After years and years of school, everyone has an array of memories imprinted on their existence: the good, the bad, the embarrassing. The first day of kindergarten, the seventh grade spring fling and high school graduation are just a few to leave their mark. However, when asked, everyone can name their favorite teacher. A teacher that has the ability to captivate his students through a simple discussion, a teacher who gives the "smart-ass" of the class a run for his money, causing an uproar of laughter, a teacher whose passion seeps through his pores, eminating to those near. A teacher that sees his students' ambitions, hopes, dreams and talents and develops them to their fullest potential. To you, I say thank you.
To the teacher I will never forget:
At the time, I had absolutely no idea that you, my seventh grade Language Arts teacher, would influence me so greatly. I distinctively remember questioning your teaching methods, while concurrently rolling my eyes. Your work load was unorthodox and unheard of at that level. You set your expectations high, and naturally, I was determined to meet them. I blindly followed instruction, rewriting papers, summarizing readings, and practicing grammar exercises. I found resentment in the myriad of tedious tasks that I was convinced burdened my then "social" life.
It took me a lot of time, but I finally understand. You set your expectations in accordance with my potential. Your lesson plans were framed around your students' ambitions. You didn't assign anything I couldn't handle. My constant writing and rewriting and editing and proofreading was a boot camp that I didn't sign up for, but desperately needed. In turn, you taught me how to accept rejection gracefully, how to critically analyze text, but most importantly: how to write with my head and my heart. My love of writing has only grown. With time I've realized that the head and the heart are two entities that are guided by those they encounter. They reflect the actions they receive. They are molded by the touch of the beloved. If guided by both, their product can't be flawed.
So, thank you. Thank you for showing me the power of words; for teaching me that only when words are perfectly positioned they then may reflect a glimpse of the mind, a figment of an imagination, a piece of the heart. A word, a phrase, a sentence: they have the power to create and destroy. They have the power to create a movement and change the world. The accumulation of ideas that are weaved by the brilliant and positioned by the divine. A power only given to those who’s minds may reflect their potential; their ability to inspire. To inspire those whose ambitions blind them, remove them from reality and drown them in hope. An ambition to attain this level of knowledge, brilliance, wisdom.
Thank you for pushing my intellectual boundaries. You saw something in me that others had failed to notice. You turned my flaws into my biggest assets, my doubts into beliefs, and my dreams into plans. You saw my ambition sitting in the corner and you asked it to dance. You gave it the means to prosper.
Forever indebted,
Your faithful student
