Some more of "Best Teachers"

"Every grain of sand affects the tide"

If you ever had the chance to take Dorothy Herbst's English class, or maybe it was called Humanities or something like that...the above sentence still stands in your mind.
I had a sole purpose or maybe a soul purpose in enrolling in Ms. Herbst class. ..To go to New York City...but I'll leave that story for a later date because I really need to pay her a much-deserved due.
I had already wasted 3 years of idiocracy in my antics at Fairview....and yes, if I had to do it all over again, I would have certainly studied harder, became more involved in other activities like theater, or art......but then I guess I wouldn't be what I am today....and to some, who believe in me, that's not so bad.
But, I had a chance to maybe find my creativity with Dorothy and I blew it. She so much loved what she did. She lived in the moment and could look into one's eyes and see that beautiful sculpture that lay enclosed in a block of marble and I just let her down.
She knew better than to struggle with me while I stole her time from much more deserving students. She knew I had some kind of a gift, and she told me so.....but that layer of protection that surrounded me, those insecurities of fear of success that I misinterpreted as fear of failure, prevented me finding my passion until years later.
Today, as I visit art museums or take in a play or relish in musicals, I sometimes think what it would have been like if instead of trying to be cool I would have tried to explore a deeper, a more intense, an exposure of the soul type dedication to expressing emotion or feelings other than just getting by for another semester in order to just have fun.
Yes, Ms. Herbst, I waisted your time and my time back then but perhaps these little acts that I perform now in this blog as I strut and fret my hour upon the stage I can repay you for your devotion to bringing out the best in us.

And speaking of those who believed I had or have something to offer is Barbara Minton.
I remember her as fresh out of college wanting to teach and share her passion for the written word as she was thrown into a class occupied by my "Spagnola-type" behavior. A couple of years ago as I contemplated reaching for my quill and parchment that I had so long ago set aside in search for a more profitable career, she came across my earlier bloggings and we began to correspond as I asked for direction and criticism as I pursued my longing to be a writer. Through no fault of her own, I ran from our talks, scared once again of that fear of success of wanting that passion for telling my stories. Barbara, thanks for your help and I hope you can once again enjoy my musings as I try to bring a laugh and a smile to everyone's face.

Next up: Dating and broken hearts