Mrs. Rasmussen
The beginning of my eighth grade year seemed so ordinary and awkward. I was in middle school, after all. I collected my textbooks, slung my maroon backpack over my shoulder, and hesitantly walked into an oddly shaped room for my next class. I double-checked my schedule, which was ripped from being folded and unfolded about a million times by my fumbling fingers. I sat down in the closest empty chair. The teacher glided around the room as she introduced herself. She explained what 8th grade Communications was all about and what she expected from each of us. Time passed, the bell seemed to explode again, and I quickly stood up. As I walked across the speckled, blue carpet to turn in my doodled-on note card, I really had no idea who this teacher was. I had no inkling of how her passion and kindness would directly effect the rest of my life. I handed in my note card. In return, she guided, inspired, directed, supported, and above all, believed in me.
Just like my 8th grade teacher, I am here to guide and inspire, to direct and support, and above all, to believe in you. This is why I am here. I am your teacher, and excited to be that.
Just like my 8th grade teacher, I am here to guide and inspire, to direct and support, and above all, to believe in you. This is why I am here. I am your teacher, and excited to be that.