I went to a great high school. Unlike the torturous and brutal schools that are shown on TV and in movies, my school was a pretty cool place. The students were supportive and friendly. After school activities were important, and everyone signed up for as many clubs and teams as they could handle. The school buzzed with spirit. One of the best parts of my school were the teachers. I had supportive teachers that worked incredibly hard to help me be successful. They stayed after school with me when I needed help in class. They snuck me a piece of chocolate when I was having a bad day. They helped me apply for college, and even helped to answer ‘dumb’ questions about the real world, like “How much should I tip my hairdresser?” My teachers were amazing, and they made school worth going. Except for one.

In my senior year of high school, I had to take a class that was mandated for me to graduate. It wasn’t one that I would’ve chosen on my own, but I had the best intentions going into it. I was going to work hard, and I was going to pass it with an A no matter what.

On the first day, it was made clear right away that I probably wasn’t going to do well in the class. I’d ask questions, and the teacher would say, “How could you possibly have questions? If you don’t get it, just sit there and try to follow along.”

I was shocked. I had never had a teacher take that approach. Before, teachers had always been more than willing to answer my questions. My new teacher’s statement on asking questions left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. However, I sat there and tried my best to follow along, a lump of frustration in my throat.

The class was small, no more that twelve or thirteen. As the days went by, it was clear which students knew what they were doing, and which students were doomed. I, luckily, fell somewhere in the middle. I didn’t easily understand what my task was, but if I took my time, I could sneak by with a mediocre-- but finished-- product. However, I didn’t do this with much help from my teacher… He helped the kids that he easily connected with, the one’s that already knew what they were doing.

Four out of five classes a week, I left with tears in my eyes. My teacher didn’t answer questions. When I asked, I was met with “What don’t you get about this? It’s so easy.” I was frustrated. Couldn’t he see that I just wanted to do my best? I was trying. I needed help. He didn’t give it to me.

I spent the year upset, and feeling like I wouldn’t pass the class. However, my teacher passed me with a B. Whether it was because he noticed I was trying, or because he simply didn’t want to deal with my “whining” if I got a lower grade, I’m not sure, but I’ll take a B.

Now that I’ve passed the class, and can look back upon it, I have a different outlook.

To the Teacher That Made Me Feel Incapable,

Thank you.

Thank you, for modeling exactly the teacher I do NOT want to be. When I myself am a teacher one day, I never want to be like you. I want to help my students. I want them to feel welcome in my classroom. I don’t want any of them to feel hopeless. I want them to all feel equally as capable.

Thank you, for helping me to appreciate my other teachers even more. I realized what good teachers they were, and how kind and how welcoming they all had been. Even if they had their faults, they always tried, and they were always open to try a different approach to teaching if their original method wasn’t working.

Thank you, for showing me that I won’t mix well with everyone I come across in life. I had never met anyone like you before… I had never had anyone that I hadn’t ‘clicked with’ in some way. In your class, I learned to be polite and respectful to someone that I didn’t necessarily like.

I may not have learned a lot of things on paper in your class, but I have a lot to take away from it. When I’m a teacher one day, and I struggle to teach a student in a way they understand, I will remember you, and I’ll find a way to help that student feel capable instead of telling them to just ‘sit there and follow along.’ We are all capable, we just need people to believe in us.