��� 2007-02-22, 10:55 p.m.
Teachers
Sometimes teachers know what you are and what you can do before you do.
My third grade teacher, Mrs. Leslie, was permitted to retire half way through the school year. I am so grateful that they let her stick around because she knew I was a writer before I did. Sure, I was always making up stories and such but I never really thought about it until she gave me this giant blank tablet and told me to use it for my writing.
It worked. I felt empowered every time I looked at that giant note pad. It made me want to write. I started putting down into words the stories I was making up in my head. I often wonder about her, if she's still alive.
In seventh grade I had another teacher who saw something in me. Mr. Johnson sent me to the young writer's conference that year. I still remember how it felt to be chosen, even though I didn't know what it was all about. I learned a lot at the conference and I even remember the speaker that year - the author of a book called "Chelsea and the Green Haired Kid."
I hated my english writing classes in college. (The second one was awful, I almost got into a fist fight with the teacher.) In the first one I felt like everything I wrote was shit. But the teacher, Mr. Beaudoin, seemed to like it, gave me A's. Even called me after the final to give me my score over the phone and told me that my score was "exceptional." That's a call I'll never forget. I tried to look him up a few years ago but it looks like he's not at the school anymore. Too bad - I'd like to share with him what his instruction meant to me.
I know there will be more special people to come into my life and encourage me just when I need it the most. I like to stop and single them out every once in a while..say thanks...even if they don't hear it.
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