I like odd facts; therefore, Social Studies became my favorite class by the time I reached third grade. I was a growing encyclopedia. But, I was a little--okay maybe more than a little--afraid of the middle school Social Studies teacher I heard stories about, and I did not even know him. 
Nervously tugging on my sleeve, I walked into my Social Studies class on the first day of sixth grade.  In the front of the room was a 5’2” man, grumbling about losing the attendance list. I sat at the back, setting down the materials I needed. Then with a sigh, I checked the setup of the classroom: a round table at the front, a set of worn old books on their self, and rows of desk neatly in place. I hoped I could just make it through the year.
Once everyone was settled, he began roll call. “Josiah? McKenna? Sara? Sarah? Oh man two Saras...”  And on he went, struggling with the pronunciation of last names. When he came to a familiar one, he stopped and told a story he remembered of an older sibling.
I said, “Here” when he finally called my name and then I corrected his pronunciation.
After he learned our names, he introduced himself as Mr. Gissen and went on to give information about his background. He taught out in New York. He was Jewish. He was short. (He made that second point his favorite to point out through the year--simply because he was proud.) His passion for who he was made me nervous since I did not have confidence.
Mr. Gissen went on to the lesson. But what was unique about his style of teaching was that he lectured, went off topic periodically (he tied it to the lesson eventually), and made us take our own notes. Mr. Gissen described his teaching style to be high school to college level with little structure, little homework, and little tolerance for obnoxious behavior. I was not used to this style of teaching and got scared. My parents, at conferences a few weeks later, made me confront him about that.  After that confrontation, Mr. Gissen was set on getting me out of my bubble. 
He got me to adjust to his teaching style by checking in with me after class every so often. “Makaila, how are you doing? Learn anything yet?” he would ask.
“I am doing good. Yes, I did learn something today,” I’d say, showing my notes to him. And I gained confidence each time I spoke to him. My bubble opened up a little more each day.
He got me to talk in front of class, something I hated to do. During one of my first presentations, he made a point to stop and tell me it was okay to nervous, but that I had to push through.
He said, “Try thinking of the audience in their whitie-tighties.” And eventually, I was able to present without my nerves getting ahold of me.  I really looked forward to class after he helped me conquer my fear.
He gave most of us nicknames: Almond Head, Rolls, Rolling Stones, Red Roof, and Ducky. Each nickname came with a reason. Ducky got his name because his last name was “Millard” and Mr. Gissen thought it sounded like “Mallard.” I got one after “yelling” at him (while he was handing back tests) about how I didn’t want to be called by my first name. He would not give me my test back until he thought of one. After some thought and debate,  Mickey Mantle was the one he gave me (though I changed the spelling to Micky): the best baseball player to the worst one. I started to come out of my bubble more after that.
One day without warning, the class got him off topic. Really off topic. We were in the middle of learning about King Henry VIII and his wives, when someone brought up toilets. Not knowing how or why, the class started to debate on the quality, types, and what Mr. Gissen wished he had. (That was not the only time we got him off topic on toilets.) As I listened to him, I realized he was a person who cared and had passion for teaching and who he is. His passion reminded me to  strive for my goals, and to deal with the roadblocks as they came along--this was one of the biggest lessons I learned from him.
Mr. Gissen is passionate about teaching like Cookie Monster is about eating cookies. He brought personal experiences into his teaching. During a lesson on religion, he told us about his trip to Indonesia. He sent his favorite silk shirt to be washed. But when it came back, it was ruined. He told us he yelled at the lady who brought his silk shirt back and all she said was “Karma.”  He told several stories over the time we had with him that all tied in with the lesson he taught.
One of the best times we had was when he let us reenact Ancient Greece. He divided the two classes in half (into four teams, two total), breaking up the cliques we were used to working in. We tore apart his classroom to create our “camps.”  Mr. Gissen handed out trials that challenged everyone to do their best. By the end of that month, everyone had memories that made them laugh for hours.
He retired halfway through our seventh grade year and was emotional about it (whether he will admit it or not). Granted, so were we. Mr. Gissen planned on taking us to a Lambeau Field tour as our end of the year field trip. We were excited when we heard and disappointed when we did not go with the new teacher.  But most of all, we were disappointed that we could not finish out our middle school years with him.
Before he left for good, he gave us each a five dollar gift card to Culver’s that read: “To: MY WONDERFUL SEVENTH GRADERS. You were wonderful in spite of the teacher. I will miss you all. From: Mr. Gissen--The bald one!” 
On the night of our eighth grade graduation, Mr. Gissen came and surprised us. It was just like he never left. The class joked around and had fun with our surprise guest.
Mr. Gissen’s personality is positive and upbeat. In class, he was able to show the respect we lacked from most teachers. I was able to open up to teaching styles that would normally have me hiding in a corner panicking. Mr. Gissen inspired me to take on challenges one by one; my fear of speaking now has me on my high school’s Forensics Speech team. Mr. Gissen, I cannot thank you enough. I am pleased to nominate you for for this award.