I’m a teacher at a school in Finland, teaching six- to sixteen-year-olds. The six-year-olds are considered pre-school here. The pre-school class has a rotation of teachers who look after them when the final bell rings in the afternoon, and today it is one of our newer teachers, our English teacher, who has moved here from the USA.

I notice her class is still full of students, all sitting awkwardly at their desks, several minutes after the final bell. Their teacher is standing there looking irritated. I enter the class:

Me: “Why is your class still here?”

US Teacher: “Because none of their parents have come to pick them up yet! They’re still waiting.”

Me: “They’re not being picked up. They walk home.”

She looks like I just told her we let six-year-olds drive cars.

US Teacher: “Walk home?! But they’re children!”

Behind her, the kids begin fidgeting. A few raise their hands.

Student: “Ma’am, it’s fine. We always walk.”

Another Student: “My house is less than two kilometres; it’s no big deal.”

US Teacher: “I’m not letting them just walk off alone! They’re too young. Someone needs to come get them.”

Me: *To the students.* “Pack your things and head home like normal, please.”

The class immediately stands, relieved.

US Teacher: “Hey! What are you doing?! They can’t just leave!”

Me: “This is normal here. Most of them walk home every day.”

US Teacher: “It’s unsafe!”

Me: “They walk to school every morning. Alone. Keeping them here longer actually makes it less safe; it’ll get dark, and then they’ll be walking home in the evening.”

US Teacher: “This would never happen in American schools!”

Me: “Ah, yes… because American schools are known worldwide for their safety…”

In first grade, my teacher was reading a book about dolphins to the class. She was ad-libbing as she read and made a comment about dolphins being fish.

My hand shot up.

Me: “Mrs. [Name], dolphins are mammals!”

She sighed heavily.

Teacher: “No, they’re fish.”

Me: “They’re mammals!”

This went back and forth for a while before she finally told me to just be quiet.

I went home fuming. I tearfully told my mom that my teacher was wrong, spreading misinformation!

The next day, my teacher hurried up to me, bent over, and whispered barely audibly in my ear that she learned that dolphins were mammals, and she was sorry.

I again told my mom when I got home.

My Mom: “Well, that’s good that she apologized, right?”

Me: *Furious.* “NO! All the other kids still think dolphins are FISH!”

CONTENT WARNING: Gross (Roaches)

When my brother was younger, he used to get strange rashes during the school year. My mom didn’t think anything of it at first, just getting salves and ointments at the drug store to treat the rashes. One day, when he was in second grade, my mom went to drop him off at his classroom only to see another little boy putting what looked like tiny brown things into a box. When the little boy went to scoot past my mom, she stopped him.

Mom: “What do you have there?”

Boy: “I’m taking out the bugs!”

Mom: “The bugs? Can I see them?”

The boy showed my mother the inside of the box, which turned out to be almost half-full of cockroaches.

Mom: “Can I have that, honey? I’ll take the bugs out for you.”

Boy: “Okay!”

The boy handed my mother the box of cockroaches, and she watched my brother add his jacket and lunch box to the growing pile caused by kids not putting their things in their cubby holes. She moved to the teacher’s desk and found that the class had a substitute she was on friendly terms with.

Mom: “I’m sorry, are these what I think they are?”

She showed the substitute, who looked into the box and nodded.

Substitute: “Yep, those are roaches. You want me to call the office right now?”

Mom: “No, I’ll show them myself.”

My mother then marched herself to the main office. The secretaries immediately asked her what was in the box only to be startled and jump away from her when she showed them the roaches. Unfortunately, the principal wasn’t in, and the vice principal was doing her rounds, but my mother said it was fine and patiently waited in a chair with a box of roaches on her lap.

The second the vice principal walked in, one of the secretaries literally jumped up to attention and announced that my mother was there to see her. The vice principal invited my mother into her office.

Vice Principal: “What did you want to speak with me about, Mrs. [Mom’s Last Name]?”

Mom set the box of cockroaches on the desk.

Mom: “Were you aware of the cockroach issues in the second-grade classrooms?

