A few weeks ago, I thought about one of my favorite high school teachers.
Her name was Mrs. Killeen and I had her my junior year. I don’t remember many specifics from my high school classes, but what I do recall are some of her lectures. My class once had a fascinating debate about “The Great Gatsby,” where she allowed me to argue my point for 15 minutes while all of my peers were against me. My class learned from her how to deal with stress and turn it into positive energy from reading the book “The Overachievers.” Whatever we read, she found a way to make it interesting and engaging.
I had never really excelled at English before, but that year I managed to get a five on the AP Language and Composition exam. I never scored that high again and I firmly believe that her teaching led to my success. She would go on to write one of my letters of recommendation for college, and when I told her I was accepted into Binghamton, she seemed proud.
Unfortunately, in the years following high school, we didn’t keep in touch. In fact, we hadn’t corresponded since my graduation day.
But, in my short stories class this semester, we read some pieces by Margaret Atwood, an author who Mrs. Killeen first introduced me to. I began to think about her class and how that was the first time I really began to enjoy reading, writing and talking about books.
That day, I decided I was going to send her an email. I was going to tell her about how, even though I hadn’t planned to, I’d become an English major. I was going to tell her about how I’d fallen in love with reading, how I’d found a passion for writing, that I was accepted into my top choice for graduate school and about my plans to pursue journalism as a career.
Most importantly, I was going to thank her. I wanted to tell Mrs. Killeen that without her passion for teaching I don’t think I’d be on the path that I’m on. If I’d never taken her class, I really don’t believe that I would have pursued writing. Even though we hadn’t spoken in almost four years, I wanted her to know that.
But, I put off sending that email. That night, I was busy doing homework and I decided that I would send it the next night. What I wanted to say wasn’t going to change, so why did it matter if I sent it to her some other time? The next night, the same thing happened until eventually, I almost forgot about it.
Mrs. Killeen died suddenly on Sunday. That email will never be sent. I had decided other things were more important, and now I will never get a chance to say any of this to her.
I’ve learned two things from this. First, it’s important not to put anything off. I’ve always heard people say that “you should do something before it’s too late,” but I never actually believed them. Turns out, they were right. Life can change in the blink of an eye and an opportunity can be taken from you. So, if there’s something you think that you should say, or something you think you should do, say or do it as soon as possible. You may never get that chance again.
I also realized that you can affect the course of someone’s life without even trying. Mrs. Killeen did that for me. Just by doing her job extremely well and putting 100 percent effort behind it, she guided me toward something that I really fell in love with. Think about it: there are so many people who’ve made a difference in your life, changed the direction that you were headed and most of them probably didn’t even know it.
If you’re passionate, show love and have enthusiasm every day; then you could be that person to someone else. You’ll never know how many people you can truly touch with passion alone.
E. Jay Zarett is a senior double-majoring in English and political science.