Remember the teachers

I was out in my garden last Sunday afternoon and did a twist of my back somehow and by the evening, I was in major pain. Gut wrenching torture, that made me want to puke; I couldn’t walk for more than three minutes at a time without suffering.

I probably am one of the least stoic people dealing with being sick or hurting myself. I’m not really a baby or anything close, but I want my discomfort over fast. I don’t like lingering, much less intensifying uncomfortableness.

Monday, I was barely able to get around at all.

One aspect of my personality, as I get older; I try to have the attitude I had when I was 19.

At 19, you face the world feeling it is there to be conquered by heart, body and soul. I have to admit, actor Billy Bob Thorton inspired me when asked about how he faced aging and said, ‘I always think I am 19’.

I love the idea of thinking like a young pup even if you are an old dog.

I have found the heart and soul can feel 19 as you add more years with not much trouble, but the body can be a different ball of wax all together.

For three days after my wrong twist, my body was crippled making me feel I was indeed very much older than 19.

Finding myself sitting down or laying down a lot, I mean a lot, I started a bit of a retrospect.

The Real Point of this Column

I grabbed old photo books and journals I have kept through the years—I have close to 30 journals—and because I write for a living, I started tracing back in my mind, who gave me encouragement to be a writer.

I bet you thought this column was going to be on getting older and how the body betrays the youthful heart and soul.

Nope, not even close.

Elementary School

I do remember my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Alne (crazy I still remember her name) gave me praise on my stories centered around a boy and his dog Cranberry as they traveled the world. I remember doing research on puffins, because the duo were shipwrecked on Greenland and had to eat the birds. This teacher would take me aside in class and tell me I should pursue writing stories. Heady words to a fourth grader—but not forgotten years later.

Junior High

The next teacher of impact on my compositions was my 8th grade teacher, Mrs. McNamara, who taught a creative writing class and had us write a new story weekly. She would put a new word on the chalkboard for each assignment and from that core, we created a 500ishword tale.

I wrote about pirates, ghosts, cities getting established in the New World and subject matter I marveled at. I was able to do this because of a teacher who encouraged me and gave me confidence

High School

The high school English teacher who encouraged me was Mr. Clark. He got me. This man made me read poets along with fiction writers. He is the person who introduced me to S.E. Hinton, the author of the “Outsiders,” “Rumblefish,” and my favorite, “That Was Then and This is Now.” There is no praise strong enough for this teacher who kept a 17 year old interested in learning the world through words.

College

When I graduated high school, I went to the University of Maryland (UMD) and started as a Political Science major. I took the required technical writing course but no other writing related classes until I switched over to Advertising as a major.

I found myself required to take journalism courses, media production and marketing. I found it was a better fit than politics and I was writing a lot more.

In my junior year, I elected to take an upper level English course on creative writing.

Mrs. Townsend would give us subjects and we would write autobiographical stories, poetry and fiction. Mrs. Townsend would pick one or two of the weekly assignments to read in class. There were about 25 students, so to be picked was a big deal. I remember when she picked a poem I wrote, I was proud enough. But since it had been the only time in about three months a work of mine had been chosen, I didn’t think I was much of a creative writer compared to students who had their works read out loud several times over the course of months.

I was doing okay gradewise—and then the final project was due. It was to be 40 percent of our grade. I decided to write a fictional story containing some elements of my life. It was the first time I really tried to evoke emotion out of the reader. The projects were all to be read aloud, but Mrs. Townsend didn’t let the students know who wrote what so she could have the class partly grade the works.

After my story was read, besides getting damn good reviews from my classmates, several students asked Mrs. Townsend to break her rule and let them know who wrote it. She told them it was me and there was total shock—I even heard some say they couldn’t believe it. I loved the reaction, especially when the top student came up to me at the end of class, and thanked me for writing the story. This made me pretty sure I was going to get an A on this little gem which would give me an A for the semester.

I don’t remember exactly how I ended up in her office before final grades were given out, but when I did, she said something I remember vividly to this day.

“I can’t in good conscience give you higher than a ‘B’ because you need stronger mastery of English grammar and language, but that can be fixed by reading more.” Then she said words that were totally mind blowing to me. “Mike, of all the students in the class, you have a talent I can’t teach.”

I was disappointed about the grade, but she had sparked something inside.

College Again

There were several circumstances that led me back to UMD a year later to get an English Degree. I took 21 credits each semester and immersed myself in English to complete the degree in only a year.

I not only took grammar and linguistics; but read writers both old and new who inspire me to this day. I also took another class taught by Mrs. Townsend. I received an “A” and I am not sure who was prouder, her or me.

Present Day

So while I laid on my back way too much the past week, I remembered how truly important a few different teachers, at unique points in my life, made me love to be a writer. It was almost an epiphany on how much I owed each teacher at their respective time in my life. I was extremely blessed.

I believe parents and students in Carbon County School District No. 2 (CCSD2) appreciate their teachers while in school. However, I think especially during summer break, it is easy to forget the positive impact educators make.

I can’t imagine what my existence would have been if any one of the teachers mentioned had failed to come into my life.

It wasn’t until I was forced to sit down (or lay down) and reflect on the motivating teachers I had in my life, that I feel remiss in never getting in touch with any to say “thank you” for having faith in me. When I was 19 (since I use that number as my touchstone) I should have said thanks to the teachers I had before college.

I wish I had looked up Mrs. Townsend before I left the East Coast in my early 30s and told her how she changed my life, literally. I kick myself, because I did spend a couple years working on my Masters at Maryland and could have easily found her during that time.

But I can say to the teachers at CCSD2, continue doing the inspiring work you do, because the sparks you give students to have faith in themselves really can make a difference, no matter what the grade you are teaching.

To end on a positive note, I saw the chiropractor and have come light years with my agony, although I can say I am far from healed. Still, I can move around and that was more than I could do before.

Maybe this whole ordeal was supposed to happen so I would remember those truly special teachers in my life.

I can accept that.

Just next time I go down this type of memory lane, I hope it isn’t quite as painful.