Newbie and I learn a lesson

My name Is Sara Creevan, I am 25 years old. I currently reside in Maine with my husband and two beautiful little boys, ages 3, and 1. I'm a Behavioral Science and CMY studies major and am currently employed as a Behavioral Health Professional working with children with disabilities. From a young age, I was very empathetic and loved helping people, I was always very sensitive and enjoyed expressing myself artistically. I exhibited an early interest in drawing and writing though later discovered a passion for poetry. Throughout my years in school, I was mainly acknowledged for my performances in sports. I was definitely considered a 'jock' and embraced this role, but not many people knew that I too, was a writer, and dreamer. I was afraid to expose this side because I believed I could not be both. I was a well established athlete but yearned for someone to notice that I was more than that, that I could be more than that in order to break from the chains of stereotypes.. In my senior year, of high school I found the most unconventional way to do so. From a bad experience with a newbie teacher, came a lesson I live by today.

After my first week in my senior English class, I asked my teacher to review a paper I had written for an upcoming assignment. He was a new transfer from a prestigious academy. His reputation intimidated me. Despite his seemingly busy schedule, he agreed to meet with me after class to go over my paper. "He's not so bad, I thought."

When the bell rang, I watched nervously as all of the students exited the classroom. There I sat, with nervous excitement. I knew I had written one of my best papers, would he see this? Oh, he'd see this! As he recited specific lines aloud, I thought to myself, "man, I nailed this, he's impressed! I really wanted to set the bar with a brilliant first impression--and it was.

Once he was finished reading my paper, or had read enough (to which I'm not sure), he removed his finger from his lip and placed the paper face down on his desk. I was unprepared for what he'd say next. With no obscurity, he stared me in the eye and asked, "where did you get this?" wow, that certainly wasn't what I had expected. 
He accused me of plagiarizing and stated " this is TOO good to be yours," Those were his exact words, and not just a memory I've tampered with. He then told me I'd better take the paper and include some citations or make sure it was "truly mine", before handing in again. He said if I told him where I copied from, I would only receive a warning and would not be in trouble. 

Trouble?! what? Add citations? There's a thought! It would go something like this, "Rushforth, Sara, 2006, journal of her mind., asshole." I thought about doing that; at that moment, my brother's ill sense of humor stormed over me like a thundercloud. but I resisted the odd temptation.

He thought he was so smart, this newbie teacher with his sideways grin. Less than a week before he'd settled into his new niche and he'd already apprehended a cheater. His thoughts, not mine.. He stared at me as if he was searching or rather, fishing for something. An emotion to reconfirm his suspicions. But they weren't suspicions, not in his mind, not in his voice. What was he searching for? 

I'm not entirely sure which expression my face painted but I wondered if it was indicative of guilt or if he could see the heart break I was experiencing. Deep down, I was devastated. In fact, I didn't want to write again. I wanted to withdraw from his class and give up. Served me right, my ulterior motives and falsified sense of hope. Hope that he'd enable me to break free from the leash of stereotypes I was chained by.. hope that he'd enable me to find my identity.
I knew I hadn't done anything wrong and had nothing to hide, but why was this weighing me down?

In retrospect, what a compliment. How good he must have thought my paper! But did he think so little of me, to know, without hesitation, what I was or wasn't capable of? What was he basing his suspicions or assumptions on? I had never written anything for his class before.

I took my paper as he had instructed and walked away from his classroom with the intention of never returning. For the next few minutes, I sat alone with my thoughts. His performance up there I must applaud, for now I understood how teachers saw me. A person like myself (an athlete), and sister of an older, class clown, could not be two separate people in one, just as I had thought. Maybe he was right. No, I couldn't let his words cut into me like that, I was the exception, damnit, I am the exception! 

I had a short window of time before I needed to be home, so I went in search of the Dean of Students who had previously taught many of my classes.  A teacher well acquainted with my very specific, writing style. If anyone knew how I wrote or who I really was, it would be him, I was never afraid for him to see who I really was because he understood it. The need to be one thing, a roll we all play, but the desire, the desire to be both, to be whatever I wanted.

The Dean read my paper in front of me, but this time I wasn't nervous. When he finished reading, he looked to me and said "Sara, I haven't the slightest doubt this is yours!." he was as baffled as I, the newbie had said such things.
What a relief! I knew the Dean was a good one! He assured me he would "handle the situation" and demanded, in a joking manner, that I go home and prepare for my big game that night.  

oh, for the last few hours I had forgot about my game. My coach and teammates needed me. As I scrambled around my house in search of all of my soccer equipment, many thoughts flowed freely through my mind, but they weren't about the newbie English teacher who had accused me of plagiarism only a few hours earlier. In fact, I didn't have a single thought about him. 

 I was able to play that night with but a smile of confidence on my face. I ended up scoring 4 goals with 3 assists to ensure our placement in the playoff bracket. 
Who's showing off now? Maybe, I had some subconscious agenda. He'd probably already been scorned by now, less than one week in his new school. Surely I was taunting him.

Against my whispered words, I returned to the classroom. I worked quietly and dilligently. I didn't speak much, but when I did, I made sure he was watching, listening, and realizing just how wrong he had me.

I'll never know what was said in the conversation between my two superiors, but my English teacher was different, not the firm, confident, egomaniacal newbie I remembered. He must be choking on his words each time he hears me speak.

 By the end of the year, he left a final response in my journal praising my work. He encouraged me to pursue writing and claimed I had "enormous potential." He never formally apologized for his unsettling words, but I knew he had tried. How ironic, that he wanted my approval when I only sought his on that day. I had given him one welcoming he'd never forget, I was sure of that. My name he would remember, But he too, gave something to me. A lesson I would always remember. He wasn't a bad man, but I believe he's more patient now, in processing his thoughts.

From the moment I marched the stairs to receive my diploma, I looked back in the crowd, and he was there. A congratulatory nod, I'm sure. As I received my diploma and looked at him, I vowed to never let anyone tell me I wasn't good enough to do or be something. I decided only I would judge myself, and only I would be the reason I could or couldn't do something. I would set the only bar for myself, whether too high or too low. 

This lesson has transpired throughout my college years and into my professional career. I am better because of it.  
It's because of this, that I would certainly attribute my professional success and goals. When I needed a teacher to believe in me, and instill the assurance and confidence that I could break through the barriers of stereotypes, I was failed. Today, I teach my clients that no one can stop them from becoming whoever they want to be. I will do whatever I can to help them accomplish their goals and realize their potential. I will serve as their enabler and not disable their dreams.