About writing

 I remember a conversation I had with my English teacher back in high school. We had all been asked to write an essay on anything of our choice for an assignment, as long as it was about something that was legally and morally right. As a teacher you actually could lay out some ground rules back in those days without the fear that some student would go find the Civil Liberty’s lawyers, who would sue you for infringing on their right of Freedom of speech. That’s not what this is about however but I just thought I would throw it in as some delightful sarcasm as to how things have become in today’s world.

My teacher asked me on the day we turned our essays in, to stay after class because he wanted to talk with me. I used to get this request quite often because when you thought you were the appointed court jester of Staples High School as I did sometimes nerves get rubbed a little thin with the faculty. But this day was different because when the last student left and he gently closed the door instead of slamming it and was actually smiling at me, I was very confused. He came over to me and gave me my essay back and said, “Did you write all of this?”

“Yes,” I stammered. Not sure who I had offended and why.

“This is awesome,” he said. “This is the best essay any student has ever wrote for me in class.  Now I was truly at a loss for words because I wasn’t used to getting praise for much of anything. My father used to sign my report card while he was shaving and paid little attention to what was on it. He once signed my card with an bad grade on it and handed it back to me, while asking me if I had finished shoveling the driveway. To be fair I knew enough to catch him without his glasses on. But back to my teacher.

“You my friend,” my teacher said, “Have a gift here, and I want you to know it. I want you to also take this conversation seriously, for one time in your life. Your passion for writing is what I am talking about. It shows through in every sentence.”

I’m not sure if Mr. Johnson is still alive, but if he is I would like to say to him. “I never forgot what you told me sir.” It was many years before I was able to find the time to take it seriously but always those words would ring in my ears whenever I would write. If I could see my old teacher, Mr. Johnson today, I would say two things to him. First, thank you for encouraging me and thank you for caring. You were a teachers, teacher my friend and although it took a while, you made a difference in my life.” Secondly can I have that paper back? I could probably use it in next week’s column.

I think all of us at one point or another have a similar mentoring story.  Yes, someone who made a difference in our lives, but only because we paid attention and as Mr. Johnson said so eloquently to me. “Shut your trap and listen for once Holst.”