I’ve been writing this thank you note since the day I left my junior year of high school. Before the Internet, in all its robustness, I called Westbury High School and called Rice University to try to track down Katherine Drake, a 1990 graduate of their chemistry program and one-year teacher at Westbury. I have been trying to send this one thank you note to this amazing woman for decades.

Ms. Drake had just married her college sweetheart, Earl, when she decided to teach at Westbury High School. As a first-year science teacher, she was assigned a lot of beginner level and repeat level classes. The very in-demand honors chemistry teacher ended up with a class of almost 40 honors kids — too much for one class. So, Mrs. Drake was given one honors chemistry class — and I was lucky enough to be part of that cohort.

I had many magical teachers — Mr. Slackman, your entry is coming — and yet Mrs. Drake has always stood head and shoulders above the rest. Allowing Patrick Hallmark and me to come in early every day to ask questions, bringing in books during our ‘reading time’ to inspire us (she introduced me to the wonders of Anne Tyler with Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant that year). She even taught me how to deal with blisters, and also let me sleep in her class after we went to my first concert — Paul Simon!

Me and the ever-beautiful Karen Andrews in my junior year; oh I wish I had a photo of me and Mrs. Drake.

But what I remember most is how she encouraged me in a subject that I had zero innate skill in — chemistry. She would go to any length to show me my potential, even in a subject that I had to work very, very hard in to succeed.

Her patience with me was limitless. Her ability to explain really complicated subjects in a way that I understand stays with me to this day.

And because she believed in me, despite all evidence to the contrary, I worked so hard to please her. While I phoned it in for much of high school, I studied my heart out for my chemistry final. I needed an A to do something … qualify for something? … and I wanted to show Mrs. Drake that she was right — that I was smart enough to understand chemistry.

I remember asking her so many questions, and I remember her patient, kind answers. I most of all remember being at home, the day after my junior year finals. I walked in, and pressed ‘play’ on the answering machine. My mom and I had a hilarious, hilarious rap that we sang into the machine (“This is the Prestons’ answering machine, leave a message, but keep it clean! We’re out right now but we’re listening in, at the sound of the beep you may begin! Beep beep!”).

Immediately after that, I was shocked and worried to hear Mrs. Drake’s voice on my home machine — what was she calling to say? Then I heard the words I remember to this day: “Elizabeth, you did it. You scored the highest score in the class for the final, a 92.”

That — my success (never again repeated in chemistry), her willingness to call me at home, her belief in me and her support — was what I’ve been trying to say thank you for over the last 22 years. She changed my life; she taught me to expect I could succeed far more than I expected. She taught me more than I can capture here — and she never came back to Westbury. She went elsewhere, and no matter how many times I search for Katherine Drake, or Earl, I can’t find them.

Wherever you are, Mrs. Drake, I hope your heart has been hearing my endless thank you— for the call, the books, and the lessons, beloved Mrs. Drake. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.

(I have photos with all my other beloved teachers, but no photos with Mrs. Drake — I thought she’d be back for my senior year to take pictures.)