I Can Be Taught

"A mediocre teacher tells. A good teacher explains. A superior teacher demonstrates. A great teacher inspires." --William A. Ward

I've been taking a journey back through my life by reading old journals I've written, and it really is like finding old letters from my past self to future me. My purpose for reading these comes from trying to uncover all of the parts and pieces of me that are chipped, cracked, broken, so that I can repair them and move forward whole for the first time in my life.

The gift of journaling was inspired by an English teacher from the 7th grade, Mrs. Forbes, and it was the only educational thing I remember from my middle school experience, as that was also the time in my life when I discovered boys and found them far more interesting than homework. It makes me smile to think that I barely remember the names of a dozen boys in my middle school, but the one bit that changed my life forever, learning the power of journaling, has been my lifelong companion, the place where I share my dark, my light, and all points in between, and is now becoming a new career path for me.

My Senior English teacher, Mrs. Corpening, tried to pull creativity out of me by pushing me to read and write frequently. By the time I got to her, I was so obsessed with getting married that my interest in school was barely an ember burning inside.  I thought what she was trying to show me meant nothing, had nothing to do with my future, but she didn't give up on me--bullying, cajoling, and sometimes threatening me in order to keep me engaged. Finally, in spite of myself, I began to see the wonderful world of reading, writing and discovery open up. Thank you is not enough to say to a woman who doggedly refused to allow me to get away with hiding myself under the rocks of apathy and indifference. Like Mrs. Forbes, Mrs. Corpening also changed my life, and I'm grateful for a host of other educators who've been helping me build my wings one feather at a time. I had no idea that's what they were doing, but I'm so very grateful that they did. I only hope I've paid that forward with my own students.

This is what my 20-year-old self had to say about the wondrous gift of writing, taken from a journal I began in 1989:

I'm not a famous poet, but I am a dreamer. Of all the things you hear in fairy tales, I believe. Suffer with tears of joy, and you will find a new ability to love deeper. If all these words sound odd strung together, then you have truly seen the person I am reflected in the pages of my writing. I'm a dramatic person and I like all sides of the coin. I thrive on challenges and dreams. The things I write are my innermost thoughts, dreams, loves and pains. They are what I am--good, bad, or otherwise, and they belong to me. I don't write them to be judged, criticized, or praised--I put them down to ease my pain and express my joy.

Dedicated to all of the educators who work hard to break open the minds of their students so that those minds might be filled to over-flowing with knowledge, curiosity, and wisdom.

*Image from mymcbooks.wordpress.com.

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