Thank you, Mrs. Sweet.
My kindergarten teacher at St. Adalbert. For seeing a five-year-old little girl who's whole world was upside down with the divorce of her parents. Thank you for taking the extra time with me to make sure I was okay. Thank you for teaching me that I didn't need to be afraid of walking down a long flight of stairs. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of the word capable, even if it was in a sentence that sounded a lot like, "You are capable of doing better, Epi." That was something that clearly stuck with me. I'm capable of doing better.
Thank you, Sister Doloretta.
For throwing chalk, erasers, and even books at us in fifth grade when some of us were maybe less than respectful towards you. Sometimes a talking 11 year old needs to have a chalkboard eraser bounced off her head to wake up and pay attention.
Thank you Mr. Salwiesz.
For putting an arm around my shoulder that day when I was in seventh grade and telling me that sometimes people who we think are friends can be unbelievably cruel.
Thank you Mr. Crego.
For being one of the toughest teacher I've ever had. For teaching me how to use a camera, how to work in a darkroom, and how to inspire my classmates to move their asses when clearly they'd rather do anything than write another article on a highschool football game. And for giving me the first "A" you had ever given.
Thank you Mr. Ross.
My favorite teacher ever. Thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone and proving to me that I can speak in front of a crowd of Shriners. Thank you for seeing potential in me two years before I'd be eligable to take the DECA class and actively recruiting me for those two years. Thank you for paying for the portion of the Nationals trip that I couldn't cover on my own, two years in a row. Thank you for continuing to take an interest in my life, even 14 years later. And most importantly, thank you for not getting my butt suspended when I might have set that password on your screensaver, effectively locking you out of your only computer for three days. I really appreciate that.
Thank you Don Wollenbecker.
For teaching hundreds if not thousands of people what it takes to be a Basic. I consider myself so lucky to have been one "Don's kids". Some of the best Medic's and Basic's that I know are some of your former students. Thank you for never letting an opportunity to embarrass me in front of the class go. Thank you for also taking the time to teach me how to do a proper medical assessment before class. And the following day. Thank you for talking me down off that cliff before NR practicals. Thank you for lending my son your FF helmet for show and tell, and for telling me that I'd make a good Medic. Coming from you it means more than you could possibly know.
Thank you Nick Bordeaux and Mark Vieta.
My Medic instructors.
Thank you Nick for getting so angry with us as a group when we weren't working up to our potential. Thank you for those nights where you showed up to teach even though you had just worked more hours than you'd like to admit, and still managed to make class fun and interesting. Thank you for ever note you ever wrote on any of the test result sheets you ever handed me, they inspired me! Thank you. I might not have survived your class, but I will survive the next one.
Thank you Mark for being an insufferable prick. That being said thank you for teaching me that I needed to have a thicker skin, in your own way of course.
Learning life lessons. I've had some amazing teachers.
