In high school, I was in honors English. (Big surprise, right?) As part of the track, during my junior year, Essay Writing was a required elective. Junior year honors English was widely feared. I mean, junior year is already stressful, since everyone is always telling you that it’s the year your grades matter to colleges. And one of the toughest teachers taught the honors English class. Plus that whole Essay Writing thing. We had to read Classic Works of Literature, and then write five page papers on them.
Sure, now, that seems like a breeze, after having written a 50-page thesis in college and writing editorial letters that are sometimes more than five pages. But back then, it was an intimidating thought.
But want to know a secret? I loved every single minute of those classes. Both remain two of the most challenging classes I’ve ever taken, for the level I was at then. The best kind of challenging–the kind that made me realize I could think and talk about the books I read. Largely because I had two pretty amazing teachers.
I had a lot of great English and literature teachers all through grade school, high school, and college. All of them are part of the reason I discovered that being an editor of children’s books is what I love and helped me to get where I am now, actually doing it. Mrs. Deeter in eighth grade drilled correct grammar into us, and it’s still helping me every day. Mrs. Higgins in the seventh grade made sure we were all read at least one book of literary merit per marking period and wrote a report on it. (I read a lot more than that. But somehow eluded Up a Road Slowly, which every other girl in the class ended up reading at some point. Someday I’m going to sit down with that one.) In college, Judy Gill taught me how to talk to other people about their writing, and also made sure I wrote with confidence in my own opinions–no wishy-washy writing got past her. Carol Ann Johnston and Wendy Moffat taught me how to make a firm argument, and how to poke holes in one that was flabby.
But Mrs. Gridley (who taught me English both freshman and sophomore year, as well as Essay Writing) was the very first teacher who made me realize that this reading and writing stuff was something that I’m good at. The very first book we read in Essay Writing was The Great Gatsby. We spent a few weeks reading and talking about it, and then it was time to write our first essay. Mine was about the symbolism of the eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleburg. A few days after we handed them in, I was walking down the hall between classes with one of my friends, and I heard Mrs. Gridley say from right behind us, “Who knew Martha Mihalick had such a strong voice!” She’d read my essay, either the night before or earlier that day. (It’s probably key to know that I was very shy and quiet in high school.) And she thought it was good.
That moment has stuck with me ever since. I’d never had anyone tell me outright that my opinions about what I read were well-thought-out and that they mattered. In college, while I was writing a paper, I would hear her in my head, and sometimes I even still do.
And Miss Sarosi taught the dreaded honors English that year (and taught me for AP English the next year). What made that class (well, both that and AP) so hard was that junior year was the year we had to start thinking about literature for ourselves. Miss Sarosi didn’t spoon feed us what the symbolism, allusions, themes, etc, were. We had to use our brains and come up with them on our own. And I always felt that whatever it was we came up with, those interpretations were valid…as long as we could back them up. (You see why having Essay Writing in tandem with this class worked so well.) That class made me feel like I was an adult when it came to reading and writing. Miss Sarosi pushed me to be the best reader I could be.
I guess what all of this is to say, simply, is that a good teacher is invaluable, and can shape who you become. Having teachers who believed in me is something that I’m thankful for every day.
Tags: english class, high school, teachers
