Happy Teacher Appreciation Week!

I couldn't name every teacher I ever had who encouraged me to keep reading; I was lucky there were that many. It would take less time to point out the ones who didn't. For a weird kid who wanted to live in her books, I was dealt a really good hand. But when we're talking strictly of this blog, my biggest influence would be Mrs. S-, even though I no longer remember what we read in her class or how the curriculum was built.

I had Mrs. S- for first- and second-grade Language Arts (what we called "Reading" in the '80s; feel the lasers!) She made us keep a class journal and write constantly, usually at the beginning of class with a sentence of guidance up on the board. It was about spelling and grammar, but more importantly, it was about putting words down on the page, getting into corners and figuring a way out. In her class I met my first poet ever, who sat with us for two days reading his work and helping us with ours. And it was while I was taking her class that I started writing stories that were longer than what we had time for in one class period, stories that when typed bumped against the four-page limit of my child's word-processing program. (But seriously, four pages? Dream bigger.)

That type of real, genuine encouragement is rare and it isn't just empty flattery. Real encouragement treats you to anticipate the bumps and keep you going on your way. And kids, in a classroom or out, know when you're inflating them with hot air instead of sincerely appreciating their contribution. (I don't know why the taxonomists intent on identifying the "Millennial Generation" need to add to our plate that in addition to wanting to make a difference, that we are seemingly too dumb to know when someone's puffing us up.) I don't even know what I saw as my obstacles back then, but they didn't really matter because with the guidance of teachers like Mrs. S- I was fairly confident I could do anything. So in times when I might be thinking of myself as the worst writer in the world (like oh hypothetically last night) I can be reassured to think that the actual worst writer in the world is the one who lets things like that fear get in the way of just writing.

Mrs. S- retired to Michigan some years ago; I'm fairly sure I was in one of her last classes. I've seen a lot of teachers I had retire recently, even one that passed away. Did I ever say thank you enough? Probably not. So on behalf of all the students who are too young, too old, too badly behaved, too distracted or too self-absorbed to say it -- thanks so much for all you do. Know that your efforts are noticed.