16 of 16

Write now Article Tools

She was small in stature, with an unconventional hair-do by
the 70's standard and her attire was quite modest. She did
not make a BIG impression. She was almost mouse-like. Or
perhaps drably angelic.

I was 15 when I met her. 15 and depressed. 15 and without hope.
15 and writing.

She took notice. She pointed out my ability to use the English
language in interesting ways.

It was the first time and only time anyone would take the time to
recognize me as a writer.

Sure, I've done some college journalism, a short story, opinion.
But no one (whose opinion could be backed by a degree) has ever
taken the time to say, "I like the way you said that".

Funny how I don't need that.

Odd, how I can remember her smiling, standing so small in front of
that chalk board. Her hands clasped behind her back.

Oh, how I wanted to scream, "TEACH ME". Make me a writer. Make me
understand.

She knew.

I'm glad that there were and are people like her in the world.

I cannot remember her name. But I can still see her standing there. The
mighty woman that she was. The fantastic teacher that she was.

The person who introduced me to "Pip".

I hope that the road is still rising up to meet her.

Learn more about this author, G E Barr.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about The making of an English teacher?
We want to hear your view. Write now!