I was about to write a blog on a poem that was quoted by one amazing/crazy/amazing preacher who was at church on Sunday BUT thinking about the poem spurred me on to think of other things. I’ll save that for the next diary entry.

Poetry.

I grew up hating poetry. I thought it was soooo boring, so bland, so dry. (Now I cringe as I see those words teamed with poetry.)

I didn’t fall in love with poetry until I stepped into English 12. I remember saying, “I hate poetry” when my eccentric, little, Jewish English 12 teacher announced we’d be starting the poetry unit. I remember her saying something like, “How dare you say that about poetry!” or “That is a sad statement.” Actually, I have no idea what she said, but what I do know is that I left English 12 with my heart sparkling to the moon over poetry. I even signed up for English Literature with that same teacher where I could binge on the classics…mmmm it was bliss.

This got me thinking about teachers and how much influence they can have on us.

Teachers.

There are certain attributes in me that were instilled when I was a young fresh mind. I discovered my love for writing when I was 8 years old in Mrs. Samuelson’s grade 3 class. She made us write stories and I believe I wrote my first novel ‘Ahoy Mate’, (which was 10 whole pages!) in that class. It was followed by its sequel ‘Ahoy Mate 2’.

In one of those elementary grades I read ‘The Secret World of Og’. It was like creativity entered into my soul through each page I read.

Mr. Shear (incorrect spelling) was my grade 5 teacher. In his class, I discovered my love for Victoria. I have vivid memories of field trips consisting of discovering where the original Fort posts were, Rogers Chocolates, Ross Bay Cemetery (which is a very important place in the novel I’m currently writing). Learning the stories behind each place, building, grave made me appreciate the depths of our city. A love was birthed there.

Another love was birthed in grade 6. In Mrs. Sinclair’s class, I fell in love with reading. I can’t even remember how or why it started but it was a grade 5/6 split, where grade six was the smaller portion of the class. A hunger for reading books arose inside of me and ever since that year, I need to always be immersed in a book.

These teachers were monumental in my life. They probably don’t remember me but I cannot forget them and I cannot thank them enough. As I finish this post, it popped into my head why I learned certain things from them…they were passionate. Their passions showed and were contagious. Their passion spread to me and it made all the difference.

Side note- clearly I was not as passionate about spelling as I saved this document as ‘an enducation’ ha.

Stay gold my dear friends…stay gold,

s.s.♥.