Sana an amazing teacher

For Sana — and for Every Teacher Who Feels Unseen Just like Sana, I love teaching. It is not just a profession to me. It is identity. It is purpose. It is the quiet belief that what we do today shapes a child’s tomorrow. And yet, teaching is often undervalued. In conversations, I have seen it happen — the subtle shift in tone when someone says they are a computer engineer or work in finance, compared to when someone says they are a teacher. There is admiration reserved for some professions and quiet dismissal for others. Teaching is too often seen as ordinary. Replaceable. Less ambitious. Sana felt that. She was deeply sensitive — not fragile, but perceptive. She felt words. She noticed tone. She absorbed the energy behind people’s perceptions. And when teaching was spoken about dismissively, she carried it more heavily than most. But what the world did not always see was this: Sana was an extraordinary teacher. Her kindness was not performative. Her empathy was instinctive. She could connect with any student — not because she was trained to, but because she genuinely saw them. She never judged. She listened. She respected her students as individuals. And in doing so, she created spaces where children felt safe, valued, and understood. We often talk about building the future. Teachers are the ones who quietly lay its foundation. We are the building blocks. We shape confidence, curiosity, character, and compassion long before any title or profession is attached to a child. Words matter. More than we realize. It is easy to be critical. Easy to compare professions. Easy to measure worth through income or status. But we rarely stop to consider the lasting impact of those words — especially on those who are sensitive and deeply invested in their calling. Sana believed in respect. In every interaction, she chose kindness. She never spoke down to anyone. She never dismissed anyone’s journey. She embodied the very values we hope to teach children. The world needs more people like that. So the next time we are tempted to judge or criticize — whether a profession, a person, or a path — may we pause. May we remember that words leave marks. And may we choose to use them gently, affirmatively, and with the respect we ourselves hope to receive. For Sana. And for every teacher who deserves to be seen.