I was five years old when my family moved from the home we had lived in for so long. We moved to a new school, with new friends, and new problems. My mother had just given birth to what seemed at the time to be the antichrist, we call him Evan. It was in that year that I was enrolled in first grade. My teacher was Ms. Hillsinger, I don't remember much about her, but I do remember staring out the window everyday dreaming of a world where I was still at my old house and playing with my old friends. Third grade, I had painstakingly fought thought first grade with no friends and second grade with the loss of my idol, my grandfather. This new grade showed no hope at first. I was in a new school, new teacher, no friends, and stuck in what seemed like a prison cell for teddy bears. This was the year I met Mr. Thompson, the first teacher to have faith in me. I worked hard everyday in his class and practiced out side of school in hopes that I would meet his expectations. I had the highest math and reading score of my entire class, but more importantly I had friends and that is when the spark was born and began to start the fire. Fourth grade flew by with ease as I reached for the stars and tried desperately to impress my teachers. Fifth grade, it started like every other year, but this year my friends Wesley was there. I was so excited for another year of school and this year with a friend! I decided I wanted to learn the saxophone and started my first week of practice when my parents decided to move my brothers and I to a new school. I'm not going to lie, I cried more than once and it felt as though I was finally getting my roots into the earth when they were ripped from ground. Each tear was a reminder that everything good that ever happened to me, ultimately ended in sadness. Fifth grade, it was the first day at my new school when I met my new teacher. She had a passion for education that I could only remember seeing in Mr. Thompson's eyes two years prior. I decided I wanted to be a good student for her too, but everyone there was so much smarter, I tried and I tried, but to no avail so I became a trouble maker, but it only brought me anger and more sadness. Sixth grade came around and I remained a good student, but with my small class I was forced to make friends which was not a bad thing. Seventh, Eigth, Nineth grade, I fought through middle school and entered high school all with no real friends and no hope for the future. My "baby fat" became more and more just fat and my love for learning was turned away and I could feel my fire being stomped out. With every word that a bully or cruel teacher would utter it felt like a blade of ice plunged deep into my heart and attempting to extinguish my lust for learning. Nineth grade I joined football, not because I wanted to, but because my parents thought I needed more friends and that this was a good way to make me "popular". Apparently, the best thing a parent can do for their child is make them "popular". I learned quickly that year that I was not popular and that football was not for me. Coaches screamed at me to get angry and hurt people, but it was like trying to explain to a horse that it is a bird. I tried and tried, but after a mental breakdown full of tears and desperation I realized who I was. I wiped my tears away, took a deep breath, and opened my eyes to a new me! I let the fire that had been almost extinguished by angry words and hurtful people to fill with new life. I let it consume me and burn away the words that haunted me day after day, night after night. I stopped starving myself and trying to be someone I'm not, I accepted myself for who I was even when no one else could and I began to look at life in a new light that I created. I learned quickly and tried hard. I made new friends and learned many new things. Tenth grade, eleventh grade, I took as many dual enrollment and AP classes as I possibly could to finally prove to my teachers, my parents, my brothers, and the world that I was intelligent, that I was worth something, and that I wasn't going to just give up without a fight. Twelfth grade I am now ready to graduate from highschool, I am accepted into college, I allowed myself to breath my first breath of fresh air, and I am getting ready to become a teacher. I would not have made it as far as I did without the teacher who helped me along the way. I'm not going to say I'm 100% better though, I still have days that I wish I was never born and I still think of all the worst possible scenarios before I do anything, but I am finally happy being me. No amount of insults or comments from relatives on my weight will ever change that. I refuse to starve myself and cry with a stomach full of nothing, but sorrow. I am not that person any more and some day I hope to be the teacher to spark a love for learning.