Large iced coffee in one hand, pile of books in the other, I make my way to the second seat in the second row and wait. In comes my English professor. I have no idea what is about to happen, but I can tell you, I was scared as hell.

Why?

It was my first semester of college. My first time ever stepping foot into any college, let alone for me, and here I am: a 31-year old non-traditional, first generation student.

English was always a favorite subject of mine, so I hoped I would at least know what I was doing in this course.

And yet, I was scared.

We start going over the syllabus. "You are allowed three excused absences" the professor said. Fair enough I think to myself. Never having called out of work, i felt that was fair. After that, we graced over due dates and the required texts. The first class, was one of those get to know you awkward type of situations. You look around at the class, and wonder who you might possibly be able to ask to borrow a pencil, you know...if the situation were to actually arrive. Looking around, I had not a clue who I could ask. I was the oldest student in the class. Everybody started to stand up, I guess that is the end of class, huh?

Next class, I am so prepared and ready to learn. The professor starts to tell us about their educational background, and how they originally dropped out of the University they were attending when they were younger. Years later, they come back to school but attend a community college first. later transferring to a new University where they excelled. I thought to myself, okay...I can do this. I've got this.

Professor tells me to take out our text, we start to read the text but are instructed to finish reading on our own and write a journal on what we read.

Oh no! What the hell am i going to write? What does he want me to say? Panic sets in, and I have to raise my hand to understand this assignment. "Professor, what exactly do you want us to say about this story?"

"That is all on you. professor states, I want to hear from YOU, I want to know exactly what is on your mind when you read this story. "

Easy enough.

I go home read the story, and write to my hearts content. The homework was oddly satisfying. Writing about a story i enjoyed reading did not seem like homework to me. When Monday rolled around, I could not wait to hand my homework in.

My professor starts to ask a few questions regarding the essay we read in the text, I loved the essay so much I had to raise my hand. I give my opinion and nervously await his response. The professor engages in conversation with me and opens it up to the class. I no longer feel afraid to speak out in class. In fact I eagerly do my homework, highlight my text, and make sure i understand the following essay, looking forward to the same engagement as last time.

The professor hands us back our journals. I see a big "A" scrawled across my paper with some comments. "I really like the way you tied this together" was one comment.

I felt proud.

Finally, I was on my way to understanding what i was learning in class, and achieving a good grade.

As time went on, we got to know our professor a little better. The professor took time to get to know us, to understand what was going through our minds. The professor gave us essays to complete, and threw ideas out at us, that really fit us, made us understand exactly where we needed to go with the assignment...not tell us what to do, but point us in the direction, tell us it was okay to be creative, encourage us to think outside the box for once.

This is something that we often forget we can do. We are too busy trying to do exactly what the professor wants us to do, we forget that we can also add a touch of who we are to the assignment. Just that approach right there, helped me in ways I cannot explain.

You see... life led me down a path to where I am now, An older college student. I have a story. Who I am. What I have been through, who I strive to be...that all is of great importance to me. It was taken away from me at one point. Having it back, means I don't have to fight to be who I am anymore...but a professor who encourages it? Awesome!

This professor was patient with me and my million questions, my horrible formatting mishaps, my five and six page journal responses written out since I did not own a computer at the time, and most importantly: my self doubt.

The amount of progress I made from the start of the semester to it's completion was amazing. I went into professor's class, not knowing how to annotate, write a formal essay, or think for myself. I came out of my professors class with an A- grade and received the pass with distinction certificate for my portfolio that the professor had us put together, which comprised of four essays we did in professors class and a formal cover letter.

Because of you professor, I was inspired to change my major, I was inspired to go after my dream of becoming a writer, something I never thought was feasible.

Because of you, I felt confident to start writing out scholarship essays. I received five to date.

Because of you, I decided to start pursuing articles I could write for publication. Since then, I have had articles published on various social media sites and newspapers.

Because of you, I worked through my first honors class with you, and made it into the honors program. You had faith in me, when I was feeling unsure I could cut it.

Because of you, I became hip to what was going on around me, and developed a strong stance on standing up for what was right, even if it meant not many would follow.

Because, you never judged me, and allowed me to be the free-spirited inner hippie I am through my work

Because of you.

Thank you!