Day 7: Thank You to a Former Teacher

I have let too many moments go by in my life without thanking someone, later regretting the lack of words.  Today I wrote a letter to a former teacher who inspired me.  I've had many "bad" teacher experiences, some which have indelibly marked my life with words that I will never forget.  Words spoken to my mother in a phone conversation. "She'll never make anything of herself."  I remember that my mother cried.  For some reason, this particular high school teacher was on a mission to accuse me of cheating and lack of effort.  I couldn't possibly have written that poem.  This essay is copied!  From where?  I don't know...but there is no way she could write this!  I guess it may have taken a teacher like that to lead me down the path that I eventually took, which was into creative writing.  The trouble was that I never really believed I was any good at it.  Until college and my professor...Rick.  He let us call him by his first name, which to me was the coolest thing ever.  He did not like to be addressed as "Doctor," or "Professor," which is probably why I can't remember his last name.  I remember receiving my first paper back from him,  the margins  filled with comments. I initially thought that I had done something terribly wrong. I took my paper and headed back to my apartment, afraid to read what was written.  Back in the safety of my apartment,  I first noticed the grade at the top of the paper, which was an "A."  It was the first "A" I had ever received in an English class.Then, I began to read the comments...I don't think that there was one negative remark, and if there was, it was stated in such a way that it just sounded positive. At the end, there was a comment that read like a letter from your best friend.  It took up more room than my entire paper.  From that point on, I began to take more risks in my writing, and the more I risked, the greater the reward.  Sometimes Rick would even use my paper as an example in the class, which always made me feel like I had won the lottery.  Many of our classes were not even held in the classroom.  Some were at the local pub or Rick's house, out on the lawn, or at the Poetry Cafe.  I'm sure that I was not the only one who flourished under Rick's guidance.  He actually didn't treat me better or differently.  So, today, I wrote a long overdue "thank you" letter to Rick.  (Now, if only I remember his last name, I will mail it!  I checked the FSU website and he no longer works there).