Teachers inspired me to come out of my shell
May 7-11 is Teacher Appreciation Week.
Growing up, I was good at school. I liked all of the subjects, especially science, math and English. I got mostly A’s and it came pretty easy for me. Plus I just thought that’s what you were supposed to do. Study, get good grades, go to college.
But I very clearly remember just not being happy most of the time, starting in middle school. I was often the ‘new girl’ since we were military and moved every few years, and was stuck thinking that being the ‘military brat new girl’ worked against me. I didn’t have a lot of friends to hang out with. I got made fun of for being a smarty pants, for being a goody-two-shoes, and often just felt out of the loop. To boot, I was very bad at meeting new people and NEVER challenged myself to speak up in class. In fact, I went to great lengths to not be called on, to not present, to not be heard or seen. I didn’t get invited to parties. I didn’t go to prom. Basically I was good at school, but from where I sat, school sucked and I hated it. And I thought – Is this all there is to life? Being smart, getting good grades, but feeling invisible?
But I had some teachers who said said and did some really great things for me, who will never know the difference they made.
In 10th grade I was the new girl – yet again – at a high school where everybody had grown up together, it seemed. Madame Rose, my French teacher, was always very nice to me. I was always the first one in class (not hanging out with friends in the hall) and she would try to chat with me. I still can picture her, flittering around putting out worksheets and writing vocabulary terms on the board. It wasn’t even a groundbreaking comment she made: “You really should talk more. Your answers are always correct. You have a lot to contribute. I can tell there’s a lot more going on behind your eyes. Still waters run deep. I can tell that about you.”
I chewed on that phrase for a long time, and what it might mean for me: Still waters run deep.
The next year, another teacher Ms. Zimmerman said something very similar to me, except the implications for me were more important. I was starting to think about college. Her class was a special class for gifted education and the format was conversational, with just 8-10 students. I barely said 10 words the whole year. I ‘spoke’ through a weekly journal we had to keep. One week, she gave me an A+++ and wrote “You write so well. Is it OK if I share your entry at parent’s night next week?” I was shocked. Why would anybody else want to read what I wrote?
I think you can see how like these could stick to a girl like me. I’m not saying I was suddenly inspired me to stand up and give speeches at every turn, but they certainly helped spark my imagination about what I could do if I decided to try to be more open, to talk more in class, to not feel like such a doormat. They told me: You have to choose to speak. You have to choose to be brave. You owe it to yourself and others to come out of your shell.
I’ve definitely progressed in the ‘sharing’ department! In college, I would – nervously – raise my hand to comment. But I challenged myself to do it. In the Peace Corps, I gave group talks to villagers in French (Madame Rose would be so proud!). Today I daresay that I’m excited to give a presentation, to lead a meeting, or to stand up for myself. Recently, I did a CNN iVideo that got over 68,000 hits.
Ms. Zimmerman passed away not long after I graduated college. I never got the chance to tell her what she meant to me. I hope that wherever she is, she knows how much I appreciate what she did to help me grow. And I hope teachers everywhere know that, even though students may not say thank you, that even the smallest words or acts can help make a huge difference in a student realizing his or her potential.
About Mary Beth Cox