On Nov. 4, I watched as Barack Obama was elected president of the United States in a resounding victory.

I have spent more than a year living and teaching in Hawai'i, so far from my home on the Mainland. I am the proud — very, very proud — teacher of 74 students at Wai'anae High School. They are a bunch of fiercely persistent, inquisitive, lively and vigorous teenagers.

I left friends and family for the life of teaching and "making a difference" on this island. And, over the past year, my students have shown me that in many ways, I'm all that they have, too. In my class, we like to say that we're 'ohana. They trust me, and I love and take care of them.

In this 'ohana, much like in my own family growing up, there are high expectations. I have this belief that education is the great equalizer. That if we can hold true to our promise that every child receives an excellent education, we will see new generations of artists, inventors, athletes, politicians and, above all else, thinkers. This is what will make us a "more perfect union."

The only problem is, we don't hold our end of the bargain. The truth is, not every child in this country has access to a free and excellent education. In America, children born into poor, minority communities are often offered a set of circumstances far, far worse than what is available to wealthy, white students.

Students like my own, many of whom live in poverty, may be subject to uninterested and poorly qualified teachers, little technology, crumbling facilities and, quite frankly, the broad notion that "kids like them" will never make it.

In my 'ohana, this dangerous, poisonous idea — the one that says poor, encumbered kids will not succeed — doesn't fly. I fight day in and day out to reveal for my students the talent and potential I see in them. Because the naysayers have a point. Statistically speaking, many of my students will drop out of school, and thus reinvest themselves in the cycle of poverty. There are many terrifyingly legitimate concerns for their collective futures, not the least of which involves their public education beginning and ending with me. I take this burden to heart. And so, in my 'ohana, we say "yes, we can."

This is where this election becomes intensely, passionately personal. I'm a teacher, and I've taken on the responsibility of convincing my students that, despite historical institutional and societal barriers to their success, they can achieve anything they wish for. Sounds like the American Dream, doesn't it? It's funny how some kids are willing to blissfully accept it, and others suffer from the gnawing, rational fear that this dream doesn't apply to a poor kid from Hawai'i.

Oh, doesn't it?

For the past year, I've stood before 74 kids and preached a sermon about perseverance, responsibility and education. Together, my students and I have drawn on words from Martin Luther King, Sophocles, Cesar Chavez and Shakespeare. We've read, rehearsed and discussed models for success, as seen in literature and in history. And to my end, I've never felt satisfied that I've won every heart and mind in our 'ohana. Skeptical eyes roll and hardened hearts prevail in the real-life scenario of poverty, and there's nothing Sophocles can do about it.

On Nov. 4, I listened, breathlessly, as Barack Obama celebrated his victory. I happen to support his political agenda, and truly believe in the power of his stewardship. The tears that welled and spilled from my eyes, however, were not a measure of my intellectual agreement with the 44th president. Simply and profoundly, I felt overjoyed that I was looking at the penultimate model for my students' success. As Obama said, "If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where anything is possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer. It's been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, on this election, in this defining moment, change is coming to America."

These are the words I've been wanting to say to my students. I've had neither the historical example nor the agency to do so. And now, I'm elated because I realize that America has given my students what I alone can never give: proof that our country makes good on its promises. We still have a long way to go in guaranteeing that every child receives an excellent education. As of Nov. 4, 2008, however, we can say that any child — even a poor kid from Hawai'i — can become president of the United States.

Nikki Davenport teaches English at Wai'anae High School in conjunction with Teach for America. She wrote this commentary for The Advertiser.