This is a shoutout to all the English teachers I had in high school. If it weren't for them, I probably would have no idea what I want to do with my life at the moment. I can't say that I liked them every day, but with them, I was able to discover my love of literature even more than I knew was possible and develop my current writing skills

The English teacher I had from my freshman and senior year was Diane Mercer. I wasn't too particularly interested in the class, to be honest. I hardly put an ounce of effort into that class. I was finishing up her worksheets on the bus ride to school, writing papers the night before, and barely reviewing for a test. I skated by on that mostly until she read the paper worth the most of my grade. The page was practically dripping with ink from her comments. It was clear that all my mediocre work in her class didn't escape her. She knew all along that I wasn't applying myself enough and she tore into me for it.

My sophomore year, my teacher was Amanda Thrun. She ran the journalism program at my school. A lot of good times in this class came from the numerous fellow band members that sat beside me. This class had a huge comedic atmosphere about it. The class would say the dumbest, yet funniest, things that would cause Thrun to rapidly blink her eyes at them with her hands held to her hips. The discussion style of this class contrasted the lecture style of my freshman year and made me more involved and thoughtful with my reading. Plus I enjoyed the class in general because of the environment too.

My junior year I doubled on English which meant two different English teachers — Daniel McEvilly and Cara Lane. The personalities of these two teachers brought a life to English that finally made me decide on an English major. Lane would occasionally play Parks and Recreations in class and just brought joy to the class. I had known her before taking this class and she is just a great person who really cares about her students. McEvilly's classes were my favorite. They were strictly electives, but I wanted to be in them so badly I worked two English classes into my schedule. I absolutely loved everything we read and the way he thought about literature and the way we discussed these ideas. They made me fall in love with the English major.

Back with Mercer again, I was not quite sure what to expect. I didn't entirely remember her too well from freshman year. I did remember her reputation for being a hard teacher though and also of this class being particularly challenging. A lot of what we read I didn't like and the papers, major works data sheets, and essay tests reaching pages long as everyone frantically types away trying to finish the test within less than an hour started to get to me. I did not enjoy English as much as I used to. I began to question majoring in English. Until we were reading my favorite book in the class and I realized that I just didn't like some of the material we read and I just need to find the section of English that interests me.

So to all my past, present, and future-to-be English teachers, I owe you one.