I wasn't too worried, since the class was the best one I've ever taught. Still, I was delighted when she told me that I had written that if she went on to be a published writer that I would buy every book she ever wrote. I've continued to read her work, and I stand by that comment, 20 years later.
In that Victorian Lit class, I gave the students lots of freedom in what they wrote. They could write traditional essays that analyzed one of the works we'd been reading. But they could also write a creative work of some kind, as long as it was a response to the literature. So, for example, one student wrote a series of poems about losing her mother to Alzheimer's, and she did it in the style of Tennyson's "In Memoriam." Their creative works were stunning and proved my point that one can learn as much about the literature by writing a creative piece as by writing an analytical piece.
My friend said that she had kept my comment on her essay, that she cut out the comment and put it above her writing desk, where it has inspired her and kept her going. Wow.
Our conversation reminded me of a long ago student evaluation of me, back when I was a grad student who had only ever taught a class or two. I don't remember many of my evaluations in specific detail, but I remember this one. The student wrote, "I hope this teacher goes on to write a book. I would love to read it." How delightful.
I am not the first to observe how our words carry weight, weight that we may or may not perceive. It's my prayer each day, that my words not be wounding.
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