I am a success
story. As far as teachers go, their influence in the way my life has played out
in the last three decades is one of the main reasons I am so incredibly
passionate about education. I could sum it up simply and say it’s all about
paying it forward, but I supposed a personal statement is all about digging
into the personal details.
I grew up in an
oil field town called Vernal, Utah, where kids were taught at an early age that
girls should learn homemaking skills to prepare for motherhood and boys were
groomed to take over the family farm or business. And if either sex had other
ideas, well… the oil field was always looming in the background, ready to consume
any hopes and dreams that managed to escape expectation.
As in any
seemingly impossible odds story, there’s always the X factor, and I’m not
talking about the TV show. In my story, that X factor was my father. Of the
many hats he wore in order to provide for our family, high school history
teacher was his obvious favorite. It didn’t matter how many hours in a day he
had to work to make ends meet, because his great escape was standing in front
of a classroom every day and inspiring an entire community’s children to dream
beyond the limitations of our small town.
Seeing the
effect my father’s passion and dedication had on my classmates and even his
fellow teachers was my first great epiphany. They believed him. They believed
IN him and they became empowered in a way that changed lives forever. It didn’t
matter that they had almost nothing. It didn’t matter that not much was expected
of them. What mattered was their teacher believed that each of them was capable
of greatness.
I didn’t know
it back then, but while my father was teaching high school history and working
as the sports editor for the local newspaper, he was also equipping me with all
the tools I would need to be capable of greatness.
I could be cute
and say those tools included Huckleberry Finn and Jean Louise “Scout” Finch,
but what I really mean is that my dad gave me examples of adversity and an old
leather-bound journal to compare my own adventures and missteps. He gave me a
way to sort through the chaos of being an American teenager.
As it would
turn out, I needed every tool in the book, and then some.
Attending a predominantly
Mormon school as one of just a handful of non-Mormons was challenging enough. Being
the only gay kid in school was downright torture… in every sense of the word.
It didn’t take long to become an expert at survival and evasion techniques.
But you can’t
escape destiny. And for me, destiny came in the form of my high school math
teacher. Fresh off the boat from college, she came to my high school with a fiery
determination to reach every troubled kid in her path. There’s no escaping that
kind of fire… there’s only minimizing its potential to burn.
And boy, did it
burn. At the time, I was pretty proud of my ability to fly under the radar with
a solid C average, minus the occasional F in math. But a C wasn’t going to cut
it for my math teacher and an F was just scandalous. So she requested me as her
student assistant for one hour a day… for three years.
For three years
during the hour she was supposed to have to prep and grade papers, she grilled
me on addition, subtraction, multiplication and other forms and figures I
couldn’t pronounce if I tried.
A funny thing
started to happen after that first year. My solid Cs turned into solid Bs… and
the occasional F in math turned into the occasional C. Even odder… I was
starting to believe I might actually get accepted into college. Talk about scandalous.
I could go on
for 1,000 more words about how that math teacher changed my life. But I’ll just
sum it up by saying she was responsible for the beginning of me believing in
myself… and my continued life-long loathing of numbers.
I did go on to
attend college, where my professors nurtured my intense passion for reading and
writing and developed it into hopes of a career. During that time, I never
forgot that math teacher, or my father, who both put a tremendous amount of
time into cultivating my capability to be great.
I know I
started this whole story by stating I could sum all of this up with saying I
have a deep desire to pay it forward. That started in college, where I tutored
my fellow classmates in English and writing, and spent my spare time
volunteering as a counselor and tutor for my community’s gay youth.
That passion
for service turned into a six year stint in the United States Army, the
majority of which I spent as a combat journalist. The opportunity to serve as a
squad leader and supervisor for young Soldiers just starting out their career
as journalists is one of the main reasons I have now decided to become a high
school English teacher.
There’s no
greater responsibility than being in charge of 17 and 18 year old young men in
the middle of a war zone. But there is no greater reward, than watching those
young men come home safe and develop into highly successful and absolutely
delightful human beings.
Each of the
people I’ve had the pleasure to work with over the years, from the teachers who
inspired me, to the Soldiers who’ve looked up to me, really deserve their own essays.
Each of them have given me the tools I need to reach the next generation of
youth who are capable of greatness. Each of them gave me a reason to always
strive to pay it forward.
