Dear Teacher,
On your typical Monday morning at 9 a.m., you opened the door to the classroom. You looked around and proceeded to take a seat. The teacher, however, was sitting at his desk, tapping a pencil, and grading papers. A few students file in late, as usual. You open your English textbook to page 342 and read the assigned passage. You don't talk. Silence fills the room as all of the 24 desks are filled with the same students that come to class every day. You spend half of the year learning about MLA and APA format, term papers, reading your classic literature such as "Shakespeare." You struggle to keep focus as we repeat the same cycle day in and day out. But when the teacher asks you why you aren't paying attention or are confused, you just sit there and absorb it all in. You are taught to be here to learn and get your education so you can move forward with life. You take the final exam, and as it is the last day of class, you realize this class was all just memorization, late night studying sessions, and repetitive lectures. What did you learn you may ask yourself? The answer being, not a single thing.
Dear Teacher,
Monday morning at 9 a.m., you open the door to your classroom. You look around and there he is, standing at the front of the classroom looking around the room. Not a single student files in late, as they are all on time. You unzip your book bag to gather a notebook and pencil to place on your desk, ready to take notes. But the sound of footsteps was heard walking over to the front of the chalkboard, as the following words began to be scribbled across the board: "Who are you?" "Carpe Diem," and "Identity."
"I have a question for all of you," he stated.
There was silence.
"What do all these words have in common, hmm?"Â The common answer is they all relate to you, and who you are. My job over the next semester is to ensure that when you walk out of my door by graduation, you can each say you know who you are."
Not a single person spoke until he proceeded to talk about his expectations with us throughout the school year. Every second he spoke was a lesson in itself as his eyes were full of passion. We went on to learn about American Literature such as "Beowulf" and "Frankenstein." Dozens of stories were discussed such as "A Good Man is Hard to Find," and we even read novels in comparison to the movies. Laughter filled the room as it came alive and danced as pens and pencils hit the paper and began to write like madmen as we delved into our creative writing unit. Poetry, short stories, some of the best authors I learned about in that classroom. Group discussions vibrated the room with curiosity and focus. Instead of MLA and APA papers, we had Friday Papers where us as students could pick the topic. We then handed in the papers and three top papers were picked each week. Our final term paper was a personal essay about ourselves and the growth that existed in each and every single one of us.
By the end of my Senior year, I learned more about myself than I ever have. I broke into a new world of writing, attending creative writing classes in Philadelphia, and even starting a blog. I found my true passion that existed deep-rooted inside of me, hidden by years of teachers who lacked the effortless keys to life itself: passion and communication. Each and every student that year had the opportunity to figure it all out, and that they did. The lesson of life was self-taught that year. To the students: ignorance was the start to the finish line of knowledge. Where innocence turned into experience, childhood into adolescence, memories into philosophies, imagination into over thinking, home into migration, and nightmares into dreams...and we said that we would never grow up. What did I learn you may ask? The never-ending lesson of who I am.
Sincerely,
A student that learned who she is
