A timely blog post by 2010 national teacher of the year finalist Kelly Kovacic – “Thank You Notes” – celebrates California's Day of the Teacher on May 12 by thanking teachers who were very important in her life and career. Kovacic got the idea after receiving a two-page letter from a student she had in advisory for seven years. "She attached a short note to the letter," explains Kovacic, "saying that, after all the letters of recommendation I wrote for her, she wanted to write one for me because 'you can never have too many letters of recommendation'."

Inspired by Kovacic's example, members of the Teacher Leaders Network daily discussion group set about writing thank-you notes and letters of recommendation of their own. A selection will appear today at the Teacher Magazine website. The rest, which we are sharing here, will be linked to the Teacher article. We encourage you to offer a thank you or recommendation letter of your own!

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Tayor Ross is a young first grade teacher in Birmingham, Alabama. She serves on the Governor’s Teacher Quality Commission and is featured in multimedia that demonstrates state teaching quality standards.

Dear Mrs. Gaffney-Hsu,

When I entered your English class in ninth grade, it was like a dream come true. You were intelligent, thought-provoking, and interesting. You asked us questions that forced us to consider opinions and beliefs outside of ourselves. You helped me recognize a deep appreciation for writing that I didn't know existed. On a personal level, you began to invest in me as a student and friend. Your commitment to my learning, my confidence, and my overall well-being was a testament to your character. So much, in fact, that I remained a student of yours in the Theatre Department for two more years, choosing to stay behind the curtain with props and directing.

I will never forget the many hours we spent after school and on weekends in rehearals and preparations, but mostly I remember how most of us were dedicated because it meant we could share more time with you. You encouraged me to always expect more from myself, to be honest and compassionate when dealing with others, and to use my gifts and talents to make the world a better place. As a student in your classroom, I never dreamed I would end up in the same profession as you..but in all honesty, I don't think I would have if you hadn't shown me the impact one teacher can have. Thank you for being the teacher you are -- and were -- to students who needed you the most.

Cossondra George teaches seventh grade mathematics and social studies in rural Michigan. Her article for new teachers, “Taming the Dragon of Classroom Chaos,” is a perennial favorite at Teacher Magazine.

Kelly Kovacic inspired me to write this "letter of recommendation" for Mrs. Fair, my own 7th grade math teacher. During my years of school, I had many wonderful teachers who touched me in personal ways, serving to create the “me” of today who now teaches middle school. However, of all those teachers, Mrs. Fair stands out as the one who made the most significant difference in my life. When she came to our junior high -- young, pretty, in her impeccable clothes -- all of the girls looked up to her, wanting to be like her some day. She always looked the part of the perfect teacher, and best of all, she smelled wonderful! We were entranced from the start.

Once we got past being mesmerized by her picture perfect appearance, we discovered this wonderful, soft spoken, caring, kind, patient, guiding person who pushed us further than we'd ever been pushed before. Math had always been mundane, something I had done with rote patience, a task to be completed. But with Mrs Fair, math became exciting, engaging, a subject that made my mind twist and turn, thinking about concepts in a new way. I was hooked, forever hooked on math!

Even when I was struggling, she encouraged me. When I was confused, she believed in me. When I wanted to give up, she pushed me harder. Seventh grade was a turning point for me. I learned how to be a student, how to experience success through unconditional teaching. Mrs. Fair was the reason. And the reason I would someday stand in front of 7th graders, trying to impart the same skills to them in the way she did to me.

Bill Ivey a teacher and middle school leader at all-girl Stoneleigh-Burnham School in western Massachusetts. He writes about practice, policy and the teaching life at both the SBS middle school bloghis blog at the Independent School Educators Network. and

It's not particularly hard to identify the most influential teachers in my life as I think about them time and time again, year after year. Miss Dmytryk (5th grade), with her inexplicably frequent reminders that "Patience is a virtue we must all strive to possess," and who once commented, "I think you're going to be a writer some day - or a comedian!" (...) However, realizing this is "Day of the Teacher" and wanting to play by the rules, and recognizing it would be cheating to pick my wife, I want to write my letter of recommendation for one teacher only. I choose Mark Springer. (read more...)

Middle grades teacher Bill Ferriter teaches language arts and social studies in North Carolina, where he was a regional teacher of the year. His second book, Teaching the iGeneration, will be published by Solution Tree this fall.

