“Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her?“

I have been fortunate enough to have had several amazing teachers in my life.

The ones I remember most clearly are from high school.

There was one teacher, an English teacher, who would talk with me after class about whatever books I was reading. We would have in-depth conversations about Lord of the Flies, and she shared in my frustration about Romeo and Juliet. How I didn’t like the story and found it childish.

She talked to me like a person, like an equal, and that made me feel real and seen. It made me feel connected in a place where I didn’t really fit in.

Another English teacher was just an amazing person in general. She was younger and really knew how to connect with the class. There was one day where she mentioned an issue going on in her home life, and how she didn’t know how she was going to get through the situation.

I asked my mom if she would mind going to the store and getting a card for me. I wanted my teacher to know that even though things were rough, that we, or at least I, cared, and that things would get better.

The next day in class she said that ‘a student’ had gotten her a card, and that since that moment things seemed to be going right. It made me so happy. I will never forget her kindness and every time I think of her I wish her well and hope the best for her.

Another teacher, this time US History, was absolutely amazing. He was a football coach, and so we all naturally thought the class would be a joke. He would be more interested in planning out games than teaching the class.

When we got to WWII we were told that we had to do a project. We could literally do whatever we wanted as long as it in some way related to WWII.

One of my friends wanted to be a composer, and so he wrote a musical composition in which the woodwind instruments represented members of a Jewish family, and the brass represented the invading Nazi army. As the song progressed the woodwind instruments died off as the members of the family were killed, until only one instrument was left, the youngest boy in the family.

It was so heartbreakingly moving, and so much an expression of himself. Who else in our class could have written such an elegant piece of music and tell such a story behind the notes? What other teacher would allow for such an expression of self?

Another classmate was extremely into animation and created a flash animation. We weren’t allowed to see it since it was violent, but again, no one else in our class could have created something like that. It was purely himself.

I wrote a speech. Why as an introvert I would do that to myself was beyond me at the time. I think it was because I was able to use words. That I could write out what I had in my head.

And write I did. I became immersed in my head, pouring out the story that I saw. Shaping, molding, using words as my clay, drawing out the emotions from myself and sharing them with others so that they too could feel the experience.

I gave the speech to the class and everyone said that they were so moved by it. I still have it posted here. I fully believe that I was the only one in the class who could have word smithed something like this speech.

As a side note, all of the stories I have posted on Writing.com were written when I was roughly 16. So about 10 years ago now.

Writing comes naturally to me. And speaking on a topic that I fully believe in gives me the conviction I need to express the emotions in the words.

My band instructor played a huge part in helping me survive high school. In a sea of endless conformity, routine, and fakeness, band gave me a way to express myself. Band gave me something to be part of, something real, and something that I cared about and wanted to do well in. And again, I let myself drown in it.

Marching band, concert band, percussion ensemble, jazz band, even clarinet choir my senior year.

Band was about a larger whole, but it was also an individual endeavor. I could practice alone, making myself better, and then come back to the larger group and carry my own weight.

I could feel the music flowing through me, becoming a part of me.

As a percussionist I normally had a crucial part. If I didn’t play my piece there wasn’t 6 other people with the same part. My part was unique and if I didn’t play it, no one else would. I had to be there or the music wasn’t whole. It made me feel like I belonged, like I was important.

There was also a professor at the community college I went to before Full Sail. I was taking a Visual Basic class for my IT program. I really didn’t know what I wanted to do with life, but this program had computers and that seemed cool. At least it was better than the Accounting path I had been entertaining during high school.

There was one class where he pulled me aside and said that I was so far ahead of the class that I didn’t have to come next time.

He met with me one time to set up a game plan for transferring my credits to a local University so I could participate in the Air Force ROTC and go into the Air Force as an officer.

He is also the person who gave me the referral to the temp job at The Citadel, which landed me a permanent position there, which is what led to my journey of attending Full Sail and moving to Florida.

And I feel like an awful person, because that one teacher had the most impact on my life, and I cannot remember his name. I have no way of thanking him for everything that he helped me unknowingly achieve.

Then there are the countless teachers from Full Sail who helped me. Who took the time to show me things outside of the class curriculum. Who felt like I was worth their time. Who thought so highly of me that they labeled me as the Advanced Achiever of my class; the person most likely to succeed after graduation.

And now they are my co-workers and friends.

There were teachers who didn’t get me, who thought I was underachieving. I had teachers who I clashed with, and who made me frustrated every time I was in their classroom because I felt stifled. That no matter what I did I was never going to please them because they didn’t like inherently who I was and how I did things, how I learned and wanted to express myself.

I didn’t conform and they didn’t like that.

And then there are the teachers who let me be myself and shine in my own quiet, unique way. I am grateful for everyone who has helped shape my life, but I feel without my teachers, I wouldn’t be half the person I am today.