Every once in a while one of those magic moments comes along that just blows you away. A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to breakfast by two of my former students. These precious young ladies are sisters–one in college, the other will graduate from high school in a couple of weeks. We spent almost 3 hours at LePeep eating, talking, drinking coffee, catching up with news, and discussing future plans. What delicious fun!

The older sister shared with me about a writing class she had taken and how much she had enjoyed it. She pulled out a journal that was part of her class assignment, handed it to me, and said, “I want you to read this. Not now; take it with you. You can give it back to me later.” She is an excellent writer; I always love reading her work and have helped her prepare pieces for competitions. I still get chills when I think of a conversational piece she did about what transpired in hell the day Christ rose from the dead.

Out-of-town company was coming to my home that day, so I scurried home, and the journal was laid aside. Finally, a few days later, I picked it up and began to read. Yes, this was definitely the writing of my student. Her immaculate choice of words, her writing style, her deep insights–I recognized her voice.

Delighting in the familiar warmth of her words, I read of her plans for a nursing career. But, because she has many talents and interests, she was weighing all her options. As I read further, I understood why she wanted me to read her journal.

“Becoming an English major is a considerable option because I like to write stories, essays, personal ideas, and thoughts. Two of my friends are English majors, and I had a wonderful English teacher, named Mrs. (insert my name), who was and who still is an absolutely favorite influence in improving my writing. She taught me how to be descriptive in my writing and how to improve my essays even after she stopped being my teacher.”

Wow! I couldn’t read for the tears. When my vision finally cleared, I read her teacher’s response written in the margin: “It’s so good to hear that you had a positive experience and a great teacher. Many people don’t, and that’s why they ‘hate’ English.”

There is just no feeling that matches this when you realize that you have had an impact on someone’s life. For the good. I loved teaching, helping students discover their talents and skills.

And she made me think of my 11th grade English teacher who helped me hone my writing skills. I wasn’t crazy about his literature class, but I loved to write. This teacher saw my ability and encouraged it. I did a lot of extra writing that year, which he very generously took home and critiqued when he wasn’t grading papers, teaching me to find my voice and to be a better writer.

Thank you, Mr. Hon.

Thank you, my friend, for sharing your journal and for your precious compliments. Whether you major in English or not, I know that you will help others find their voices as well. You have the gift. Pass it on!