18 Dec My AP English Teacher Gave Me Back My Love of Reading and Writing

(Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash)

Commentary, Gabbie Munoz

My senior year at Liberty High School in Brentwood was a memorable one. There was so much going on, like being involved in extracurriculars and the stress of knowing that I would be leaving the only world I knew behind. But one person, especially, stood out to me that year: my AP English teacher, Susan Macdonald. 

I went into her class an outsider, not fitting in with the crowd of other AP students who were taking several at once and had been since their freshman year.

I felt stupid amongst them. I felt like I couldn’t compare to them, in my work or in my ability to express my thoughts.

I had voiced these feelings to my teacher early on, and from that day forward, she was one of the most encouraging people I had ever met. She always expressed how proud she was of me for minor accomplishments and always wanted to hear what I had to say, no matter how much I rambled. She always made extra time for me to come in during her office hours, to talk about the book we were reading, or help me with my work. She was also so understanding of my situation and always wanted to work with me, so we could see me succeed.

I remember vividly one day when the class was sharing what their plans were after high school, it seemed like everyone had all of these grand schools they had gotten into and all these scholarships they had gathered. When it got to me, I felt small saying that I planned on attending Los Medanos College for a major I wasn’t fully sure about yet. However, after I had finished, she gave me a smile, one that said she knew it was going to work out for me.

She had the same caring and lovingness that my grandma had before she died. She thought everything I did was the greatest thing simply because I was doing it. It made me want to make her proud, and I pushed myself that year, especially in her class to ensure that I could live up to what she expected.

She pushed me to see my full potential, and she opened up my love of reading and writing again, something that other English classes had stripped away from me. My other English classes were just a grade, nothing more than work from a packet, and words from a book. However, her class was engaging; it made me want to push myself to do more and be more. Whether it was reenacting Shakespeare for the whole class or doing Socratic seminars, there was always something to look forward to. Her class was inspiring, and something I had never experienced before.  

Without her, I don’t know if I would have been as driven as I am now. She made me feel like I could do anything I put my mind to, and because of that, I have seen it in myself.

She made me feel welcomed in a place that I would have shied away from and left immediately, and because of that, whenever I feel the way I first did in that class, I always think of her. She wouldn’t have wanted me to give up, and now I don’t want to see myself give up either.

I’ll always remember the impact she’s left on my life and the urge she created in me to never shy away from things that scare me.

I still keep in touch with her to this day, and every time she tells me she’s proud of me, it leaves the same impact it did the first time.