Thank You, Mrs. Morosini, for being one of the most challenging teachers that I ever had the chance to learn from. I've got to say that when I walked into your fifth grade classroom as an active 10 year old boy, I was scared to death! I'd heard rumors about how strict you were from everyone in my neighborhood, and those rumors were confirmed on the first day of school when you yelled at me for whispering to Karen Swiderski!

"Billy," you said, "Is that REALLY the impression you want to make on the first day of school!"

I wilted under your glare, but that was a pattern that repeated itself about a thousand times from August to June too, wasn't it? There was something about being in a class with all of my buddies that made an already distractable kid even more distracted! Whether I was talking out of turn to Brian Bushcowski, letting Karen cheat off of my math papers, or whipping up fart juice with Paul Pfluger, I had to be more than an handful, huh?

And you were definitely the hammer of justice! If we could go back and dig up my discipline records from your classroom, they'd make a great read today. It's kind of surprising that we both survived, actually----especially after Battlestar Galactica left Paul and I inspired enough to shout regularly about the chocolate covered Cylons coming out of our butts while coming in from recess each day.

Somewhere in the thousand "warm conversations" that you and I shared, you said something that has defined who I am as a person, though. You said, "Bill, it takes a long time to earn someone's trust and respect and only one stupid mistake to lose it all."

That made sense to my tweenage brain----and it has served as a constant reminder to me in every relationship since. I can even hear your voice when I'm standing on the edge of a tricky decision that could change what others think of me and MOST of the time, I choose to avoid the stupid mistakes that defined me as a child.

Kind of wild, isn't it? You were the teacher that was the hardest on me as a child. I can honestly say that I'm not sure I enjoyed a moment of your class while I was living it. But you're also one of the teachers who has shaped who I am as a man. For that, I owe you one!


After a long career as an elementary educator and adjunct instructor at Brown University, Marti Schwartz returned to the classroom this year as a literacy teacher in a high needs Rhode Island high school.

Dear Miss Gloria DelPapa: This is long overdue. There are so many things I never told you. First: you were the teacher who felt like you knew me and cared about me...which was especially important during my senior year, when I felt like all of my anchors had been set adrift. My mother had remarried and moved out of state, a close friend had been killed in a car accident, and I felt I had no connections left with high school. But you cared. You let us see your human side. We knew that your "beau" had been killed in Vietnam, which made our strong protests against the war a bit gentler in your presence, as the war had a human face.

You let us write poetry that expressed the teenage angst we needed to let out, and you wrote warm, encouraging comments on our work. It is because of you that this year, 40 years out of high school, I had my own students read Spoon River Anthology poems aloud and write their own. When I recently located the one I wrote (way back then) it was dreadful - but I remember the power that finding my own voice gave me, and it was a joy to give it to my current students. Yes, it's because of you that I am a teacher. Thanks.

David B. Cohen is a National Board-certified English teacher in Palo Alto, California. He is a co-founder of Accomplished California Teachers and writes for their group blog, InterACT.

In the fall of 1986, my senior class at Harvard High School in North Hollywood, CA, arrived at school to find a new administrator sitting in the office of the Head of Upper School. John Butler had come to us from the East Coast, with his wife and two young children, and he immediately became a part of our family as well. He had a warm voice and a gracious smile, and a brightness in his eyes that I can still see almost 24 years later.

At some point early in the year, he encouraged us to drop into his office to introduce ourselves and visit with him. I was the kind of student who would take up an offer like that, and it became a habit in no time, to stop into Mr. Butler's office when I was passing by his open door and had a moment to spare. I wish I could recall the content of some of our conversations, but at the same time, I'm sure that what mattered more was having such a kind and friendly educator who took an interest in me, and would sometimes set aside his work just to chat with a student.

In the spring of 1987, we were devastated to learn that Mr. Butler had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Our senior year would turn out to be Mr. Butler's only year at Harvard. I understand that he returned to the East Coast, and I don't know much more than that. But during our graduation ceremonies, there was a moment I'll never forget. Another faculty member on the stage asked us to acknowledge Mr. Butler, and our class stood in perfect unison to applaud and honor him. I wished that ovation could have lasted long enough to convey the depth of my feelings of thankfulness and sorrow. I was moved to tears then, and even writing this now stirs those old emotions. He became to me a model for how to embrace new situations with open enthusiasm, how to welcome new people into your life, how to treat young people with sincere interest and respect, and how to confront tragedy with bravery and grace.

I wish to God I could have said these things to him and to his family back then. John Butler was not my teacher in a classroom, but the lessons I learned from him made me a better man.