“Our fingerprints don’t fade from the lives we touch” – Judy Blume
I was in French immersion so I had Mrs. T as an English teacher for one hour a day from Grade 2 through Grade 6.
She was friendly woman who could only have been in her late twenties at the time and she truly seemed to enjoy working with her students.
Mrs. T loved my passion for reading and often made book suggestions to me. She somehow knew that books were my escape from the real world.
When it came to my fiction writing, Mrs. T read every single story that I wrote. On a few occasions, she even asked permission to share them with the Principal, Vice-Principal and some other teachers.
But Mrs. T wouldn’t read my stories to simply “humor” me. She was genuinely interested enough to give me feedback and ask questions about my characters and story lines. She made me feel special and talented. I never felt silly or thought twice about letting her read anything I wrote.
She was one of the few to tell me that I was a talented writer and that I should never stop. Having an adult say things like that was a huge deal for me.
At the end of sixth grade, she gave me a lovely collection of decorative sea shells that still sits on my coffee table.
I lost touch with Mrs. T when I started university but I still think of her often. If it hadn’t been for Mrs. T, I likely would have stopped writing way back then.
Has a teacher ever changed your life? How so?