In homage to my high school english teachers, Ms. Kohl and Mrs. Williams

In the interests of disclosure I must admit this: I am 80% of the way through a bottle of 'Two Buck Chuck.' They just opened a Trader Joe's here in town, and I admit I am partaking in their unexpectedly tasty wine selection.

Carol Williams. Vicki Kohl. While these names may not be immortalized in the annals of greatness, the fact that more than a decade after I had them as teachers I remember their names should alone stand as a to testament them. The women were, among other greater things, my junior and senior year English teachers. Here's the rub: I don't remember a damn thing they taught me.
Well, that's not entirely true. I remember sitting in Mrs. Williams class my junior year, reading through "Our Town" by Thornton Wilder. At the time it was all pomp and rote. I was there because science class wasn't for another hour. Yet a year later I'd land the lead, "George Gibbs", when the school put on the play. And without portraying George in the school play, would I have as much self-confidence? "Listen Emily, I'm going to tell you why I'm not going to Agriculture School. I think when you've found a person you're fond of..."
As for Ms. Kohl (senior year, AP English), I still remember her fateful words. The scene was thus: having just had my front tooth replaced (again) I was feeling a little antsy. At some point my (borderline ADD) self stood up and gesticulated...God only knows what. Ms. Kohl, with the voice like a harpy snapped "SIT DOWN, YOU HYPERACTIVE WEIRDO! QUIT ACTING LIKE A MAD BANSHEE!"
Ms. Kohl, you prophetess. A decade later I am still the same weirdo, and my daughter shows more than a little likeness for the familial trait of being a "mad banshee." If you do not retire soon, you may have to face her.
It would be seven years later, after I escaped those two women, that I'd sit down and write a 140 page master's thesis. Another four years, and I would make a name for myself at work as "an engineer who can actually write." My boss, at my promotion, would tell me to "expect to spend at least 20% of your time writing proposals, because you are a damn good writer."

While I can credit (justifiably) my mother with my ability to read...I must give credit where credit's due for my ability to write. And that skill was turned from clumsy to "language art" by those two women. Even now, with my head swimming admirably (mom probably does not find my swimming head admirable), I can write with a gusto and skill that many people lack. Is it because I am unusually gifted? Or is it because I was blessed with two especially amazing teachers, who subtly and successfully prodded into my brain the intricacies of the English language, and then made me practice it, essay after essay? I humbly submit it is because of the latter.

Ms. Kohl. Mrs. Williams. I never thanked you for the obviously underrated education you gave me at the time, because I was a sniveling teenager who saw no value in it. Believe me, I see it now. So thank you. Thank you for giving me C's on things. Thank you for challenging me. Thank you for doing your job. Thank you for doing it well. And please forgive any grammar mistakes I have made in this post.


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