My teacher the previous year had been an ex-nun who delighted in long division. She made me explain it to another student when I didn't understand it myself and then she got mad at me for not helping the other student. But at this new school, I guess I did well on the math placement test. Yours was the second highest math class out of the six.

I honestly don't remember much of your class. I have little snippets of memories. The cribbage tournament in which I lost every game. The chess tournament in which I lost every game. Silly little logic problems. Tessellations (I still have mine). The stuffed animals that you used to decorate your classroom. But I do remember the confidence you helped me gain. The understand of concepts that would help me excel in the years afterward. You installed in me a love of numbers.

The teachers I had in the years afterwards never really taught me anything. All the mathematics I learned in the eight years after I left your classroom I taught myself. The teachers after you were anything but inspiring.

I'm graduating this year with high honors. I successfully completed two years of advanced placement calculus and two years of physics. I owe a lot of this to you.

So many times over the years, I wanted to back go and thank you. But you won't remember me. I was one of the hundreds of students that have passed through your classroom for only a short time. That time was enough to profoundly influence my life.

I'll be studying engineering next year thanks to you. I should have written this sooner. I wish I knew how to reach you now. My only hope is that you'll run across these words sometime and realize that it was written to you. Eight years ago you changed at least one life for the better.

Forever indebted to you