To My teachers and professors

Dear Teachers and Professors,

Thank you for your wisdom in the midst of what often felt like a never-ending battle. Thank you for continuing to teach me through the absences, the surgeries, the exhaustion, the setbacks, and all the moments where life interrupted what should have been a normal

education.

Thank you for not reducing me to “the sick student” or treating me as though my

circumstances defined my potential. Instead, you often held me to a higher standard than the

one I was setting for myself—and in doing so, you reminded me that I was capable of more than

survival.

I know I was not always an easy student. I had difficult days. I skipped class sometimes—yes,

occasionally on purpose. I fell asleep in lectures more times than I can count. I carried

exhaustion, grief, pain, frustration, and fear into your classrooms. There were days when simply

showing up felt like climbing a mountain.

Yet you still stood beside me.

You challenged my intellect when it would have been easier to excuse me from the work. You

gave me assignments that stretched my thinking, awakened my curiosity, and helped me

rediscover joy in learning. You reminded me that my mind still mattered, even when my body

was struggling.

To my public school teachers especially—you often worked within systems that were stretched

thin and limited in what they could offer, yet you still took the time to learn how I learned best.

You paid attention. You adapted. You cared. Those things mattered more than you probably

ever realized.

School was not easy for me. There were days I felt lost after missing weeks at a time. There

were teachers who did not understand me, moments where I felt unseen, and seasons where I

questioned whether I would ever catch up. But somehow, through all of it, you kept planting

seeds of knowledge, discipline, confidence, and hope.

And now, when I look back, I realize how much of who I am was shaped in your classrooms.

To my professors in college and seminary—thank you for helping me grow not only

academically, but spiritually. Thank you for helping shape the woman I am today. You helped me

wrestle deeply with theology, refine my calling, and discover the kind of ministry I hope to carry

into the world.

You did not create the passion within me—but you cultivated it. The seed had been planted long

ago, but you helped water it, strengthen it, and give it room to grow.

I still remember one of my very first interactions with Northwestern, when someone simply said,

“We affirm women in ministry here.” In that moment, something in me exhaled. I felt seen.

Welcomed. Called. And from there, so many of you continued to affirm gifts in me that I was still

learning to believe were real.

Thank you for seeing my heart for those impacted by trauma and suffering and allowing that

passion to grow instead of dismissing it. Thank you for mentoring me, challenging me, walking

with me through both beautiful and painful seasons, and empowering me instead of discrediting me.

Some of you taught me subjects.

Some of you taught me how to think.

Some of you taught me how to persevere.

And some of you taught me that my voice deserved to take up space in this world.

I carry your lessons with me every day.

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not

give up.” — Galatians 6:9

Thank you for not giving up on me.

With gratitude,

Kelsay, B.A., M.A.