In the crowd at Metife Stadium, standing three rows behind Margaret Sullivan is a young woman named Emma Chen. Emma is 27 years old. She’s been a high school English teacher for three years. She’s here because she saw a post on social media. Anyone who had Miss Sullivan for English at Lincoln High School.

 She’s going to the Taylor Swift concert at Metife on Saturday. Section 114. Let’s surprise her. 23 former students showed up. They’re all here scattered throughout section 114 surrounding the woman who taught them. The woman who changed how they saw poetry. Emma was in Miss Sullivan’s class in 2009. She was 15 years old and hated English class until the day Miss Sullivan taught a Taylor Swift song as poetry.

 Suddenly, poetry made sense. If Emma could understand the metaphors in a Taylor Swift song, she could understand the metaphors in Emily Dickinson. If she could analyze the narrative structure of a Taylor Swift song, she could analyze the structure of any story. Miss Sullivan didn’t just teach songs. She taught Emma how to read critically, how to see deeper meanings, how to appreciate language, and now Emma is a teacher herself.

 And yes, she teaches Taylor Swift lyrics in her poetry classes because Miss Sullivan showed her that it worked. Tonight, 23 former students have a plan. They each have a sign, different messages, but all connected. Thank you for teaching us poetry through Taylor Swift, class of 2011. You taught me that poetry is everywhere. your student, Marcus.

Because of you, I became an English teacher. Emma, they’re waiting for the right moment. When Miss Sullivan holds up her sign, they’ll all hold up theirs. They’ll show her and Taylor that what she did mattered. That 15 years of teaching Taylor Swift’s lyrics as literature created a ripple effect. Students who became teachers, students who became writers, students who learned to love language because one teacher believed that poetry could exist in pop songs. The concert begins.

 The music is incredible. And then during All Too Well, Miss Sullivan holds up her sign. I taught your lyrics as poetry for 15 years. Taylor sees it. Stop singing. And that’s when 23 former students stand up and hold up their signs, too. But to a teacher who changed lives. And when Taylor sees all of those signs, when she realizes that this isn’t just one teacher, but an entire generation of students whose lives were changed through her words, she does something unforgettable.

 She brings Miss Sullivan on stage and she says, “You didn’t just teach my lyrics. You taught me that what I do matters beyond the music. Thank you.” 3 weeks earlier, Emma Chen was scrolling through Facebook when she saw a post in the Lincoln High School alumni group. The post was from Marcus Rodriguez, class of 2013. Just got tickets to Taylor Swift at MetLife, section 114, row six.

 Anyone else going? Emma commented, “I’ll be there.” Section 114, row 9. Then another former student commented, and another. By the end of the day, they had discovered that 12 former Lincoln High School students would be at the same Taylor Swift concert, all in section 114. And they all had one person in common. Miss Margaret Sullivan, their former English teacher. Wait, Marcus posted.

 Is Miss Sullivan still alive? Does anyone know? Emma did know. She’d stayed in touch with Miss Sullivan over the years. She’s alive and well. Retired 2 years ago. Still lives in Montlair. Does she like Taylor Swift? Someone asked. Emma laughed out loud at her phone. Like her? She taught Taylor Swift lyrics as poetry for 15 years.

 She probably knows Taylor’s music better than we do. The thread exploded with memories. Oh my god, I remember that. We analyzed love story like it was Shakespeare. She made us write essays comparing Taylor Swift to Robert Frost. I got an A on a paper about metaphor and all too well. She was the reason I didn’t hate English class.

Emma had an idea. What if Miss Sullivan is going to this concert? Let me text her. She pulled out her phone and texted, “Hey, Miss Sullivan, are you going to the Taylor Swift concert at Metife on November 16th?” The response came back immediately. Emma, yes, I am. Section 114, row three. Can you believe I finally splurged on good seats? Emma’s heart started racing.

 She screenshot the text and posted it in the Facebook group. She’s going. She’s in our section. Row three. Marcus responded, “We should do something. We should surprise her. Show her how much she meant to us.” The planning began immediately. Over the next 3 weeks, 23 former students coordinated. Some had to fly in from other states.

