Send my love to your new lover, treat her better, we’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts, we both know we ain’t kids no more.
Remember that event I told you about? Well the event was actually a person, and you’re about to hear all about her. Here goes nothing.
I was at my cousin’s graduation from Jamestown High School on Saturday, when I realized one of my favorite English teachers, Mrs. Wilson, had left. I didn’t show it on my face, I didn’t have a gigantic outburst, but I was upset. Really upset. This is going to sound super cheesy and cliché, but she changed my life. Going into high school, I didn’t really care for English. All I ever did in elementary school was label sentences with parts of speech, and although I was decent at it, I found it super boring. It seemed useless. Once I realized that English after elementary school would involve reading, my ears perked up; if you know this blog at all, you know I love to read.
It was clear early on that Mrs. Wilson’s class was going to be my favorite class during my second semester of freshman year. Not to say I didn’t like my other classes, but there was something about English that had me looking forward to third period all day, every day. One of the first things I remember thinking in that class was She’s an older version of me. Because she was just as nerdy, if you will, as I was, Mrs. Wilson let the cat out of the bag. That is, she helped me embrace my love of reading. I’d always loved to read, of course, but I had been shying away from getting excited about it, because I thought if I got too excited, people would start to think I was weird. She brought my excitement back.
There was one time I will never forget. We had to write our final essay during class. I had made progress on it, but I didn’t get to finish before class ended. I gave Mrs. Wilson my flash drive anyway; it would be worse if I didn’t turn it in. So I went to my fourth period: band. A little while later, there was a knock on the band room door. It was none other than Mrs. Wilson, asking if she could talk to me for a minute. So, I followed her out into the hallway, wondering what the heck this conversation could be about.
Even though I knew I probably wasn’t, the first thing I said was “Am I in trouble?” She said, “No! I just wanted to tell you your essay was really good. I’m going to let you finish it. It’s the best thing you’ve done all semester.” All I could stammer in reply was “Thank you”.
Back in the band room, I was on top of the world. It was the biggest compliment I had ever received. Coming from someone I cared about, it meant a lot.
All I can say now is that I miss her, and whatever she’s up to now, I hope Mrs. Wilson has it good. I wish her the best.
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