literary legacy

Every reader can name a book that made a lasting impression on their young mind, and every student can name an educator who made learning a special experience. Friday was a terrible day; conflict popped up again and again, which left me feeling combative and unable to sleep. When I finally got up the next day, I learned that my favorite teacher from high school had passed away. These days, grief isn’t automatic. Sometimes death is an end to suffering and so it’s welcome, and I don’t want anyone I love to suffer any longer than necessary. I hadn’t seen Nancy in some time but I talk and write about her whenever someone asks how I became a writer…how did I find the confidence? when did I decide that was my calling? who gave me permission to live that dream? Nancy Vichert did. I think her English class in the 9th grade was the first time I was ever required to keep a journal; it was the first time I wrote regularly and openly about my complicated home life, and it meant a lot to see her tiny black checkmarks in the margin. Sometimes she would add a brief comment or question, and at least once she kept me after class to make sure I was okay. I wasn’t used to that kind of concern, coming from a family with a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, and it meant a lot. My parents tended to withhold praise so I turned to teachers when I needed validation—and they were always there to support and encourage me. Educators do a lot more than teach; they’re social workers and therapists and surrogate parents. I’ve been fortunate to have had so many “other mothers” in my life. One father was enough but I definitely look to older women for advice and care. Nancy told me I had talent; she made me feel like my voice, my experiences, and my ideas mattered. I wrote in class with the goal of impressing Nancy because her opinion meant a lot to me. She critiqued my work to make it stronger, never to shame me. I was lucky to have Nancy for two of my five years in high school, and I felt blessed to continue our relationship long after graduation. We both loved dessert and enjoyed sharing a meal while looking out over Frenchman’s Bay in Pickering. Nancy shared a brief memoir she wrote about her time in Africa and I hope to one day complete the play it inspired. What a gift she was—to me, her family, friends, and all her other students. I hope I can make as lasting an impression on the young people in my orbit…