A voice set free to soar

I have always loved school - the classes, the thrill of mastering something new, the joy of acing a tough exam, and the applause as you bow on stage. For me, school has always been the perfect place, and I credit much of that to my very first teacher, Miss Priscilla Salam.

She was the first person I probably overwhelmed with my endless questions and constant "why?" in response to every instruction. I was (and still am, to some extent) a loud child with more opinions than inches in height, but I never doubted I was too much. I like to believe it was all because of Miss Priscilla-because she let me spend much of class sitting in her chair, scribbling away at her desk, creating unnecessarily complicated drawings of landscapes (usually featuring a black sun)-all because that was what I was passionate about.

Miss Priscilla loved passion. She was almost as loud as a classroom full of three-year-olds and spoke about colouring, stories, and even something as mundane as practising cursive with such brightness and humour that we all wanted to understand why the cursive D had a tail but the regular one didn't. And by the gods, she inspired me to be just like her.

I still remember the first time I performed on stage. Not yet three years old, I was to recite the National Anthem alone in front of all the parents before the annual day performances. I should have been terrified-I was the youngest backstage, sick at the time, and wearing a dress I hated. I should have hated the experience. Yet, I loved it.

Because I spent those two hours of preparation and waiting in Miss Priscilla's lap, chattering away and tugging on her hair whenever she tried to do anything other than talk to me. And she never once made me feel like a burden. Instead, she encouraged my questions about the stage curtains and, just as I was about to go on, gave my shoulder a single, reassuring squeeze. That silent encouragement meant everything. When I stepped into the limelight and saw the sea of faces before me, all I needed was to see her.

I could see Miss Priscilla making a silly face from the side wings, making me giggle despite the nerves, and giving me a thumbs-up as I began to sing. From that day forward-my first performance-through thousands of others, I have never experienced stage fright. Whether it's a debate, a dramatic monologue, or hosting a school event, the stage has always felt like home-and that confidence started with her.

Miss Salam was the first person who made me feel that I had something worth saying, and more importantly, that people wanted to listen. Her encouragement didn't just spark my love for performing; it made me a confident learner, an artistic performer, and someone who embraces challenges instead of avoiding them. I have grown into a student who loves public speaking, takes pride in school events, and never hesitates to raise a hand or voice an opinion. I trace it all back to Miss Priscilla's equally loud confidence in me.

What makes her the most inspiring teacher I've ever had isn't just that she taught me my ABCs or helped me wrestle with my unruly shoelaces. It's that she gave me the freedom to be myself-loud, curious, and completely unfiltered-and never made me feel I had to shrink myself to fit in. Thanks to her, I learned early that a voice is meant to be used, not hidden. Even now, in every class I take and every stage I step onto, I carry her belief in me-and it continues to make all the difference.