Remember that day when I was too afraid to speak up in class and I was stumbling all over my words as I said them? I felt like everyone was laughing at me under their breaths, but you stopped me, and reminded me it was OK to say what I wanted, and not to be afraid of what I had to say. You said I shouldn’t be afraid because I was brilliant and I went home and cried that day because no one, other than my parents, had really ever told me that. And of all the encouragement I’ve gotten in college, I still remember that the most.
I’m really outgoing now and my confidence actually gets me in trouble sometimes. I’ve been told I’m too strong-willed and that I’m known for being loud about my beliefs. I didn’t do this in high school. Even at graduation, I was always too nervous to talk to people or initiate conversation. Now, I’m usually the one who talks first.
I genuinely wish my younger brother would have gotten your class for tenth grade English, because I remember what your classes did for me. In tenth grade, I didn’t think I was any good at writing. In fact, until high school, I was miserable at grammar and spelling and it was my least favorite subject. Then, the first day of tenth grade, you told us to get out a pencil and paper, and just write whatever we wanted. You went through them in front of the whole class and then you stopped and read one out loud: Mine. You said to see you after class and told me my writing was good. This was something I had never heard before and never really considered.
I’m an English and Creative Writing double major now and my whole life revolves around writing. I write articles, stories, memoirs, literary analysis and poetry. My concentration is poetry. I love it more than I love any other part of my life. I’ve just finished the transcript of my first chapbook. I’m going to be a published poet by the end of the year. If you would have told me at 15 that I would be centering my life around poetry, I would have called you crazy. I hated poetry back then; it was pretentious and unavailable to me. And that made it boring.
But you encouraged my writing. My teacher in eleventh grade didn’t really make me want to write and didn’t encourage it in the way your classes did. And that made me want to be more confident and to want to write more, and to continue to improve. Honestly, because of you, I found this passion for writing that was never there before. And that’s why I’m so torn as to what to do with my future.
Do I pursue my love of writing and continue into a MFA program and maybe into a doctorate program and become a professor? And hope I can get a job at a college with a small class size? Or do I attempt to do what you do? Do I take on this more stressful job with lower pay because I may make a difference? I keep wanting to do that. If I could simply encourage one kid enough so they become confident and outgoing rather than shy, and if I could simply help them find a passion, just for one kid, I think that would be enough.
So thank you for it all, for the encouragement and the harsh grading. Thank you for teaching me how to push through books I hated (I’m sorry, "Catcher In the Rye" isn’t that great), and how to understand why I liked the books I loved. And above all, thank you for showing me my talent as a writer and encouraging me to learn to love writing. And thank you for being a high school English teacher.
