And Now

Just last week, I faced my fears--

I wanted to enroll in creative writing, but you need a B average. I have a C average. The only other way was to get a teacher reccomendation.

In my English teacher's class, I have an incomplete grade for not finishing a massively important essay. I've repeatedly forgotten (or just choose not) to turn things in. Big things. Projects, presentations... The works.

But she's heard me talk to my friends outside of class. She's read the writing I've done in my notebook. She's seen the award I've won. She knows about my girlfriend and knew not to my mom. She's just as much a friend, a role model, as a teacher.

I asked after class--

"Look, so, I kinda... I dunno, my grades arent, uh... Great. But I was wondering if, maybe, I could... If you could consider, if it's okay- I don't mean to give you work or anything-"

God, shut up, me.

"I was thinking about doing the creative writing class next year, maybe..?"

And then:

"Consider it done."

With a C average and only one teacher recommendation, I'm in. I'm in, because she vouched so persuasively for me, that they couldn't help but allow me in-- if not in the way you'd allow a deer into your house to see what it would do. It's really the same. Be terrified, clumsy, wreck shop and look cute.

Either way, I know now that I can write-- and well enough that ome person's opinion of me is so strong as to convince the whole English department.

Thanks, Mrs. Benmhuvar. You helped me prove myself. You're rad.

And now I'm a writer.