I don't know if Mel knows this, but before I started teaching at the Academy, I gave in to my inner-creeper tendencies and... full on stalked the English teachers' websites and facebook pages. Afterward, I knew I wanted to work at the Academy because the English department was filled with the kind of teachers I wanted to become. Four years later, I still want to be Mel.The summer before my first year of teaching, the English staff met for a day-long meeting, and by the time I left, Mel made sure I knew everyone's name, their kids' names--and their dogs' names. She made me a family tree with highlighters on a scrap piece of paper. Then, she asked me all about my life and why I wanted to be a teacher. She wanted to know my story. She wanted me to feel known. I have met few people in my life who have that innate drive within them--to make people feel known. It's a striking quality.During my time at the Academy, Mel walked me through how to structure curriculum units, how to teach Animal Farm to 8th graders, how to incorporate vocabulary into daily warm-ups, and how to write essay prompts. I learned much about the science of teaching from Mel. But, it was what I saw Mel do --her actions, her unspoken decisions--that showed me that there is also an art to teaching. I believe this art centers around the concept of helping people feeling known. What I saw her do will stay with me:I saw her plant and grow succulents as a gift to every senior student.I saw her help one of my 8th graders (not even her own student) who has selective mutism; together they searched and searched on her shelves (more than thirty minutes) for a book that my student found interesting (The Chocolate Wars). I saw her hang her students' essays, post-it notes, and drawings on every free inch of her classroom walls.I saw her open her room for the English department as a place to eat Jimmy John's sandwiches together (thanks, Leith), as a place to vent about grading essays, as a place to argue about literature circle books... as a place to silently sit in the desks and grieve the loss of one of our Academy students.One time, she let me borrow some memoir exemplars that her former 7th graders had written. In the margins of their stories, I saw her handwriting: "Beautiful imagery." "Powerful." "That must have been exciting!" "Wonderful conclusion."This introduction was supposed to be all about how much fun I had documenting the Allen family (because I really did have so much fun documenting the Allen family--they're amazing). But, the reason I was given a glimpse into this beautiful foursome was because Mel first gave me a glimpse into what it means to be a pour-your-heart-into-your-people kind of a teacher--kind of a person -- when we worked together at the Academy. She poured into me. Sitting in her classroom my first year feeling overwhelmed and stretched by teaching, I told Mel I thought I might want to go back to full-time photography. She told me: "You don't have to love teaching. If you're passionate about photography and want to pursue it, that's okay." For some reason, in that moment, all the pressure to immediately fall in love with this new, overwhelming, and challenging teaching career dissipated. I didn't have to love teaching. I could walk away, and that would be okay. But, in that moment, it also hit me that I do love teaching. So, I stayed and taught for a few more years.Mel, I still want to be you. I want to be creative, organized, and national board certified like you. But, I also want to be the kind of mom you are. The kind of mom who laughs when bows are snatched off, shoes are tossed aside, and shorts are wet from the cold creek water.  Thank you showing me how to navigate this new art-- this new challenging, overwhelming art of parenting. As always, I'm learning so much from you.______________________________P.S. I love that Mel chose the Laverne M. Johnson park in Lyons for our shoot not only because she loves taking her kids there, but also because she and her husband Mark were married on the hill that overlooks it.P.P.S. Mel sent me this text message after our shoot, and it made three-year-old Oliver (who told me earlier in the day that he loves chocolate pizza and blue crocodiles) my new favorite human (Sorry, Soph):"Oli said on the way home, 'Mama, is Caroline going to be home when we get there? Otherwise, I'm going to miss her.'" I mean, come on. Heartsplosion.A few moments later, Oliver would exclaim: "Oh no, she gave me tongue kisses!"Those teeth! Those cheeks! Those baby blues! I'm smitten. I am obsessed with Tatum's personality. She is undaunted.Thank you, Allen family. xoxo