The vice principal looked into the box, and her face went pale.

Vice Principal: “Oh, my God!”

She immediately grabbed the phone and called the head custodian, who came to the office.

Vice Principal: “Were you aware we had a roach problem in the classrooms?”

Head Custodian: “Yes, ma’am, I was.”

Vice Principal: “And did you make a report of this? Is [Principal] aware of this?”

Head Custodian: “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

Vice Principal: “What’s being done about this?”

Head Custodian: *Shrugs*

The vice principal and my mother were both furious. While the vice principal tried to get a hold of exterminators, she also gave my mom the phone numbers for some people higher up in the school district so she could make more formal complaints about the school not handling the situation properly. They ended up having to fumigate the school during a school break due to the chemicals involved being harmful.

The rashes my brother was getting? Turns out he’s allergic to cockroaches.

When I was teaching third grade, I had a student who struggled with reading. This was back in the olden days, when it was unusual for an eight-year-old to be functionally illiterate. She was particularly quiet and hesitant in class, and when I talked to her, I realized why: previous teachers had somehow convinced her she wasn’t very bright. I could see how [Student] had flown under the radar; she was, after all, a very quiet and well-behaved child, and I’m sure her previous teachers had matters and students and behaviors that seemed more pressing. But I liked to check in with my students individually when able to, and after one conversation with [Student], I could tell that she was incredibly intelligent. The way she thought things over and the way she was able to make many logical connections in her head was like some of my more typically intelligent students.

One day, during a semi-private conversation, [Student] opened up to me in frustration. The way she ranted to me all made sense, but something about the way she spoke about reading seemed off.

Me: “[Student], have you ever had your eyes checked?”

Student: “No, I haven’t.”

I’m sure she must have done it in kindergarten, but the state I was teaching in at the time only mandated eye tests in kindergarten, and I’d heard of children falling through the cracks. I encouraged her to ask her parents about getting her vision checked. From the sound of it, they were a bit reluctant, but to their credit, they followed through.

The next week, [Student] burst into class with a huge grin on her face.

Student: “During the eye test, I could see clearly for the first time!”

It turned out that I was correct. [Student] had horrible vision. Apparently, her vision was so poor that the new glasses she got the following week were only half of the prescription needed to fully correct her vision, and she would get the full prescription in a few months, so as not to overwhelm her brain with the sudden clarity!

Within days of getting her first pair of glasses, [Student] was practically a different child. She was more outgoing and confident, engaging with her classmates, raising her hand to answer questions, and even laughing more.

I have never forgotten this incident, but I thought to share it here after getting an email from [Student] a few days ago with a PDF attached. It was a scientific paper she had written in grad school, which was in very technical jargon that I couldn’t understand, but she also thanked me for seeing the intelligence in her when everyone else had dismissed her.

This story is part of our Highest-Voted-Inspirational-Stories-Of-2025 roundup!

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I am a therapy dog handler, and my canine partner and I volunteer at a couple of local schools.

Baldur, if I may be permitted to brag, is a stunning eighty-pound German shepherd with a magnificent black and red coat. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone wants to take a picture of him, and I’m used to him getting a lot of attention when we go out.

One of the schools in town is designated as a sort of conduit for the children from recently arrived immigrant families who do not speak much English yet. They improve their language skills with bilingual teachers, and they are mainstreamed into other district schools when they’re ready. 

We started there last fall, and after the first session was over, the two of us began walking across the playground to where I had parked my car.

The playground was teeming with kindergartners, and as we passed, they parted like the Red Sea in front of Charlton Heston, all of them bouncing up and down, pointing and chattering in Spanish — a language I do not speak. Their excitement was palpable, and I admit that I was basking a bit in Baldur’s reflected glory — although it was unusual that none of them were running up to pet him.

It wasn’t until the next week that one of the teachers pulled me aside and informed me that the children thought they were seeing a wolf.

Related:
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When They Only Like You For Your Dog
Swoop And Squat And SCURRY AWAY!
It’s Not Baldur’s Fault He Has No Thumbs!