Dear English Teacher

Mid-July, and I'm sorry to say I'm doing just as poorly as before, if not more so. You told me to email you if i needed to vent, and I find that I can't even do that; I feel I need an excuse to contact you, because why would you want to hear from a downer like me? The sad part is, I know you wouldn't ever think that about me, and you are only concerned. It's me though; it has always been my fault, you know, this kind of thing. I get down on myself enough times, and eventually I come to believe the horrid slander that seemingly constantly occupies my mind is truth. Honest to god, I believe it with all my heart. That is why I can't bring myself to dump more burden onto anyone else's shoulders, even if it means prolonging my life.

I know you wouldn't like to hear that either. You've always contested my view of myself, even when it was unintentional on my part to reveal such to you, and said how I was such a clever girl. Yeah, easy to appear clever in a class of seriously average, mildly dim-witted teenagers whose deepest thoughts pan out to be what their plans for this weekend are and how they hate their ex-boyfriend/girlfriend, or how they got so drunk last weekend. I also know that most of these kids respected me, at least in the setting of our loud, sometimes haphazard english class, and did look to me as the voice of reason at times. The truth is, your class is the only one I liked, despite a few crying episodes from the back corner and some seriously scarcastic remarks. I think you know that though, because I never made it a secret that I loved english, only that I loved the class as well.

Looking back on the past year, I can't imagine how you could ever consider me to be a smart girl. Honestly, I'm throwing my life away, and I can't say depression is a valid excuse for such. I'm imfamous, we both know it. It's funny, really. Everyone comes to me with their stories of weekend exploits, because surely everyone knows about my suspensions, not to mention trouble with the law. The sad thing is, I haven't stopped, or slowed. No, see, the way I figure, I'm not going to make it past age 20 (at the oldest). I'm never going to make it to an age where what I do is acceptable, if that even exists, so I might as well live while I can. As you said, some people can afford to lose brain cells, and some people cannot. Despite that, I know that my actions just add to my pending downfall.

I've been put on, and taken myself off of, an antidepressant already. I just didn't feel like me on it, and I know you would understand what I mean when I say that. Yes, I remember the conversation we had about feeding depression, and I know I must play right into it. And yet, I find myself thinking about death constantly. The medicine didn't help that; in actuality, it just made me consider it more seriously. I know what you would say, that this gets better, that once I get out of high school and make it into the real world things will be right for me, and that other people have made it out of this too. The problem is, I just don't see myself being strong enough to bear this much longer. I'm weak, and I hurt the people who love me. Most people never change, and I don't see myself as one of the exceptions to any extent. I know talking to you would help, but I really can't bring myself to contact you.

I hope your summer is going smoothly, and am still grateful for your encouragement to send me into honors next year. English my only non-honors last year, and it wasn't because I didn't have the grade to get into honors; in a self-typical way, I happily contributed to my under accheving. Despite that, I am so grateful to have been a student under your direction, and wouldn't change my decision to be in English II for any dollar amount or bribery of illicit substances. That was the most painful thing, really, how you knew I could be such an amazing student, yet I failed to even attempt it. I missed handing in major projects, inculding the midterm, and came to your class more than a few times mentally altered. You knew that; I don't think you were angry either. I just want to make you aware that I understand how my self-sabatoge hurt you and that I am so infinitely sorry for it.

If I don't make it, I hope someone recognizes my letter and directs you to it. I know, apon reading it, one person who would probably know not only who I am, but who I am refering to as "English Teacher," and I know she would give this to you if I asked her to. If not, I could always mention it in my suicide note, simply to bring it to her attention, and she would follow through for me. I would hope that this wouldn't hurt you more, and that you could some how understand what I mean when I say that I can't continue on in this manner. I know you wouldn't be angry at me, and if at all, only at a wasted life and possible future interrupted. Please, forgive me and this. I know this may all seem heavy, so I'm sorry, but I just had to let you know how I feel.

Thanks for crossing the teacher-student boundries and trying to reach out to me, because it really did help. You were an amazing teacher, and despite anything anyone might say or what you might think, you're not a "soft" teacher. It was a joy to be your student, and you taught me some things I don't think I'll ever forget. Thank you for all you've done.

Dear Cleo Phillips

of Rogers Middle School
Spencer, OK

I have to admit, I don't remember much from our textbook of your American Civics class. But I remember you and the life lessons you taught us.

1) Out of all you're getting, get an understanding.

2) If you don't like the way something is done in your community, change it.

3) If you don't vote, you have no right to complain about the way things turn out.

I am an adult now with a family and a mortgage and a community that I feel responsible for. It is you I credit for teaching me that my participation matters, that my opinion matters and that I am smart enough to make a difference.

I've tried to find you to thank you in person for what you did for me and my other classmates 23 years ago, but you've disappeared. It's a shame, because you deserve to be remembered. You should know that you made a wonderful difference in the life of that 12 year old girl.

Those were tough times at a tough school with no money. No doubt many teachers today face the same obstacles. But you are proof that the quality and character of teachers matter far more than what our education budgets show and that even unruly, ungrateful children can become productive, appreciative adults if they just have adults like you who believe in them and are willing to stand firm when others would walk away.

Wherever you are Mr. Phillips, THANK YOU. I hope you see this.

Dear Bitchy Parents

I am a high school teacher and I am sick and tired of hearing about how it is my fault that your student is doing poorly in my class. Do you know your children? Have you ever witnessed how they act when you are not around? They are terrors from hell a good majority of the time. Your child probably craves attention from his classmates so bad because you don't give it to him at home. Yes, I would be much happier if your child were home-schooled because then you could ATTEMPT to teach them too. I love my job but it is kids like yours that make me wonder why the heck I put myself through the torture.

Do you honestly think that with 25 students in a classroom for 50 minutes 6 times a day that I have time to monitor your son/daughter every minute of the day to make sure he/she is doing what he/she is supposed to be doing? I would much rather focus on my students that aren't annoying pains-in-my-ass that are actually here to learn.

Quit blaming the stinking school systems for failing your children when you obviously are a horrible parent that will never let your kid take any of the blame for being a complete ass day in and day out. I probably make half of what you do (yes, please tell me you have a degree too, it makes you sound soooo much smarter) while I babysit your brat, so don't even complain to me about not being at home enough. I TAKE MY WORK HOME EVERYDAY! There is no such thing as "Leave it at the office" in this profession.

So please, do me a favor- with all your extra money, come build a two way mirror into my room so you can see how much restraint it takes on my part not to slap your kid silly on a daily basis. Until you can do that, keep your mouth shut and let me do my job, without interference from you because you got your grade report a week late (shouldn't your kid keep track of his/her own grade anyways!?!!). Since it is now nearing five and I have been "technically" out of work for about 2 hours now I'd like to go home where you or you kid cannot and will not annoy me.

A Teacher