At Christmas time this last year, I ran in to my high school creative writing teacher at the grocery store in my home town. She looked exactly the same as she did when I was in her class, which is hard to believe was about sixteen years ago. I must have looked different to her with an extra fifty pounds on my body and a couple of young wrinkles. With our carts parked across the aisle from each other, we had a nice chat. I told her about my four children and she told be about hers. It was good to see her again.
Then yesterday when I was supposed to be getting started on my taxes, I began reading some old school journals from the filing cabinet instead. The first one was from third grade and the last one was from her class, my senior year of high school.
I wish I could remember if I thanked her when I saw her at the store. Did I thank her for all she taught me about writing? Did I thank her for helping me to find ways to write about my troubles (something that was good therapy for me)? Did I thank her for providing assignments that fed my creativity? What about the many hours she must have spent reading my journals and stories before she wrote her own supportive comments?
I can only imagine the boys and girls she has been able to help over the years. Perhaps because I could never thank her enough I did not thank her at all?
I'm not sure what I said. I hope I said thank you.
And I hope I told her how beautiful she is.
1 comment:
I had a teacher in 10th grade that was such a positive influence in my life and although I told her thank you, I think it took years to truly appreciate her. Long story short, my family moved before I started 10th grade and I was angst-ridden about it. One day this teacher wrote me note about how she appreciated my participation in class and her encouraging words turned my bad/rebellious attitude around. I never like World History until that note arrived. She was a blessing!
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