 Some had to buy tickets at inflated prices just to be in section 114. They created a group chat called Operation Thank You Miss Sullivan. Each person made a sign, personal messages thanking Miss Sullivan for teaching them, for changing how they saw literature, for showing them that poetry could be everywhere.

 Emma’s sign said, “Because of you, I became an English teacher.” Emma, class of 2009. Marcus’ sign said, “You taught me poetry isn’t boring.” Marcus, class of 2013. There were signs from students who had gone on to become writers, teachers, librarians, all because Miss Sullivan had sparked something in them. The plan was simple.

 Miss Sullivan would be in row three. They would scatter throughout section 114 in rows 5 through 12. When Miss Sullivan held up her sign, Emma had encouraged her to make one. They would all stand up and hold up their signs at the same time. But what if Taylor doesn’t see Miss Sullivan’s sign? Someone asked in the group chat. She will,” Emma said with confidence.

 Miss Sullivan has front row seats, and you know Miss Sullivan, she’s not shy. She’ll make sure Taylor sees it. Now, on the night of the concert, Emma stands in row 9, her sign rolled up carefully, her heart pounding around her, scattered throughout section 11:14, are 22 other former students. They’re all in position. They’re all waiting.

 In row three, unaware of what’s about to happen, sits Margaret Sullivan. Maggie, as her friends call her, is 74 years old. She retired from Lincoln High School two years ago after 40 years of teaching English. She’s wearing a Taylor Swift t-shirt from the Fearless era. Her students gave it to her as a retirement gift.

 Her sign is propped against her seat. Ready? I taught your lyrics as poetry for 15 years. Maggie doesn’t know that 23 of her former students are here. She doesn’t know they’ve planned a surprise. She’s just here to enjoy the concert and maybe, just maybe, get Taylor Swift’s attention for a brief moment. The concert begins. Taylor appears on stage to deafening screams.

Maggie screams, too. She’s not embarrassed. At 74, she’s beyond caring what people think. Song after song, the concert is incredible. Taylor’s stage presence, her connection with the audience, the sheer artistry of the performance. It’s everything Maggie has been telling her students about for 15 years.

 This is why these songs work as poetry, because they’re performed with this much heart. During a break between songs, Maggie picks up her sign. Now or never, she tells herself. She holds it up. I taught your lyrics as poetry for 15 years. In row nine, Emma sees it. Now she texts the group chat. 23 former students stand up simultaneously.

 23 signs go up at the same time. Section 114 suddenly transforms into a sea of messages, all connected, all thanking the same teacher. Taylor Swift is starting all too well 10-minute version when she notices the commotion in section 114. At first, she just sees one sign, an elderly woman holding I taught your lyrics as poetry for 15 years.

Taylor stops singing. She’s done this before. Stop mid song when something in the audience catches her attention. The band continues for a moment, then stops. 65,000 people go quiet. Wait, Taylor says. Section 114. What’s happening? That’s when she sees them. Not just one sign. 23 signs.

 All different messages, but all clearly connected. Taylor walks to the edge of the stage trying to read them. I taught your lyrics as poetry for 15 years. Thank you for teaching poetry through Taylor Swift, class of 2011. You showed me poetry is everywhere. Because of you, I became an English teacher. You made me love literature.

 Your student forever. Taylor’s hand goes to her mouth. She’s trying to process what she’s seeing. Ma’am, she says, addressing Maggie in row three. You’re the teacher. Maggie nods, already crying. Yes, I taught English at Lincoln High School. I used your songs in my poetry classes for 15 years. And all these people, Taylor gestures to the other signs.

 Emma calls out, “We’re her students. She changed our lives.” Taylor looks overwhelmed. “You’re all her students.” “Yes,” they shout in unison. Marcus yells, “She’s the best teacher we ever had.” Another voice, “She taught us that your words are literature.” Another, “She made us love poetry.” Taylor is openly crying now. “What’s your name?” she asks. Maggie.

 Margaret Sullivan. Everyone calls me Maggie. Maggie, I need you to come up here, and I need all of your students to come to the front. Security, can we make that happen? The next few minutes are chaos as security helps Maggie onto the stage and guides 23 former students to the front row. When Maggie stands on stage next to Taylor Swift in front of 65,000 people, she can’t quite believe it’s real. Taylor addresses the crowd.

