My name is Harold. I am currently in my third year studying English literature for the secondary level at UALR. Yes, I am going to be a high school English teacher. I hope that I won't be the students' worst enemy. I've always wanted to be a teacher, but I let fear stand in the way of my dreams. I had some great teachers throughout school, and I always wondered if I was able to do what it takes to cross the threshold from student to teacher. I was once told that teaching is a noble profession. Jesus was a teacher. I want to be a teacher.
Why am I writing this blog? I'm not completely sure just yet, but I'm sure a clear answer will appear soon. I wanted to get out there and see what people are talking about. What do people care about? Because we are now in a society where people don't seem to be valued. It's more of a what you have that can help me. So, I wanted to use my gift to help others. I wanted to use writing as a means of reaching people and what they need to push themselves to higher levels. Writing has become a great love in my life but it wasn't always.
During my senior year, I had taken an English class that was taught by the meanest woman on the planet (how some of the students nicely put it). I would write papers that I were pretty good, but it was never good enough for her. I would get frustrated and come close to giving up. I had pretty much given up any hope in my writing abilities, but a certain event changed my view on writing.
I lost a great man in my life: my mentor, Mr. Chris Lee. He was my quiz bowl coach from tenth through twelfth grade. He suffered from cancer, but you couldn't tell because he would always smile. This left me confused. How could someone who is going through so much pain, smile? I was a mess. I wanted to give up on everything because I couldn't imagine going to school and not seeing Mr. Lee's face. I would talk to him about everything during lunch in his classroom. This was where we had the discussion of the future of the quiz bowl team. He told me that he didn't think he would be able to finish the season. So until then, I had to keep the team together until we found another coach. Thank God, we didn't have any competitions that we couldn't attend in between time. For his memorial, my AP literature teacher told me to write how I was feeling. I was feeling so much so quickly that I didn't know how I felt. With her sad music blaring in the classroom and the tears and snot I was fighting on my face, pinpointing my feelings then recording them seemed nearly impossible. However, I had to because I had to read my account at his service. She later told me that what I wrote was eloquent and profound. I laughed at the irony because this was coming from the woman that approve any paper that I had ever written for her. I guess when you really care about the subject matter you tend to do the best you can.
That's what I'm trying to get at. I really care about people. I even care about the welfare of those that I probably shouldn't. No matter how shady or low down a person is, they are still a being that God has taking time to create; therefore, should be treated with some sort of dignity.
In the new year, I plan to do as much as I can for people be it through face-to-face or digital means. I want to know what you want from me. If you have questions that you feel comfortable sharing, you can leave a comment. If you feel like you just want me to know, then email me at firstname.lastname@example.org, and I will do my best to get to your comments.
I wish all of you the best in whatever you dream to accomplish. With a little hard work, determination, and faith nothing is impossible.