The Simple Magic of Email
When a wonder becomes pervasive, there is a danger we become dull to its innate splendour. You can ignore any miracle if it is routine. Today I was reminded of the simple magic of email and Internet by unexpected treasure in my inbox.
On Friday, hobbling back to the canal, my mind still blazing with literary fire, I thought of the forces which shaped my relationship with words. I was wishing for chances to thank the links in the narrative chain that helped make me a writer. One important name summoned was Bee, my A-level English teacher. Her belief in me and the conversations I enjoyed with her in and out of her class are something I still treasure nearly 20 years later.
This afternoon I received an email from her. She had heard me doing a back on the farm radio interview on Radio 4, recognized my name and my ‘distinctive voice’ (probably a polite way of describing my Essex barrow boy consonant crunching) and looked me up. Bee’s words were wonderfully kind, taking delight that I had ‘not lost that alternative, quirky outlook on the world that took my interest when you were in my class’ and pleasure in seeing that I have ‘become such a fluent writer because I can remember how promising I thought you were and how frustrated you must have felt at times with study assignments.’
The power the Internet and email delivers to its users to connect is still breathtaking to me. Yet even more wonderful is being so gently remembered by someone I hold in high esteem. Thank you Bee. Thank you in the now for making my day and thank you in the then for being one of those forces that made me a writer.
On Friday, hobbling back to the canal, my mind still blazing with literary fire, I thought of the forces which shaped my relationship with words. I was wishing for chances to thank the links in the narrative chain that helped make me a writer. One important name summoned was Bee, my A-level English teacher. Her belief in me and the conversations I enjoyed with her in and out of her class are something I still treasure nearly 20 years later.
This afternoon I received an email from her. She had heard me doing a back on the farm radio interview on Radio 4, recognized my name and my ‘distinctive voice’ (probably a polite way of describing my Essex barrow boy consonant crunching) and looked me up. Bee’s words were wonderfully kind, taking delight that I had ‘not lost that alternative, quirky outlook on the world that took my interest when you were in my class’ and pleasure in seeing that I have ‘become such a fluent writer because I can remember how promising I thought you were and how frustrated you must have felt at times with study assignments.’
The power the Internet and email delivers to its users to connect is still breathtaking to me. Yet even more wonderful is being so gently remembered by someone I hold in high esteem. Thank you Bee. Thank you in the now for making my day and thank you in the then for being one of those forces that made me a writer.
Labels: Acknowledgements, SEEVIC
posted by David at
7:34 PM
10 Comments:
Isn't that nice! It's so easy for students to remember teachers, but for teachers to remember one student out of the legions that they have taught - that is quite a compliment!
That is very sweet.
Marvin – Before yesterday I would have been convinced the only teachers who remembered me would have done it for all the wrong reasons. I was a huge pain in the arse between the ages of 14-19.
GC – It is sweet. I am profoundly touched by her kind words.
That has to be quite a feeling...I always find it wonderful to reconnect with someone that may have gone out of their way to connect with us at earlier ages.
It is a rare gift.
As an ex-teacher I can now confess that there are pupils one admires and hold great hopes for, but of course, one cannot admit as much in the classroom. I never wanted to be Jean Brodie or Mr Chips, but I hope I inspired the odd one or two to live the dream.
A touching story.
Puss
That IS cool.. I wish my English teacher would look for me. ;-)
That's the trouble with changing your name, it makes you hard to find.
I'd look for my English teacher, but he had a name that there are probably hundreds of. My English teacher was also one of my favourites, along with my college Art teacher, the Buddhist that got me on the path I'm on.
I wish I could thank all those people, too. I'm glad you got the chance. That's warm and fuzzy, in the nicest way.
That is really neat. When I did my short stint at the school district here, my typing teacher remembered me. Which made me laugh because she told me to give up typing. I never got past 24 words a minute. I enjoyed telling her that I learned to type in chat rooms. :) I can't express how good it made me feel that she remembered me in a good way.
How goes the healing? Do they have you floating in a bacta tank a la Luke Skywalker?
May you wear your scars proudly. ;-)
My teachers remember me too... which is most unfortunate, since it's *cough cough* for all the wrong reasons.
I rate you excellent, dear. But at the other place, not the one you usually visit.
Puss
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