The Banned Book Teacher

I don’t remember your name, but I remember every lesson that you taught me. When I was young, I LOVED to write, and I took a notebook and pencil around pretty much everywhere with me. My life at home wasn’t always sweet as apple pie, and by the time I got around to high school I probably had a few more issues than I cared to admit. Adults didn’t like me because I had an “attitude” and other people my age had no interest in me because I was kind of a loner. Throughout my childhood I had moved around a lot, and I never had a group of friends that I grew up with. Suddenly, I found myself in the middle of a community where many of my peers had known each other since kindergarten. To say that I felt like an outsider would be putting it mildly.

In the first few days of your class there was nothing notable. You talked about your expectations for the class, you went over the rules and the curriculum much like many other teachers. The year wore on and that’s when we began to get to know you better. Or at least, I did. The first thing that I learned was that you were a little bit of a rebel. The school had recently released a list of books that they were no longer allowing to be a part of the curriculum. One of these books was Speak written by Laurie Halse-Anderson. The book recounts a teens experience with rape and sexual assault and having to face her abusers at school following the incident. It was being banned due to “inappropriate explicit material” and it was one of the first books you made us read in that class.

As a teacher, you taught me to never take anything as gospel just because it came from someone with more power than I had. At the time I didn’t necessarily understand how integral this belief would come to be in my everyday life. We are constantly fed information, especially from people with more power than us, and because I was able to build upon the lessons that you gave me, I can analyze and discern the truth, regardless of filters of power, money, or success.

You weren’t the first person to tell me that I was a great writer, but you were the first person to foster my connection with writing in a new way. You taught me to carry a pencil and notebook around with me everywhere, because inspiration can strike at the most mundane of moments and you’ll never remember it later no matter how hard you try. You pushed my writing to a new level by grading my papers at the level you knew I could be, not the level I was. When I really delivered, you would ask to keep a copy as an example of the assignment for next year’s students.

At a time in my life when I was struggling with so much, I genuinely loved going to your class each day. When I walked into that classroom, my depression would slip away and for an hour of the day I would feel challenged and supported. That class made me believe that I was good at something, when everything in my brain was screaming that I would never be good enough. Your class made me believe in myself and made me believe that if I really wanted it, I would make it as a writer, eventually. You taught me to lean into a natural talent that has proven to be my best form of therapy and has provided me with so many avenues for venting the plethora of emotions I experience on any given day.

You were teaching me more than just high school English; you saw my struggle and you taught me how to cope. So, Mrs. whatever-your-name-was, if you’re out there today, browsing around online and you happen to see this, just know that you made a lasting impact on at least one student, forever.