My family moved to Twin Falls just a few days before I started eighth grade at O’Leary Junior High. I didn’t know a soul. A longtime private school student, I was mystified by what to wear because I had always worn a uniform. I discovered my new drama teacher, Mr. Miller, knew uniforms well. He wore all black, every day, like Johnny Cash. Sunglasses, too.

He might have been an imposing presence, but Mr. Miller warmly welcomed me when I desperately needed acceptance. At a time when I was struggling just to be seen, he saw me and doubled down — encouraging me to accept my quirks, to be creative without fear of judgement, and to be loud. He made me feel like he had my back. His class was a haven and I took every one he offered, even summer workshops.

I was overjoyed when I discovered he would be moving to Twin Falls High School and I could continue working with him. I eventually made the dreadful mistake of switching from drama to debate, but Mr. Miller always welcomed me back into his classroom as if I had never left.

I wish he were still here so I could tell him how often I think about him and thank him for being the person I needed him to be. Earlier this year, 33 years after I first stepped into Mr. Miller’s classroom, I met his daughters Tabitha and Jennifer — themselves talented educators who fight for their students and their profession. Now, that’s a legacy.