Everyone, this is Maggie Sullivan. She taught English for 40 years. And for 15 of those years, she did something incredible. She taught my song lyrics as poetry, like actual poetry classes, literary analysis, essays, the whole thing. The stadium erupts in applause. But it gets better. Taylor continues. All these people down here, they’re her former students. They all had her class.

They all learned poetry through my music. And they all came here tonight to surprise her and say thank you. Maggie is sobbing. She looks down at section 114 now filled with her former students standing in a group holding their signs. I had no idea. She manages to say, “I had no idea you were all here.

” Emma shouts. We love you, Miss Sullivan. The entire section takes up the chant. Miss Sullivan. Miss Sullivan. Taylor lets the moment happen, then gently asks, “Maggie, can you tell everyone how this started? How did you decide to teach my lyrics? Maggie takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

 It was 2009,” she begins. I’d been teaching for about 30 years. I was doing a unit on metaphor and imagery using Robert Frost. My students were bored. Then one of my students asked if we could study something modern, something they actually listened to. Someone suggested your music. At first, I was skeptical. I thought that’s not real poetry.

 But I looked at the lyrics to some of your early songs and I saw it. Real literary devices, metaphor, symbolism, narrative structure. Everything I’d been trying to teach was already there. So I tried it. We analyzed love story the same way we’d analyze a Shakespeare sonnet. And something magical happened.

 My students got it. Students who’d hated poetry suddenly understood it because they could see it in music they already loved. Maggie’s voice grows stronger. Over the next 15 years, I taught your lyrics alongside Dickinson and Frost and Maya Angelou. I had students write essays comparing your work to classical poets.

 Some of my colleagues thought I was lowering standards, but I wasn’t. I was showing students that poetry isn’t locked in the past. It’s alive. It’s everywhere. It’s in the music they love. Taylor is crying harder now. How many students did you teach this way? Over a thousand, maybe 1500. Every sophomore English class for 15 years.

 And some of them are here tonight. Maggie looks at her former students. 23 of them apparently, which I just found out 5 minutes ago. Taylor laughs through her tears. This is incredible. Maggie, can I ask you something? What did you teach them about my lyrics specifically? Like, what did you see in them? Maggie thinks for a moment.

 I taught them that your lyrics work as poetry because you understand the fundamentals. Show don’t tell specific detail, emotional truth. In all too well, you don’t say, “I’m sad about this breakup.” You say, “I’m a crumpled up piece of paper lying here.” That’s poetry. That’s showing emotion through image.

 In Love Story, you take a classic narrative, Romeo and Juliet, and reimagine it with a happy ending. That’s literary reimagining. That’s what poets do. In Blank Space, you use satire and persona. You’re not writing as yourself. You’re writing as a character. That’s dramatic monologue, a classical poetry technique. She looks directly at Taylor.

I taught them that what you do isn’t just pop music. It’s literature. It’s poetry. And it deserves to be studied and appreciated as such. The stadium is completely silent except for the sound of 65,000 people crying. Taylor walks over and hugs Maggie tightly. “Thank you,” Taylor whispers. “Thank you for seeing value in my words.

 Thank you for teaching students that what I do matters. Thank you for making my lyrics into literature.” She pulls back and addresses the crowd. Do you understand what this means? For 15 years, Maggie taught over a thousand students that my words were worth studying. She gave me academic credibility before I even knew I needed it.

 She told teenagers that my music was real art. And look at the result. 23 of her students are here tonight to thank her. Taylor turns to the group of students in the front. Can some of you come up here? I want to hear from you. Emma is pushed forward by the group. She climbs onto the stage shaking. Hi, Emma says, “I’m Emma Chen. I was in Miss Sullivan’s class in 2009.

I was 15 and I hated English. I thought poetry was boring. Then Miss Sullivan taught us love story as poetry and everything changed. I understood it. And if I could understand Taylor Swift, I could understand everything else. She looks at Maggie. Because of you, I became an English teacher. I teach at a school in Queens.

