Reflect for a minute who your favorite teacher was. At times it is difficult to decide, other times; straightforward, and then there are the recollections of really horrid teachers. They can make or break a student’s school year.
For me, my favorite high school teacher was Mrs. Evans. She had blonde hair, a brilliant smile and was the only teacher during my entire schooling that I really connected with.
I was not the finest student; apathetic, sullen, frequently depressed and kept to myself. Mrs. Evans taught home economics. I loathed this subject, as seemed with most every subject, and forced myself daily to attend. The cooking segment of these classes resulted in disaster – as I was no more interested in cooking than I was in geography. The sewing/crafts portion was of little more interest.
It was complex for even me to rationalize the feelings of depression and suicidal thoughts. Who at fifteen or sixteen would wish themselves dead?
Mrs. Evans took me under her wing, as I believe she sensed my struggle with school, made time for chats and also inviting me to her home for sewing lessons. My grades in reality improved with this personal attention, and I was enormously indebted and discovered the depression I felt for so long vanished to a degree.
Filed under: depression, emotional, loneliness, low self-confidence/self-esteem, personal, suicidal feelings, writing
