I recently stumbled upon a couple sheets of notepaper that A) made me cry the most pathetically happy tears and B) struck me as particularly blog-worthy.
One of the most wonderful teachers I had in high school was Jessica Bagby. She called me “princess” and, though nearly every teacher before her had taken time to point out my brilliantly wasted potential, made sure I knew exactly how special I was and how much I could achieve if I simply made up my mind to do so. During her class one day, Ms. Bagby asked me and my fellow senior classmates to write our names on the top of a sheet of paper. We then passed each sheet around the class and silently wrote each other notes until our own paper found it’s way back, now filled with a dozen handwriting samples. Though I’d known most of my classmates for nearly eight years, I’d never taken a moment to tell them how uniquely wonderful they each were and they certainly never told me the things that were now written in front of me. The notes were meant to be anonymous, but I used some of that signature wasted potential to remember the order in which everyone was sitting and, thus, the author of each note.
“I would like to know exactly what it is that could put you in a bad mood. I am dying to find out.”
“I could look at something green polka-dotted and think ‘That’s Stefany’.”
“There have been so many different times when I have had a horrible day and then walked into English class to see you basically running in and out of the room laughing and talking to people. I wish we spent more time together so I could learn to be like you.”
“I appreciate your sense of humor and school girl innocence.”
“It’s been great having you in this class, you are one of the very, VERY few that speaks.”
“Stefany – what a spaz. Sometimes it just seems you could never be more crazy, but then you do something else.”
“You’re one of the most energetic people I know. Maybe hyper is a better word. Sometimes it’s annoying, but most of the time you’re fun to be around.”
Given my classmates’ perception of me, it’s no wonder so many of my report cards accused me of being “a distraction to her fellow students” and “finding more opportunities to talk than necessary for class.” Nonetheless, I hope I was able to brighten their days as much as this 12 year-old class exercise brightened mine.