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For the first time, I had cried so deeply. My eyes streamed as if their springs had burst open. In that moment, I felt as if I had fallen into an empty void. My teacher, the one who made me who I am, was leaving. I was young; I was mischievous and lazy. She reached out, pulled me from a dark well. She looked into my eyes with a warm smile. She believed in me more than I believed in myself; perhaps she made me who I am. In that moment, I understood how a teacher can bring a child back to life. Sh