“Teacher’s Pet” has traditionally been the name given to students who “kiss up” to teachers in order to receive better grades. For the majority of my life, my peers have referred to me as such, though I’ve never been able to understand why. Friends, classmates, and students who’ve never even been in class with me, they’ve all strung together those two words to describe me. My difficulties in understanding this “identity” are centered on my inability to come to terms with the reason my behavior has earned me this title. Why does it matter that I’ve always been able to connect better with teachers and adults than with my peers? Why is it that seeking guidance from more knowledgeable individuals, with more life experience is looked upon in a negative manner? I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. Not yet, at least.
The truth of the matter is that I often have trouble connecting to teenagers on a personal level. I'm not sure why that is the case but it has, for the most part, been a fact that many of my friendships with peers have been rather short-lived. However, throughout high school, many of my most enduring relationships have been with people that have anywhere from ten to forty years on me. I wouldn’t consider a single one of these relationships inappropriate yet I have still felt judged by society due to those friendships.
Some of my teachers have become heroes, best friends, and role models. The stories, lives, and lessons they’ve shared will stay with me forever. Sophomore year, I had a teacher who changed my life. He gave me the courage to discover who I really am. This man was not only my teacher but he also became my mentor, my friend, and something of a second father. He is the reason I decided to pick up a guitar and the man who encouraged me to keep trying even when I wanted to give up. He listened to me, I listened to him. He was there for me whenever I needed him and he always knew how to put a smile on my face.
I had a very difficult last two weeks in school. The night of graduation, as I anxiously waited to hear my name called to get up on stage to receive my diploma, I looked to my right and saw his smile. I knew he was proud of me. In that moment, I felt something within me change. My anxiety was overwhelming that day. I was worried that a lack of support would ruin my graduation experience for both my family and me. But as I looked over and saw his face, I felt that fear melt away. I felt indestructible.
With that smile, I flashed back to the moments we sat together in the practice rooms. Both of us laughing, guitars on our laps, right arms hung over the body of the guitar we each played. I knew that my time in high school was well spent. This friend gave me strength. Not just this once. But each day that I walked into class and moseyed over to his desk rather than my own. Each time we spoke about our high school experiences when I needed a friend to relate to. He made me feel as though I was no longer alone. I will never forget my teacher and musical mentor. Not because of what he taught me in the classroom or on guitar, but because of what he taught me about friendship.
For a long time, I didn’t have friends my own age, and while eventually that did change, I value the friendships I’ve had with teachers just as much as those that I now have with my peers. I can honestly say that my high school experience wouldn’t have been nearly as memorable had I not opened up to my teachers, gone early to classes, and spoken to teachers with the same respect and courtesy that I hoped to receive from them.
