I was 10 years old when I realized that writing could be used as a form of expression and personal enjoyment.
My fifth grade reading teacher, Mrs. Howard explained that each day she would come up with a writing prompt that the class was required to respond to in our 1-subject notebooks, otherwise known as my journal — something that would quickly become the one thing I knew I could look forward to each day when I went to school.
I was quiet in school, but always felt I had something to say. Not only did this journal give me an opportunity to do so, but it made me feel like I actually had a purpose and a reason for my rambling. After time, I had decided that I needed a journal of my own that was to be used outside of school. I ended up receiving one through my friend who had decided that she was going to accompany me and write in a journal as well.
“My mom gave me ten dollars for this journal thing and I have five dollars left,” she said. “I don’t know what else to spend it on, so here.”
With the extra money, I purchased my first journal.
Later that day, I was so excited that I started writing about my day while riding the bus home. Now, nearly 10 years later, I can say with confidence that I have been writing non-stop since that bus ride home.
When I first started writing, I was young and naïve. I would write about the things I ate for dinner, how my parents were so annoying because they didn’t understand me and how boys were stupid.
As I got older, I started writing about things that really meant something to me. If something made me upset, I would write about it. If something made me happy, I would write about it. And if I found something that caught my attention and I needed to look into it, I would write about it. I got into the ritual of writing every night and I could see myself progressing.
My handwriting was improving every year, my sentence structures were clear and the content made sense. With writing, I was able to get my emotions out and it helped to make sense of my surroundings.
I had also started to branch off and write poems — my imagination went to places I did not know I was capable of. I would spend days at school almost obsessing and finding ways to create what I wanted on paper.
Recently I was informed that, Mrs. Howard, the teacher who had introduced me to this new form of expression and enjoyment, is retiring after the school year’s end.
Not only did this make me upset because I realized that her time as a teacher has come to an end, but it made me understand that a real teacher has an impact on a student that can last for years.
Not only did Mrs. Howard introduce me to writing, but she also gave me skills to critically think about what I wanted to create. She always encouraged me and told me that if I kept writing I would be sure to do something great with it one day.
I am not sure that I would be where I am today if it was not for my fifth grade teacher. And I think about it often. It is important to remember your past, because it helps to define your future.