How One Teacher Altered My Course

When you're young, you have no idea who inspires you to become greater than what you realize you are. You're focused on your friends, your favorite toys, and what you enjoy doing. You don't think about who inspires you to change your life and pursue something that you'd never even really dreamed of.

From the time I was in Grade 4, I knew that I wanted to be a writer. I had no idea if I was even any good, but I loved words and I loved writing stories, and like most kids that age, I was convinced that I was going to be what I loved to do when I grew up. In Grade 4, though, you don't really think practically. You don't think about things like salary, or ability to pay for rent or mortgages or whether or not your parents even want you living in their house when you are an adult.

I digress.

Flash forward seven years. I had returned with my family from a four year stint living on a Canadian military base in Lahr, West Germany - back when West Germany still existed. I was a tall, somewhat awkward and very definitely somewhat introverted sort of teenager, though I was completely comfortable around adults. My parents registered my sister and I in local schools in Grand Centre (part of what is now Cold Lake), Alberta, and I was heading into Grade 11 in the local high school. One of my first classes was an advanced English class with Miss Kugelstadt, and given how much I enjoyed English, I was looking forward to it.

It turns out this was the class that would change my life. I'd always gotten on well with my teachers; I was a motivated student who always achieved honor roll status, and teachers knew I was willing to work. Teachers like that in their students, strangely enough. Anyways, I remember being at first surprised as to just how young Miss K seemed at the time, as she only seemed a few short years older than I was. Every last English teacher I'd had previously was the same age as my parents, and quite honestly, Miss K blew me away with how knowledgeable she was about everything we were discussing in that class, and how willing she was to learn more, if she could. I'd never really seen that before in a teacher, and it was one of the first things that made me excited about going to her class.

Miss K also instantly hooked me with her unbridled enthusiasm for the literature we were studying, her clear love of words, and the way she made me really think about what we were doing with each piece of literature or each essay we wrote. I'd never really had an English teacher do that previously, not the way she did, and after a while, I found myself reconsidering my idea of becoming a writer when I was an adult.

I wasn't completely willing to let the writing dream die, though. For the first time, I saw something in an adult that inspired me to trust her with my writing - something I'd never done, even with my parents, and mustering every last bit of courage I had, I asked Miss K if she'd be willing to look over a short story I had been writing. Not only did she seem interested, she was also willing and eager to provide feedback to help me become a better writer. It was feedback that really made sense to me, too; it went far beyond the "this is really good" feedback I typically got from my friends and gave me direction about what I could do to make it even better. She actually had a discussion with me about things I could do to, as she put it, bring her into the story. Miss K encouraged me to view writing as not just a visual experience, but one that engaged all the senses, and even now, if I'm writing fiction, I can hear her encouraging me to do exactly that.

I was completely shocked that she'd taken the time to engage with me about something I loved the way I love writing. It was because of her that I began to consider becoming a teacher, so I could pass on that love of literature and of the English language to my own students.

Unfortunately, her partner was military, and Miss K ended up moving out of the area shortly after that memorable year was over. I lost track of her for many years, as one does with people in our lives on occasion, and went on to attain my Bachelor of Education degree at the University of Alberta and become an English and French teacher. I often wondered what happened to her - at least, until Facebook came along.

On a whim, I looked her up, and was stunned to realize that she'd had three kids, two of whom were grown. She's also raising a son who has autism and continues to fight hard for every support her boy deserves. I was fortunate enough to discover that she was now in the Ottawa area and reached out, quickly making arrangements to meet for coffee the next time I hit the Ottawa area.

It's seldom that you get to cross paths with your heroes twice. It's even rarer that you get to introduce your children to the person who helped you become the person you are. Yet, just over a year ago, around Christmas 2018, that's exactly what happened.

It's hard to articulate exactly what it means to come face to face once again with someone who was, in reality, in your life for such a brief moment in time but played such a significant role. We had both grown; we were colleagues instead of teacher and student now. I learned of the important work she was doing, supporting her son and working with others so that kids with autism have the supports they need so they can be successful. I was quietly awed by her strength and so very happy that she was able to squeeze me, a former student from several lifetimes ago, into her busy schedule.

I try daily to use the lessons that she probably didn't know she was teaching me in my personal and professional lives. I work hard to demonstrate to my students - and to my own children - the passion that I have that I remember seeing in her when I was first in her classroom. It was a remarkable experience being in her classroom, and even more remarkable that we can continue to reach out now.