Teachers, English, and College

I hate English. This was along the lines of what I first thought while sitting in my third grade classroom, listening to the teacher rattle on about things I could never understand. The teachers were dictators, using their power to point out my flaws with their power of the red pen, which covered my early essays from page to page, frustrating me to no end. In those days it did not matter what those comments said, only that they were there. My inspiration to better my writing was given to me by one of my grade school teachers, whose meticulous care to correct every mistake on my papers drove me to improve. I came to expect the red marks and, at the same time, learned that they were necessary in perfecting something I enjoyed so much. Various teachers had different opinions on style and composition, but all of them contributed some piece of their technique, and the result is how I write today.

A lot has changed from when I was back in grade school, but my most dramatic change of heart is my attitude towards teachers. I fondly remember the times when my grade school teacher would give me the task of “previewing” books that she could potentially use in the classroom for her. At the time, I was proud to have my opinion taken seriously and it’s what motivated me to be a better writer. No longer do I view English as an obstacle, but rather as something that is to be enjoyed. My writing today is a pleasure to create, and it’s now one of my greatest passions. When thinking back to my grade school teacher, and how she affected my life so much, it is an easy choice for me to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life. It appeals to me that I could repay her by making a career out of my passion for writing.

It’s been a long road to where I am now, and I know that I have a much longer one ahead of me but I can’t help but stop for a moment to appreciate the impact that some people have had on my life. Recently, I contacted that old grade school teacher and thanked her for everything that she’s done for me. Humbled, she replied to me saying that she was proud of me for taking my first steps out into the world of college by choosing such an ambitious and fitting major. Though she tells me that my success in writing was my own doing, I could still see the pleasure in her eyes at being called the first roots of my new passion. I love English.