Grace Fyke
Parker Middle School
Howell

Trapped and drowning in a world within my mind, are the thoughts that will never be heard, the ones that scream and cry for a voice. I imprisoned the devastating cries, no matter what they need to say, in an unbreakable cell buried in the unfathomable depths of my mind. There, suppressed in the obsidian oubliette, they can’t bother me or claw at my throat as they try to break to the surface. But unknowingly to myself, there is a light in this seemingly unending abyss of sorrow. A small light it may be, but it is there. To this day, I am eternally grateful that I found that light–the light whom I call, Mrs. Root.

Mrs. Root became the light that vanquished the guardian which kept my true voice locked away. The wonder that constantly absorbed her eyes, the kindness she displayed towards all–whether they deserved it or not–and her passion for writing fueled the flame that defeated the guard which I have come to call anxiety.

I knew from the moment I stepped into Mrs. Roots classroom, full of books and vanilla fragrance, she would help me in many ways. Thank goodness my assumptions were correct. Throughout the year, Mrs. Root gave me a new understanding of writing. She showed me how to use my dying, internalized voices to create works of art. She showed me how to create magnificent castles and gardens, how to create clear, detailed images of the scenes that play out in my head. She helped me develop a way to produce devastating battles within a story, internal and external alike. She gave me the ability to initiate emotion into my writing.

Her classroom became a way for me to express how I feel through my writing. I was even more comfortable for I knew that she was the only one who would read what I wrote. Every story I sent to her was returned with feedback and comments. This lead to giving me the courage to let others read what I wrote as well. Her classroom became my sanctuary. My safe place.

Daily, Mrs. Root listened to what I needed to say. Whenever panic arose in my mind, when my "guard" arose from its slumber, I’d go straight to her classroom. I would spill all of my inner thoughts and words that so desperately need to be heard, and she’d listen to them. She always knew exactly what to say to calm me down; how to comfort me. Sometimes, I’d write a story about it, indulging myself in the details. She would read every story, and I’d always feel better knowing that she did.

So, to this day, when asked who my personal Michigan Hero is, there is no doubt whom I would choose. Mrs. Root is most definitely my personal Michigan Hero, for she is the one who listened to the unheard voices and is the light in the darkness we all strive to be.