I have five minutes of power left on my laptop battery, so I had better make this quick.
I remember doing stream of consciousness writing assignments in eighth grade english. We’d have to put pen to paper and then we weren’t allowed to stop writing until our teacher said time. I think that it forced me to formulate some thoughts that would have otherwise floated out into the ether.
It also probably resulted in quite a bit of drivel.
This post, I suspect, will mostly be drivel.
That english teacher’s name was Hester, a name that really is perfect for an english teacher. She had us reading older classics like Jane Eyre and more modern books like the House on Mango Street. She had interesting things to say about both and she forced me to think critically and to really pause and examine metaphor. Looking back on it, she was one of the best teachers that I’ve had.
Even if she often scared me shitless. She was a tough old bird and I found her incredibly intimidating. Where some teachers inspire through common ground and empathy. She inspired through sheer will, crazy intelligence and sheer terror. I think that it’s a shame that I was too awed by her to ever tell her what a positive impact on me. I always dreaded her classes, which is silly, really. Because, I always left her classes feeling somehow empowered. And maybe a little bit smarter.
She died a few years ago and I immediately regretted not sending her an email telling her what a great teacher she was.
This hasn’t inspired me to send any letters to any teachers of mine that are still alive.
Even though I’ve had some great teachers in my life.
And I sure do love to write letters.
And…. time.
(My battery died seconds before I hit publish. I really must work on my timing).
