And so today’s moment of happiness despite the news.
Today on Facebook, I was featured on a special page for the 50th anniversary of my graduating high school – Waukesha North High School in Waukesha, Wisconsin. I am on North’s “Wall of Stars”. According to Waukesha North, those nominated for the Wall of Stars “must have demonstrated citizenship during and after high school, and must have made a significant contribution to the community and society.”
Honestly, among the awards I’ve received, it’s the one which means the most to me.
I say graduating high school, instead of simply “high school”, because I went to three schools. I was in one for freshman and sophomore year, one for first semester junior year, and finally, Waukesha North for second semester junior year and then senior year. By the time I got to Waukesha North, I was one angry and depressed kid.
But that landing place was perfect for me.
I very clearly remember walking through the high school for the first time, during Christmas break, so that I could get registered and sign up for classes. I thought, What the hell is this? The school was developed as “open concept” – which meant the rooms were movable, made of partition walls that could be rearranged in shape and in size. The partitions were colorful, but they didn’t go up to the ceiling, which meant when you were in one class, you could easily see into the class next door and hear what was going on. There were also gaps here and there, which made it exceedingly easy to slip out of class when the teacher’s back was turned.
Not that I ever did that. Noooo.
But when I saw the class listings, my eyes about popped out of my head. I already knew I wanted to be a writer. I already knew I WAS a writer. Plus, anything to do with reading enthralled me. This school had the usual menu, but then there were all these extras: writing classes like creative writing and journalism, and literature classes like Mystery & the Macabre, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Growing Up In Literature & Reality. For someone like me, this was a buffet! An all you can read and write buffet!
The very first class I walked into was creative writing. It was the class that changed my life and changed me forever.
Because suddenly…I excelled.
At Waukesha North, at least at that time, the arts carried just as much weight as sports, if not more. The art and music departments were phenomenal. And in the English Department – I was taken seriously. My dreams and ambitions were taken seriously. There was a literary magazine. There was also a school paper, and I quickly became involved in both. My creative writing teacher encouraged me to submit a story to the literary magazine, and I did. One afternoon, when I was in the media center, writing, he came to find me and showed me a comment on my submission. It was from one of the other students involved in producing the magazine. The comment said, “This story goes in the magazine or I quit!”
Oh, man.
The school built me up. It made me feel like I was worth something. My teachers praised me, but also pushed me. At one point, I remember I had to write a short story for both the creative writing class and for Growing Up In Literature & Reality. I asked to be able to write the same story for both classes. My creative writing teacher was the one who made the decision, while my literature teacher waited in deference. “No,” my teacher said. “You’re more than capable. Write two stories. And knock us both dead.”
I didn’t think I could do it. But “Yes, sir,” I said. It was what he expected of me. And then I did it.
And then came the critique that pretty much set the tone for the rest of my life. I swear I felt my brain pivot, and then I looked out of eyes that were filled with a new perspective.
In this critique, my creative writing teacher told me I had a gift, which felt to me like a miracle, which felt like a gift he was giving me, because he said it to me and he meant it. He meant it! But with that gift, he said, came responsibility. The gift was worthless unless I used it. And I had to use it. I couldn’t let myself stop. He said there would be times I would be miserable, but it would be all right. I had to be responsible. I had to live up to what I could do.
Kind of like what I’ve been feeling since June 19th of this year.
Teachers change lives. Mine was changed by this man. And it was changed by this school. Actually, it was more than change. My life was saved. More than once.
Having someone in my life who believes in me, has believed in me, and will always believe in me is a positive force I treasure. While my teacher, now my friend, believes in me, there’s one thing that takes it even further: he refuses to expect anything less than what he believes I can accomplish.
“You are fully capable…” he says, no matter what I ask and doubt.
And he’s saying it to me now too.
“Yes, sir.”
And the school is still behind me. On January 18th, one day after the anniversary of Michael’s accident that eventually took his life, I will be giving copies of all 15 of my books for Waukesha North’s library. I am giving back, in the best way that I can. I wish I could do more.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
