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My Tenth Grade English Teacher Destroyed my Love for Writing

My most embarrassing moment summed up into words.

By Jasmine Published 2 years ago 6 min read
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My Tenth Grade English Teacher Destroyed my Love for Writing
Photo by Jackson Simmer on Unsplash

This article was originally posted on Medium.

When I was seven years old, I knew I wanted to become a writer.

I loved reading, writing, and telling stories. The power of a pen was unimaginable; you could create new worlds, give rise to passionate emotions, and explore new adventures. Reading a book was like an escape for me. When reality felt complicated, I retreated to my favorite books.

I could sit for hours reading the same book over and over again. While I was reading, it was like a movie was playing inside my head. Putting a book down unfinished was the hardest part.

I used to write my own stories.

My love for reading quickly turned into a love for writing. At one point, I began writing my own stories. My mom's severely outdated Toshiba laptop became my new best friend.

Reading, writing, and storytelling were the things I loved most.

Fast forward to sophomore year; this is where the trauma begins.

My reading and writing scores weren't the best but not the worst. We had to write a descriptive and detailed piece of writing. I recall writing about the sport I participated in, water polo. I wrote about how the sun felt on my skin, and it went something like this -

The sun beaded down on my skin…

I don't remember much of what I wrote, but this line is the most important.

Initially, I thought we were turning in our work to the teacher so she could look it over in private. However, I was gravely mistaken; instead, we passed them to our neighbors so they could read them out loud to the class.

I remember feeling so anxious and nervous. As a sophomore, I had zero confidence in myself or my work, so you can imagine how I felt after this class had ended.

To make things worse, my neighbor raised her hand to participate first. I immediately began to melt away in my seat.

I remember her reading it out loud, it felt like time was going in slow motion. The teacher paused on every mistake I'd made.

My teacher laughed and made fun of each mistake. The last line, the one I told you to remember -

The sun beaded down on my skin…

The teacher emphasized the word beaded, started laughing while banging her fist on her desk. She looked like she was having a jolly good time at the goddamn comedy club.

I never forgot what she said after the fact.

Who writes like this?

Is this person serious?

I always get a dud student every year.

The frog in my throat felt like it was going to explode at any minute. At that point, I wanted to run away, change schools, and move across the country.

The one thing that saved me was that my teacher never asked who had written it. At that moment, I felt so stupid, ashamed, humiliated, and embarrassed.

After this happened, I went home to delete all the stories on my laptop. I threw out my journals, and along with it, my dream to become a writer.

That day, it felt like a hole had punched through my heart. By the time I got home, I was bleeding out all over the floor.

The little confidence that I had obliterated within an hour. Those words had impacted me for years to come. For years I doubted my skill, ideas, quality of work, and capability.

The stains from that experience didn't wash out for the next four years.

Two years ago, an angel rekindled my love for reading, writing, and speaking. Slowly my wounds began to heal. Despite how belittling and traumatizing this was, I'm grateful for the lessons it taught me.

(1) Words are powerful.

We all remember the good things people say to us, but we also do an excellent job remembering the bad. I can recall this experience so clearly in my mind. I remember the emotions, the thoughts that ran through my mind, and how they impacted me as an individual.

I was young and still had so much to learn. It's experiences like this that set you up for the rest of your life. I stopped writing and reading. This experience led me to bury the things I loved most.

When you're young, you take hurtful words to heart. We're taught to accept the word of adults without question. We believe that the most hurtful words can have truth within them.

Before I speak words into existence, it has to pass through three gates -

Is it true?

Is it necessary?

And is it kind?

I have to be mindful of what, when, and how I communicate my words. If I'm not careful, I could cause more damage than I'm capable of realizing.

(2) Perfection is impossible.

This experience laid the foundation of my fear of failure. As a student, I was obsessed with perfecting everything. I studied so hard to become perfect that I stopped taking care of myself. I stood awake for hours studying, perfecting, and worrying relentlessly.

If I failed, it automatically meant that I was dumb, stupid, and incapable. When I failed, I threw myself into the darkest hole, and there I tormented myself with negative thoughts repeatedly.

It took me quite a bit of time to overcome my fear of failure. Eventually, I learned that failure is a necessary part of the journey and perfection is impossible to achieve.

(3) Negative people are a part of the journey.

If there's one group of people that's never going away, it's the negative ones. Two things matter when it comes to dealing with negative people and situations: your perception and reaction.

Looking back on my embarrassing moment, it was clear my teacher was having a great time making fun of young adults. She didn't have the mature mindset of an academic professional. She made herself feel good by hurting others.

As I got older, I understood the importance of knowing who I was. Because I didn't know myself, it left me easily susceptible to hurtful words. Those negative words planted a seed inside of me. Over the years, it had grown and manifested into something toxic.

The best way to defend yourself from negativity is to close off your mind and heart. When you're young, you see the world for all of its beauty. There's a light that burns bright within you, and people will try to destroy it. You have to protect that light with everything in your power.

From now on, I plan on writing everything.

No matter how small or insignificant. My words matter, and I'm here to write them into existence.

Embarrassment
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About the Creator

Jasmine

Mindful perspectives, strategies, and solutions.

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  • Buddica2 years ago

    For a teacher to do something like that is sad to hear. They are there to help us correct our mistakes, but she put them on display and didn’t offer any constructive criticism. I’m happy to know that you have rekindled that love for writing! Thanks for sharing.

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