#Memories - Chapter 6: Basking in Gratitude

Hi, dear readers. It’s been a while.

I wish we were living in a completely different reality. For the past few weeks, COVID-19 has turned our world upside down, forcing us to slow down, stop, and reflect. I truly hope that in the months to come this chapter will finally be over, and that you and your loved ones will remain safe and sound. Quarantine has given us the chance to do things we often leave aside, and I feel the need to take full advantage of this time — to pause, to remember, and to write once again.

Today’s motivation did not come suddenly. I have carried it in my heart for quite some time, and now I finally feel ready to put it into words.

It has been ten years since I first began my journey toward becoming an English language teacher. I clearly remember the moment I took the PSU (thank God it is now gone). I was nervous, anxious, and under enormous pressure. My parents wanted me to attend a traditional university so I could apply for scholarships and gain academic prestige — something that, ironically, never happened, since I never received a single scholarship in my life.

As you can imagine, things did not turn out as expected. I did not get the results I wanted, and suddenly everything felt dark, uncertain, and painfully blue. My life changed in just a few hours. My parents were disappointed, and my dreams felt temporarily paused. That summer of 2009 became my escape. I disappeared from the radar. My friends barely heard from me for days. Looking back now, I believe I was depressed — the only thought repeating in my mind was: “I couldn’t make it. I won’t be a teacher.”

I cried for days until I found a full-time job in Puerto Velero. I worked from 8 a.m. to 11 p.m., from Thursday to Tuesday. I barely saw my parents during that time — and, truth be told, I did not want them to see me at all.

One day, during my “free day” (which was optional), I finally sat down with my father. We talked honestly, sharing our fears and hopes while trying to find a solution. Our financial situation was far from stable, and the chances were slim. I told him only one thing:
“You have to believe I can make it. I may need your help at first, but I will find a way. I’ll work if I have to — I will figure it out.”

And he believed in me.

Together, we visited non-traditional universities in the region. It was not an easy decision, but eventually I enrolled at Universidad del Mar (I did not finish there — but that belongs to another chapter). What mattered was that everything started again, from zero.

When the academic year of 2009 began, I felt excited and terrified at the same time. I still remember meeting my classmates for the first time — we were all so different. Some of us were childish, others surprisingly mature. It was an atypical group, and that made it special. But the most exciting moment was yet to come: meeting my teachers.

And what a moment that was.

They were demanding, intense, sometimes intimidating — but incredibly human. From the very first day, they treated us with warmth and respect. People often say, “Beware of university teachers — they are mean, they will make you suffer.” I remember thinking: If that’s true, then what kind of teachers did others have?
Years later, I have only one answer: they were not as lucky as I was.

My teachers were rays of hope. They never made me feel invisible. They had a magical way of making everyone feel seen. Whenever I passed them in the corridors, there was always something to talk about, something to laugh at. They smiled, they cared, and sometimes they offered kind words when I least expected them. Slowly, university became my favorite place to be.

Despite what others thought, I worked relentlessly to improve my English — to make my parents proud, but also to honor my teachers. It was my way of saying thank you for making me feel valued, capable, and special.

They never failed to acknowledge effort. The changes I experienced — and the changes in my classmates — felt almost miraculous. I still remember teachers telling me how impressive my progress was, how much they enjoyed listening to my oral presentations. Once, I wrote a composition and received a compliment for writing it without a single mistake. She told me it was rare to see someone write in English so naturally and smoothly. That moment meant everything to me.

Fueled by their appreciation, I kept learning — not just content, but values. I learned from their stories, their teaching styles, their commitment, and above all, their constant encouragement. Suddenly, I felt like one of the promising students in my program — not because of talent alone, but because someone believed in me enough to say “you can do it.”

Because of them, I stopped studying by memory and started studying by heart. I learned to understand instead of repeat. I tried to apply everything I learned during my intervention practices. To this day, I still keep some of the papers they signed with simple words like “Great” or “Awesome.” Those words meant the world to me. They pushed me beyond limits I didn’t even know existed.

From that point on, my academic journey felt lighter. I was often at the top of my class, yet they always reminded me of one essential truth: you never stop learning.

Today, I teach with the same dedication they once showed me. Many of my students remind me of who I was when I first met my favorite teachers. I try to give them what was once given to me — confidence, joy, and tools that last a lifetime. I owe so much of who I am to those educators. In many ways, they are responsible for the person I became.

I thank God for placing them in my life at the moment I needed them the most — when I was desperately waiting for a miracle.

This is my tribute to each and every one of you. Thank you for building me up, for lifting me when I felt lost, and for believing in me even when I struggled to believe in myself. Your faces were — and still are — treasures I will never forget. Sometimes I look back and wish I could learn from you once more. But I’ve learned that people may come and go, while feelings remain.

You showed me your brightest side, and because of that, you made my path lighter and shinier than I ever imagined. When I was your student, I finally felt that life was worth fighting for. That is what I try to pass on now — to show my students the way, hoping that one day I may fill the shoes of those who once helped me find mine.

Thank you for making me who I am. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
And if you ever think of me, look at the stars. I look at them every night — because now, the possibilities are endless

"To teach is to be an artist creating the finest piece of a sculpture: a wise student. Teach them to dream and motivate them to get the universe".

Maria Emilia Vargas, my former Headmistress at Universidad del Mar.

Abigail Uribe

Katherine Sanhueza

Christopher Maligec 

Luis Beytía

Pia García

Sandra Raggi

Patricia Figueroa

Iris Melys

María Emilia Vargas

Deisy Campos

Loreto Tapía