 And yes, I teach Taylor Swift lyrics to my students because you showed me it works. Marcus comes up next. I’m Marcus Rodriguez, class of 2013. I failed English freshman year. Then I got to Miss Sullivan’s class. She was teaching Mean by Taylor Swift. We analyzed the lyrics about bullying and resilience. I wrote a paper about it.

 First day I ever got in English. That paper made me think I could write. Now I’m a journalist. All because Miss Sullivan believed Taylor Swift’s lyrics were worth teaching. One by one, students come up. There’s a librarian who fell in love with literature through Miss Sullivan’s class, a college professor who now teaches a class on contemporary poetry and includes Taylor Swift, a published poet who says Miss Sullivan taught her that poetry can be accessible and still be art.

 Each story is the same essential message. Maggie Sullivan changed their lives by showing them that poetry exists in unexpected places. By the end, everyone on stage is crying, including Taylor. Maggie Taylor says, “I want to do something for you. I’m starting an education initiative, the Sullivan Initiative. It’ll provide curriculum and resources for teachers who want to use contemporary music to teach poetry and literature because what you did for 15 years should be happening in every school.” Maggie is overwhelmed.

 You do that. You’ve already done it. You’ve proven it works. Now, let’s help other teachers do the same thing. Taylor addresses the crowd one more time. This is Maggie Sullivan and 23 of her students. For 15 years, Maggie taught that my lyrics were poetry. And now 15 years later, her students came back to say thank you.

 This is what teaching looks like. This is the impact one person can have. She signals to the band. Maggie, what’s your favorite song? All Too Well, the 10-minute version. Then let’s sing it together. You, me, and all your students. What follows is unlike any concert performance Taylor has ever done. She sings All Too Well, 10-minute version with a 74year-old English teacher and 23 former students on stage with her.

 Maggie knows every word. So do all her students because she taught them this song. She taught them every metaphor, every image, every literary device. And now they’re singing it with the woman who wrote it. When the song ends, the stadium gives them a standing ovation that lasts for 7 minutes. Taylor keeps Maggie and her students on stage for three more songs.

They dance together, sing together, celebrate together. At the end, Taylor gives Maggie a framed copy of All Too Well lyrics with a personal note to Maggie Sullivan, who taught a generation that my words matter. You made me a poet. Thank you, Taylor. After the concert backstage, Maggie is surrounded by her former students.

 They’re all crying, hugging, taking pictures. I can’t believe you all did this. Maggie keeps saying, “I can’t believe you all came.” Miss Sullivan, Emma says, “You changed our lives. Of course we came. You taught us more than poetry.” Marcus adds, “You taught us that art can be everywhere. that we don’t have to wait for permission to call something literature.

 That if something moves us, it matters. A young woman named Sarah, class of 2016, says, “I was going through terrible depression when I was in your class. You taught us Shake It Off, and we analyzed it as a poem about resilience. That song got me through the worst year of my life because you showed me it wasn’t just a pop song.

 It was a message. It was art. It was important.” Maggie hugs each of her students. I just wanted you to love literature. I wanted you to see that poetry wasn’t dead. It’s alive in the music you listen to every day. You succeeded. They tell her. Look at us teachers, writers, poets, journalists. You created this.

 Taylor Swift joins them. Maggie, I meant what I said about the initiative. I want to make this happen. Will you help me develop the curriculum? Me? I’m retired. Retired doesn’t mean done. You’ve spent 40 years perfecting this. We need your expertise. Over the next 6 months, Maggie works with Taylor’s team to develop the Sullivan Initiative.

 It provides free curriculum guides for teachers who want to use contemporary music to teach poetry. It includes lesson plans, discussion questions, essay prompts, and literary analysis frameworks. The initiative partners with schools across the country. Thousands of teachers download the materials. English classrooms start teaching Taylor Swift alongside Shakespeare.

 And it works just like it worked in Maggie’s classroom. Students who hate poetry suddenly understand it. Students who can’t relate to romantic poets connect with contemporary lyrics. Test scores improve, engagement improves, love of literature improves because Maggie proved what educators have known for years.

