A Mentor...Adviser...Guide...or Guru and His Thesaurus
Who's influence sits in a dusty desk drawer, waiting for your thanks?
The beautiful part of relationships, is the encouragement they offer when you're feeling unsure. I spent most of high school thinking I'd just become an elementary teacher. I didn't exactly love the idea, but it was the only plan I felt capable of executing. (To be clear, I think educators are great. It just wasn't my passion).
Red ink on various essays started whispering a different option into my ear. That red ink encouraged me to do what I really wanted to, but had been too afraid to admit to myself or anyone around me.
During my later High School years I had the pleasure of having Mr. Cashman. He had been teaching English for years, and he was revered by every student in the school. Mr. Cashman had the ability to earn our respect without demanding it, and he was also a brilliant teacher. He also started encouraging me as he graded my essays, which meant a lot since he was a self-proclaimed melancholy character.
He allowed us to write both academic and personal pieces, but we had the freedom to choose our content. As a result of his teaching style, I hungered to become better at evoking ideas and emotions through words. He was a tough grader, but that never showed up on my essays. Instead he usually wrote about what parts he liked, ideas that had struck him while reading, and that I should try proof-reading (something I didn't start doing until college - sort of).
One day, during senior year, Mr. Cashman wrote a comment unlike his others. In the margin there his scrawling read "Have you ever considered becoming an English major?" Coming from Mr. Cashman, this was quite a compliment. English classes never felt burdensome to me (unlike math and science courses). Secretly I dreamed of going to college and being able to have a schedule full of classes like this one. This one comment also released a deep desire inside of me. Somehow, I felt validated to not continue fooling myself into a practical scheme just because it was safe. His encouragement is the reason I am not at Millersville, not an ed major, and not pursuing a goal that isn't what I want.
This morning I found a thesaurus he had sent me as a graduation present in the summer of 2013. The book is beautiful, with pristine pages and that fresh ink smell. Inside was the card that came with this gift through the mail:
"Grace, Wishing you all the best as you follow your dreams. Congratulations on your graduation. It's been a blessing watching you use your talents over the years. Your Master is pleased. Thank you for your faithful support. You lifted my spirits many days. Love, Mr. Cashman."
He was a humble educator, but I know there are others, like me, who were influenced by his wisdom. His retirement party was packed with different generations of students, all who had appreciated his guidance.
So what did this teacher show me? The words of our mentors are powerful; they validate our gifts, cultivate our skills, and destroy those fears we disguise as "practicality."
Re-naming my fears as "realistic" or "practical" concerns allows them to destroy what I want to accomplish in life.
So who is that person that encouraged you during a transitioning time? His or her influence may be a dusty gift or memory, but gratitude never ages. Thank the people that teach you how to use a gift, pursue a passion, or make a change while they're in your life. Their chapter in your story (no matter how brief) can ultimately transform the ending of your book.
The beautiful part of relationships, is the encouragement they offer when you're feeling unsure. I spent most of high school thinking I'd just become an elementary teacher. I didn't exactly love the idea, but it was the only plan I felt capable of executing. (To be clear, I think educators are great. It just wasn't my passion).
Red ink on various essays started whispering a different option into my ear. That red ink encouraged me to do what I really wanted to, but had been too afraid to admit to myself or anyone around me.
During my later High School years I had the pleasure of having Mr. Cashman. He had been teaching English for years, and he was revered by every student in the school. Mr. Cashman had the ability to earn our respect without demanding it, and he was also a brilliant teacher. He also started encouraging me as he graded my essays, which meant a lot since he was a self-proclaimed melancholy character.
He allowed us to write both academic and personal pieces, but we had the freedom to choose our content. As a result of his teaching style, I hungered to become better at evoking ideas and emotions through words. He was a tough grader, but that never showed up on my essays. Instead he usually wrote about what parts he liked, ideas that had struck him while reading, and that I should try proof-reading (something I didn't start doing until college - sort of).
One day, during senior year, Mr. Cashman wrote a comment unlike his others. In the margin there his scrawling read "Have you ever considered becoming an English major?" Coming from Mr. Cashman, this was quite a compliment. English classes never felt burdensome to me (unlike math and science courses). Secretly I dreamed of going to college and being able to have a schedule full of classes like this one. This one comment also released a deep desire inside of me. Somehow, I felt validated to not continue fooling myself into a practical scheme just because it was safe. His encouragement is the reason I am not at Millersville, not an ed major, and not pursuing a goal that isn't what I want.
This morning I found a thesaurus he had sent me as a graduation present in the summer of 2013. The book is beautiful, with pristine pages and that fresh ink smell. Inside was the card that came with this gift through the mail:
"Grace, Wishing you all the best as you follow your dreams. Congratulations on your graduation. It's been a blessing watching you use your talents over the years. Your Master is pleased. Thank you for your faithful support. You lifted my spirits many days. Love, Mr. Cashman."
He was a humble educator, but I know there are others, like me, who were influenced by his wisdom. His retirement party was packed with different generations of students, all who had appreciated his guidance.
So what did this teacher show me? The words of our mentors are powerful; they validate our gifts, cultivate our skills, and destroy those fears we disguise as "practicality."
Re-naming my fears as "realistic" or "practical" concerns allows them to destroy what I want to accomplish in life.
So who is that person that encouraged you during a transitioning time? His or her influence may be a dusty gift or memory, but gratitude never ages. Thank the people that teach you how to use a gift, pursue a passion, or make a change while they're in your life. Their chapter in your story (no matter how brief) can ultimately transform the ending of your book.
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