I Reunited With My First-Grade Teacher Who Helped Me Find My Voice

As we grow older, we often forget the teachers from our early childhood, the ones who quietly shaped us and had a hand in nurturing our development long before we realized it. They might cross our minds from time to time, but if we're lucky, the ones who truly impacted our development and growth remain with us — either throughout the journey or, in my case, reappear nearly 30 years later.

I was a shy kid, and opening up to anyone outside of my immediate family was unheard of. I still remember my first day of school. My mom and dad pried me out of the car as I kicked and screamed, begging them not to make me go into that place. Some would say I was spoiled; I say I was deeply loved at home. I just needed to feel safe, sure and a sense of comfort that someone had my back as I entered the hallways of what I considered unfamiliar territory.

That all changed in first grade, thanks to Miss Kish (as we knew her before she married and became Mrs. Spurio). She saw me. She helped me bloom. Her impact was so profound that even now, in my 30s, I find myself telling anyone who will listen how much she helped cultivate the person I would become early on. Excellence was her standard, and if you started to fall short of your best self, she gently and lovingly guided you back.

I'll never forget the quiet transformation. From the child who cried every day during school drop-offs, I became the one begging to be dropped off early. I was proud to be her morning helper. I felt seen and wore the title with complete honor. It was then that I began to fully blossom and completely emerge from my shyness shell at school. I excelled socially and academically under Miss Kish's watch. I won the spelling bee, was a top reader in my class, and leaned into my creativity by writing fictional stories.

I was also fully engaged when it came to class participation and exercising my public speaking skills. All those tools would later help me in life, both in social and professional settings and contribute to building my career, unknowingly honing my skill sets and inadvertently shaping my future as a journalist, both behind the keyboard and in front of the camera. By the end of the school year, that shy little girl had come in full bloom.

According to the site, We Are Teachers, "79% of students say a teacher encouraged them to follow their dreams." I am one of them. I carried that confidence with me for years, never expecting our paths would cross again nearly three decades later. But as anyone who's ever been deeply impacted by a great teacher knows—their influence doesn’t end with the school year. It stays with you. And in my case, it came back full circle.

Fast forward, and I received an unexpected yet pleasant surprise email from Mrs. Spurio. Every emotion came rushing in. I reread her message multiple times and sat with it for a few weeks before finally hitting reply.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to reconnect. It was actually the opposite. I had thought about her for years and even tried doing a little research to find her, but I always came up short. Ironically, about two years earlier, during a conversation with ABC News 20/20 Co-Anchor and New York Times Best-Selling Author Deborah Roberts, I mentioned how determined I was to find my first-grade teacher. While reading her book, Lessons Learned and Cherished: The Teacher Who Changed My Life, I came across reflections from others about the educators who inspired them. That moment planted a seed and their stories got me thinking: “What would I say to Miss Kish if I ever got the chance?”

Well, I got that chance—and it was everything the little girl inside me needed. We laughed, we hugged, we shared stories and we completely made up for lost time. As I get older, I realize just how important it is to make space for what truly matters: to be present even when life tries to pull you up, down, and all around in a million directions. The reality is there will always be something for us to do, our calendars will always be full and there will always be items waiting on our to-do lists. But when someone special reappears in your life, you have to take the opportunity and make the moment happen. And that’s exactly what I did.

Let me tell you, my heart was overflowing with so much joy. I was proud that I could make it happen and honored to have done so. After some back-and-forth, our schedules aligned. I hopped on a flight back home to Ohio, where we met for dinner. And in true Mrs. Spurio fashion, she didn’t come empty-handed. She brought photo albums filled with class pictures, a birthday card I’d made her at six years old — still in perfect condition — and a story I'd helped illustrate, preserved in a plastic binder that looked like it could have been created yesterday, not nearly decades ago.

She had poured into me back then and was still doing so again unknowingly at my big age. Now, it’s my turn to pour into her.

Mrs. Spurio invested in my future without fanfare, without accolades and definitely without the financial compensation teachers so often deserve. She deserves all the flowers—not just from me, but from every child whose life she touched. And I know I’m not alone in these feelings. I spoke with a few childhood friends who were also fortunate enough to be in her class, and we all shared the same sentiment: She made learning feel like joy. She made it fun.

In making someone feel seen and special, it’s now my turn. So, if you’re reading this, Mrs. Spurio, thank you from the little six-year-old and now adult. Thank you for the lessons and the encouragement for treating your students with such kindness and care. Thank you for seeing a quiet little girl and helping her find her voice. And lastly, thank you for showing me—decades before I knew it—that believing in someone is one of the greatest gifts you can give. You helped me bloom once, and somehow, 30 years later, you did it once again.