My grade three teacher was probably the best teacher of my short school life. It was a difficult year. Lots of foster homes and lots of time running away. Third grade was when my abduction happened and after I got out of hospital I was placed in yet another bad home. My desire for running away was lacking. I stuck around for a few months and during that time I went to school. I wasn’t functioning that well and the teacher noticed that. She made a fort at the back of the class and told me that if I needed to get away I could go in there. Nothing spectacular just large pieces of cardboard. But she put a pillow and a few books and pencil crayons. I spent a lot of time in that fort. Sometimes sleeping. Sometimes crying silently. Sometimes just sitting there having flashbacks. She spent a lot of one on one time with me and I stayed late after school a lot. Sometimes just catching up on schoolwork other times it was so I didn’t have to go home. Most it was just her and me just being quiet. It was calming for me. It was a rough year. I hated school but out of all the teachers I had, she was the best.

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