Publishable

I'm not really a huuuuge fan of English. If you read my blog at all, you can attest to the the fact that proper grammar is practically non-existent, I'm as random as a banana in pajamas, and I totally lack well balanced structure to say the least. Like my personal diet of eating what I wanna eat, when I wanna eat it, I basically just say what I wanna say, when I wanna say it, regardless of the lack of intelligence that is portrayed through my carelessness for all things proper and professional.

I'm an English minor, you'd think I'd have earned enough experience and knowledge from having information poured into my noggin these last 3 years to be able to write something half decent, but frankly, half the time I leave a class stupider than when I entered it! I had great grammar before taking my grammar theory class, and now all I pretty much know is what I learned from those childhood classic Schoolhouse Rock songs. (You'd better be singing the conjunction junction what's your fuuuunction song right now, if you know what I mean!) 

The point is, half the time, I really find myself sitting in class, hating all things English related and wondering why in Hades I chose the minor I did.

(Yea, I'm that student. I've almost mastered the art of sleeping with my eyes open in fact! Pretty sure I've participated in some of the most expensive naps known to mankind...)

Anyways...

Today I received a subtle reminder why I'm an English minor.

BYU-Idaho has some excellent teachers, and some not-as-excellent teachers. Generally, it's pretty hit and miss. Everyone loves compliments, and really, by giving compliments, you have power. This was recognized by my brother Bryan at a young age. He's a smart cookie. A little too smart for my tastes, but what can you do? 

My mother was your average, everyday, home maker, mormon housewife. She made her children's lunched ev-ery-day. I don't know what triggered it, if it was Bryan's craving for better snacks, or his natural evil genius within, but he concocted a plan. Bryan started coming home from school, and raving about how delicious his lunch had been that day (as any grateful child should do). 

I can only imagine it... 

ooooh moooom, that peanut butter and Jelly really hit the spot. Mom, have you been giving us kool-aid instead of capri sun? because something is different... Mom, you've really outdone yourself today! 

Knowing him, I'll bet he laid it on thick. And you know what happened? His lunches literally kept getting better and better! Mom started buying better snacks, adding a little more here and there, and was really magnifying those God-given lunch-making talents.

Something about appreciation makes people work a little bit harder to be a little bit better. Have you ever noticed that when you are truly appreciated for something, you try doing that same thing more often and better? It's why when you know someone is trying to lose weight, recognizing that hard work can really give them the push they need. Boys: If you like getting back scratches, you'd be very wise to just raaaave whenever that special someone gives you one. 

Trust me, we're onto something. 

The point is, compliments go a long way, and I'd go so far as to say that the reason I'm still an English minor is 110% due to compliments and encouragement. 

(You all know who you are, so thank you for being so enthusiastic and supportive of my writing! Your words are power just as much as mine are.)

Back to teachers. I've had many teachers that I've very highly respected, but a few stand out among the crowd. They've stood out to me for these reasons:

-You can tell that they are not just there to teach. They are there to influence.

-They genuinely emulate love.

-These professors have always stressed knowing the names and works of each student individually.

-They've opened my eyes to something far greater than the material they are teaching. They teach about life, not just curriculum.

-They've truly been the best of the best in their field. These teachers eat, breathe, and sleep brilliance. 

-Most importantly to me, these teacher's have taken the time to personally pull me aside to give thoughtful encouragement and advice.

I've always liked writing, but the first time I truly believed I was good at it was my freshman year of college: writing fundamentals. I thought my teacher was crazy. He had us do some of the most time-consuming, yet meaningful assignments I've ever done. He drove me nuts because I could never figure out how he graded, and have always aimed high for grades. I never did learn to read this man. It wasn't until the very end of the semester that I realized he really didn't care about grades; he cared about us. He wanted us to gain something meaningful, and learn about ourselves through writing, without the penalty of a grade. 

There were days I wanted to trip this man walking up the stairs, and send all those dirty papers flying. Ooooh, his style drove me so crazy!

I wanted so badly to please him, I worked so hard, and yet... nothing. Then one day we had to do an assignment. We read a story and had to relate it to ourselves, and boy, I let it out. It was pretty raw, and rather unconventional for a sweet LDS girl to feel, think, and write, let alone turn in, and I did it. I felt kind of guilty really. That was the day. He called me back to talk to him, and I was terrified, as I always am when I do something a little edgy. I was expecting some sort of dignified advice on how I could improve, or maybe he'd slip me a notecard with the name and number of a school counselor on it.

But he didn't. 

He said "Valerie, You are a very good writer. Do you know that?"

... umm... considering you've done nothing but rip into my papers all semester, NO!

"...You really are, whatever you do in life, you need to continue writing."

I. was. dumbfounded.

I was speechless, and embarrassed as I usually am when professors compliment me, but this was different. All those late nights, all the writing I'd deemed useless, this whole love/hate relationship I had with this teacher was all worth it because of that statement. The words really aren't that special, but the fact that it was him, so highly trained, with so much experience, and such sincerity, meant everything.

This morning I went to a final for my class Advanced Writing and Critical Thinking. I loved my teacher. Though half the time he spoke far above my level of thinking, I knew he really knew his stuff. He graduated from Stanford, top of his class with honors. I'm telling you, this man could really be doing something far greater in the eyes of the world, but instead he's a teacher at BYU-Idaho, and he's made it clear he doesn't ever regret that. It's clear to me that he really grasps what is and isn't important in life. He is sweet, and always so happy. Today, he river danced on the table, just because. He's a great man. Anyways, we were assigned to write 300 words grammatically perfect. As we already know, I hate grammar. I actually became lazy and copy and pasted an exert from a previously posted blog, went to a tutor, edited it, and turned it in. It wasn't one of my most optimistic pieces overflowing with gumdrops and butterflies, but it was what I thought to be real, and he did say we could write about anything we wanted...

He handed it back, looked me in the eyes and said "I need to have a chat with you."

I can only imagine the terror on my face when I blurted out "oh no, why?"

He smile and looked at me quizically and said, "This is just very good." 

Very good? What is he talking about? It's 300 words of I-really-just-needed-to-get-this-out-of-my-system-no-matter-how-raw-it-is word vomit!

Apparently he likes word vomit.

 (Yea, no clue what all those little markings mean... I'm sure they are important though!)

I talked to him after class and first and foremost apologized for the not-as-optomistic-as-it-could-have-been writing (after all, this is BYU-Idaho, you can express yourself, but there still is somewhat of an expectation that no one feels anything outside of our perfect cheshire smiles and sun-shiny facades.) He asked me what my major was. I told him Art Education. After kind of a strange look, I mentioned that I was an English Education minor, hence taking this class. He told me that that was good, very good. He said though my grammar may not be perfect, I was a very talented writer and that no matter what profession I choose, I should always find some way of incorporating writing, because with a little more work, he believed my writing could very well be publishable. He then told me I'm the only student this semester he's believed could have their writing published.

Woah.

I may have wet my pants a little.

Maybe you just had to be there, but that compliment was huge to me. This guys really knows his stuff, and if he thinks I could actually do something professionally with writing, than I'm sure as heck not going to argue.

GOLD STAR BABY!!!!

(oh yaaa, oh yaaa, happy dance, happy dance.)

But seriously, how cool is that?

MOMMA I CAN WRITE!

So that is that. I'd say I've had a pretty decent morning.

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