A Real Teacher

Not everyone can say that they've had the privileged of meeting and listening to an inspiring lecture by a teacher. Today, I did. I've always loved my English classes and teachers, but this one surpasses every single one I've come across. Ms. Ellis has a way with words. She encourages us to do the most we can to earn our college credits from her class (that's a typical lecture, right?). I suppose my class didn't realize that no one stayed back to talk to her or ask her for clarification or help with any of the assignments after class.

The 'reward time' after the bell rings isn't quite lunch time. Its an opportunity to stay in the class your in, and ask for help. Its an opportunity to tell her what your struggling with. And its a rare gift that the school offers. Its a rare gift that Ms. Ellis offers. And no one had been taking that chance. She told us during the next class that passing the test at the end of the year could save us up to 2400 dollars in later fees and tuition. "You could buy a lot with that money," She smiles. And dang, you sure can.

Her story was that she came to teach at our school because she grew up in the area, and she wanted to teach US. She put into perspective that her own little children would grow up in a world let by me, and by my classmates. She told us that she was teaching our class because she wants us to succeed, and be good people. She recognized her own achievements and told us that we all have that same potential as English majors, or whatever else we want to be, no matter what town or area we are from. She promised us that where we are now will not hold us back unless we allow it to. And that we could be smarter and more successful than her if we chose to do the work.

That's a lot to take in. 

Not only did I feel a very strong responsibility to be part of a generation that would be constructive and safe for her kids, but I also felt that for the first time, I was able to completely connect with and appreciate the motives and intentions of my instructor. After her talk with us, she corrected and talked to me about my assignment. I was able to feel like she genuinely wanted me to do the best that I was capable of, all while keeping it as my own work. My essay didn't become something else through her instruction, and it wasn't squeezed from the textbook or curriculum. She taught me and showed me how to make my own paper more respectable.

And that's a real teacher.

-MereLynx

 

Finishing a Project

I have to state that one of the most disappointing things to me is realizing that I have no interest in something that was once my ambition. At some point in life, we all decide that there is one thing or another that we wish to accomplish before we die. Or perhaps a career we hope to work towards and obtain. Having known this from whatever age that we recognized it at, its a rather shocking, if not devastating moment when you find that a passion for that path has been lost.

Having said this, I would admit that this has just recently happened to me. Ever since I was in about sixth grade, I simply dreamed of becoming an author. I spend hours upon hours reading into the most engaging books. I enjoyed mystery- any book that was not in any way predictable. I admired writers that could take you completely by surprise, with a 'plot twist' at every corner. I wanted to BE that kind of author. In all honesty, who could blame me? Writing, especially poetry, is often introduced as a spectacular field of art. Some people would argue that a well written book was one of the larger forms of art pieces that an individual may create. I knew, of course, that a well composed novel may take even a few years to weave together. I had marvelous ideas and conflicts.. entire universes in my mind that I wanted to reveal to an editor, and eventually, a publisher.

The first couple attempts, of course, I would work for months, endlessly determined in my feat for greatness and fame. I wanted recognition. I read stories of famous young writers, and I aspired to be the next. It wasn't until a few years ago though, that I finally succeeded in having an entire draft completed. It still required a good rewrite, but I was convinced that it would be absolutely loved by all sorts of readers across the country, if not the world.

I was later suggested by a friend that most authors let a finished manuscript sit for about a year before trying to rewrite and publish it. I am about 3 months into that year, and now... I have lost interest.

And here, dearest readers, is where I have begun to hope and beg that someday, when that year is up, I will again open that book, and my determination will be rekindled. Will I ever be as engaged in my own work again? Will it sit forever, unread, and unpublished?

Here is when I say, "I sure as heck hope not." Even though we may let go or turn our heads from a project, we had still dedicated hours, days, maybe even months or years to this purpose. I have seen my friends give up on things that I could only pray to have to talent to do. So I beg you, if there is something that you have given up on, or lost interest in that you have created... your talent, and who you are as a person LIVES within the art you create. Even if you think it is not worth finishing, your effort alone has the potential to inspire anyone who sees its humble beginnings. 

Live Creatively,

MereLynx

Be a Friend, its the Bomb! (HC edition)

I would be sad if this blog be came more of a public diary. I'd like to be able to promise that it will become more interactive and enjoyable than that. Who knows though, maybe my dearest readers would enjoy to read about the fantastical happenings of my everyday life. So here, a story for today.


As some of you might know, the typical high school 'homecoming' dance is coming up this season, and this week has been full of the typical stories of, "with you go with me" questions popped from every turn of the corner in the hallways. Most of the time, everyone enjoys this time of year. Except for a few many girls that are simply convinced that they won't be asked. One of which, was a friend of mine. Now, some people may know that we girls happen to be a little hard to persuade one way or another, and I could not convince her that any boy would be downright dumb not to ask her. Long story short, I was right. And boy, was that HC-proposal the 'bomb'. Literally. My friend Jared, who had wanted to ask her, set up the most glorious display. On a poster within her slightly crammed locker was a phrase that read somewhere along the lines of, "Homecoming with you would be the bomb!" Not only this, but confetti poppers had been taped to her locker wall, with the strings strategically pasted to the swinging door. Consequently, when she opened her locker this morning... POW! A generous and lovely explosion of confetti caught her by surprise.


Now of course, it was wonderful to know she was so happy about being asked, but even as I gushed with happiness for her... I am yet to be asked myself.


And here is where my real story begins. Its entirely different to try and convince your friend that she will be asked, than it is to convince yourself. Now sure, I've been hanging with guys I'd be happy to go with, but none of which are anything close to the kind of guy I had always thought I'd go to homecoming with. I mean, when you've moved every couple years for your whole life, and you just got to a new school where everyone else has been going for their whole lives... it seems like everyone already knows each other, and heck, why would they go with someone they've never met? Someone like me?


People sometimes see the new-kids as .. not so genuine. You meet students, chill with them every day, but you know you'll move again, so you 'try not to get too attached'. And dang, I'm not gonna lie. Sometimes, that's true. Especially when you're only going to live somewhere for a year or so... why make it harder for yourself to say goodbye, right? But hey, little do these people know, that even though I just got here, my dad just retired. I'm staying here as far as I know, and wow... Their lack of interest in the new-girl hurts. Because, the first days of school, it really took everything I had to get anyone to pay any attention to me. Do I have to announce that I've lived in other countries and across multiple oceans for anyone to want to talk to me? REALLY?


So yeah, back to homecoming. Its gonna take some desperate guy to ask me, it seems. But hey, regardless of my own situations, I can guarantee that any friend of mine is going to know just how special and wonderful they are. Because obviously, if they took the time and they're nice enough to say hi to me, and become my friend in the first place, they're one irresistible person to have in just about anyone's life.


Be a Friend to Everyone, We Notice,


MereLynx