The fall of my junior year of high school I fell in love for the first time...with writing. Poetry, to be exact.
I was sitting in my counselor's office during orientation, deciding on another class to take because I was in need of another credit. My counselor at the time recommended taking creative writing, and I was immediately hesitant. It sounded boring, but she promised it was a fun class, so I gave in, annoyed I let her convince me to take a class I knew I wasn't going to like. Boy, was I wrong.
During my class' poetry unit, there was an assignment we had to turn in where we had to write three poems from the point of view of three different people. I remember feeling confident in my poems, hoping and thinking I'd receive an A on the assignment. A week or so went by and my teacher began handing our poems back to us. I received mine back with a note on it that said one of my poems had given him the chills and asked if he could use it as an example for future classes. I was on cloud nine. My favorite teacher in the whole world, who I cared more about what he thought of my work than anyone else, told me my work gave him the chills. I could've screamed I was so happy. I hated sharing my work, especially with him, (who I will let remain anonymous), because I didn't want him to think I was a terrible writer. It was the defining moment. It was the moment I knew I wanted to be a writer.
I loved everything about creative writing. Not only the subject, but also the people in my class. Everyone quickly became close, and as cheesy as it sounds, we kind of became our own little family. We constantly joked around and often spent the entire class being off topic, or even trying to get our teacher off topic. Our teacher never wanted to admit it, but he loved our class, as much as we joked around and got him on a tangent, we actually got him to admit he was going to miss us at the end of the semester. I looked forward to class every single day, and hated the days that I didn't have creative writing. It was the first time I've ever been excited about a class before, and I hated to see it come to an end. I dreaded the end of the semester. The last day of class I was actually genuinely sad, and it was the first time I'd ever been sad about a class ending. I could've stayed in it forever.
As we signed up for classes for the following year, there was an option for advanced creative writing. I wanted to take it, but I was scared. I mean, I knew writing came easy to me, but I still lacked the confidence I needed. I talked to my teacher and told him I was unsure. He told me over and over again it was a class I would succeed in, but I still didn't believe him. He so badly wanted me to take it that he set up a meeting the following morning with the advanced creative writing teacher to try and convince me to take it. I went to the meeting and of course, got convinced to take it. I was nervous and scared that I wasn't cut out for the class but he constantly reminded me he wouldn't be pushing me to sign up for it if he didn't think I would do well.
Looking back two years later, I will always be grateful to have the teacher I did. He constantly pushed me to do better and believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. Honestly, if I had someone else, I probably would've never fallen in love with writing and wouldn't be writing this article right now, and for that I am forever thankful.
It's crazy to think that if I never let my counselor convince me to sign up for creative writing during orientation, my life would be completely different. I wouldn't love written or spoken word poetry, I wouldn't be writing this article and I wouldn't have a passion for something. I was dreading taking creative writing and it turned out to be my favorite class I've ever taken. Funny, huh?
In just one year I fell in love, found my passion and learned that things don't always happen the way you expect them to. Take a chance, chase opportunities and be open to new ideas, because you never know what could happen.
