I’ll never forget the year seventh grade reshaped my understanding of learning and self-worth. As a passionate learner, I had always taken pride in my curiosity and enthusiasm in the classroom. However, in that pivotal year, I found myself isolated—not only as one of the few Black students in my class but also as someone whose authentic voice was repeatedly stifled.
A Classroom of Contradictions
In a classroom led by a Caucasian, female teacher I later referred to as “Mrs. Wrong,” I was constantly forced to second-guess my contributions. Every time I raised my hand with bright-eyed enthusiasm, I was met with dismissive questions and subtle signals that my ideas weren’t quite what she expected. Her relentless challenges—questions like “Did you really think of that?” and “Where did you get that from?”—made my participation feel like a series of tests rather than genuine engagements. Rather than nurturing my inquisitiveness, I was pushed to deliver rote memorization and silent compliance. I slowly began to feel like an automaton, doing just enough to meet the benchmark of the honor roll while desperately trying to stay out of her “target range.”
The Hidden Literacies Silenced
In that environment, my hidden talents and ways of understanding were overlooked. I wasn’t allowed to show up as the complete, vibrant individual I truly was. While many of my classmates remained quiet, my eagerness to contribute became a double-edged sword—each attempt to participate only chipped away at my self-confidence and sense of identity. I began to question not only whether I was smart or capable enough, but also whether I had a right to express myself beyond what was dictated by a narrow, rigid framework of “acceptable” learning.
A Turning Point and Uncertain Questions
I often reflect on why my parents moved me away from teachers who recognized and nurtured my potential—Mrs. Anderson, Mrs. Betts, Mrs. Reynolds, Mrs. Stringer, and Mrs. Watkins—to a situation that seemed driven by convenience rather than care. I coined the pseudonym “Mrs. Wrong” because her actions had a lasting impact. Did she intentionally try to discredit me and stifle my joy, or was she merely carrying forward ingrained assumptions about intelligence and behavior? I may never know the answer, but with time, I have come to accept those memories as a critical part of my journey.
The North Star That Guides Me
Amid the pain, one truth remained constant. Dr. Maya Angelou’s words—"People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel"—became a North Star for me. I realized that by allowing someone to discredit my voice, I was giving away pieces of myself that mattered most. That experience, difficult as it was, ultimately drove me to embrace my true self and grow into the teacher I once so desperately needed.
Becoming the Teacher I Needed
Today, I reflect on those formative moments with both sorrow and strength. That challenging experience taught me the power of authentic engagement and inspired me to advocate for educational spaces where every student’s unique perspective is celebrated. I became the teacher I wanted to have—a mentor who listens deeply, values every contribution, and creates an environment where every learner can shine.
For every student who has ever felt overlooked or misunderstood, know that your passion and uniqueness are your strengths. Let your voice be heard, and let your experiences fuel your journey toward not only academic excellence but also genuine self-expression.
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