Dear Reader,

To this day I don’t know where I stand with this teacher. Despite our complicated and eventful past, I don’t think we’ve ever hated each other–which is astonishing. I was an awful student who didn’t do any of my work and was “wasting away my potential.” I was frustrating to work with and I didn’t care. I also did something to put her under the impression that I had been lying to her (still unclear of this).

And she was a teacher who was equally as frustrating to work with. Okay, it wasn’t equal, but I couldn’t get away with what I was used to getting away with–not that I didn’t try. And then she decided I couldn’t move onto AP English, while I felt that it was neither her decision, nor the right decision.

This led to a meeting. The most humiliating, frustrating meeting I’ve ever been a part of. I felt so hopeless. I sat there in front of her, the head of the English department (my future English teacher), my guidance counselor, and my mother. And I cried. I’m pretty sure she did, too, but I don’t remember a lot. I tried to forget the events that happened as soon as I got home.

The consensus was that I wasn’t able to go onto AP English–a class that I felt was necessary if I wanted to get into a good college. Or if I wanted to enjoy my senior year.

I was broken hearted. I still don’t know how I feel about everything. After all, it all turned out fine. I got into my first choice college and they still let me take the AP exam–I got a 4, which is alright.

I still wonder if I would’ve gotten a 5 if I had taken that class.

So Farrar and I have quite a history. I had her as a freshman and a junior and her class was always something to look forward to (on the days I had my work done, at least). And I need to thank her.

I thank her for never giving up on me. For never thinking I was stupid and never lowering the expectations she had originally set for me. I did plenty in all of my other classrooms to lower the expectation for myself, but Farrar refused. She believed I could become something with my writing. She still believes I will.

Even recently she contacted me telling me not to stop. She always tells me not to stop–says I was born to write. I’d always been confused what she meant by this though. Journalist? Author? Blogger? What does she want me to be?

But I realized it doesn’t matter. I can do whatever I decide to set my mind to. One of my majors is journalism. I’m working (here and there) on two novels. I have this blog. I can explore my options and decide what I want to do, but I can never thank her enough for always being so supportive.

I’ve always been a writer–it’s just something I’ve always done. But, as most people know, I don’t exactly glow of self-confidence. And writing is so subjective! How was I ever supposed to know if I’m any good? I don’t have the largest vocabulary and I’m sure I make grammatical errors constantly. I often write too much (this post, for example) and more often than not, there seems to be no point in what I’m trying to say.

But Mrs. Farrar believes in me, and she always has. And she doesn’t keep mum about it, which makes all the difference. Just to have one person–an English teacher, nonetheless–have confidence in me to the point where I would feel rude to ever stop writing. That means everything.

So thank you.

And I’m sorry.



PS. Song of the day is One Night Stand by Em Harriss. Enjoy!