 Students learn better when they can connect the material to their lives. 2 years after the concert, Maggie is invited to speak at a national education conference. She’s 76 now, but she still has that teacher energy. She tells the story of that night at Metife Stadium. She talks about the Sullivan initiative. She encourages teachers to be brave, to try new things, to meet students where they are.

 For 15 years, I used Taylor Swift lyrics in my classroom, she says. Some people criticized me. They said I was lowering standards, but I wasn’t. I was raising engagement. I was showing students that the skills we teach, analysis, interpretation, close reading, they apply everywhere, not just to dusty textbooks, but to the music they love.

And the result, 23 former students surprised me at a concert. Many of them became teachers themselves. They’re out there right now teaching the next generation that poetry is alive. She pauses. That’s what teaching is. You plant seeds, you don’t always see them grow, but sometimes, if you’re very lucky, 15 years later, those seeds become a forest, and your students come back to say thank you.

 The education conference gives her a standing ovation. Maggie Sullivan becomes a small celebrity in education circles. She’s interviewed for teaching journals. She gives workshops on using contemporary music in English classes, but she doesn’t do it for fame. She does it for the same reason she spent 40 years teaching, because she believes that literature matters.

 that poetry matters and that students deserve teachers who meet them where they are. At one workshop, a young teacher asks, “What made you decide to take the risk to teach pop music as poetry?” Maggie thinks about it. I realize that my job isn’t to gatekeep literature. It’s to open doors. If I tell students that poetry only exists in certain approved texts, I’m teaching them that art is exclusive.

 But if I show them that poetry is in the music they already love, I’m teaching them that art is everywhere, they’re more likely to seek it out, create it themselves, and appreciate it in all its forms. Also, she adds with a smile, “Taylor Swift is genuinely a good poet. I wasn’t compromising quality. I was expanding the cannon.

” Years later, when Maggie Sullivan dies at the age of 82, her funeral is attended by hundreds of former students. Emma Chen, now a school principal, gives the eulogy. Miss Sullivan taught us many things. Emma says, “She taught us metaphor and symbolism. She taught us close reading and analysis, but most importantly, she taught us that poetry isn’t locked away in the past. It’s alive.

 It’s in our world. It’s in our music. It’s in our lives.” She took a risk by teaching Taylor Swift lyrics as poetry. Some people didn’t understand, but she didn’t care what critics thought. She cared about reaching her students, and she did. She reached all of us. We’re teachers now, writers now, because Miss Sullivan showed us that our voices matter. That the art we love matters.

That we don’t have to wait for permission to call something beautiful. At the funeral, they play Taylor Swift’s long live. Because it was one of Miss Sullivan’s favorite songs to teach. A song about making memories, about triumph, about moments that matter. And as the music plays, hundreds of former students remember the teacher who changed their lives by believing that poetry could exist anywhere, even in pop songs.

 The Sullivan Initiative continues. It’s now used in schools across America and in 12 other countries. Every year, the initiative gives the Maggie Sullivan Award to a teacher who innovatively connects students with literature through contemporary culture. And every year, on the anniversary of that night at Metife Stadium, former students post on social media using thank you, Miss Sullivan, sharing how she changed their lives.

Because Margaret Sullivan proved something important, teachers live forever through their students. She taught for 40 years. She directly taught about 3,000 students. But through the Sullivan Initiative and through her students who became teachers themselves, she indirectly influenced hundreds of thousands more.

 All because she believed that a teenage girl writing songs in her bedroom was creating poetry. All because she saw value where others saw just pop music. All because she was brave enough to say, “These lyrics are literature and I’m going to teach them.” Maggie Sullivan never became famous. She never made much money.

 She spent 40 years in a classroom doing the quiet essential work of teaching. But she changed the world one student at a time, one song at a time, one analysis at a time. She taught them that Taylor Swift’s lyrics were poetry. And in doing so, she taught them something more important. That art exists everywhere. That their voices matter.

 And that they have permission to call beautiful things beautiful. That’s what teachers do. They give permission. They open doors. They change lives. And sometimes, if they’re very lucky, their students come back 15 years later to say thank you. The end. I taught your lyrics as poetry for 15 years. and I taught a generation that my words matter.

 Thank you.