By Travis

Writing did not come easily to me. In junior high, I would watch my friends energetically write, their pencils dancing away, creating works of great literature, or at least semi-coherent pieces that would garner a passing grade. 

Writing eluded me. I knew what writing was and I was an avid reader, but the power to mold words and phrases into something worthy was beyond me. It was akin to magic.

Science and math were my subjects. I tolerated English because I enjoyed reading. Then in my senior year, my American Literature teacher changed my life.

Mr. Blair was a short man, solidly build. The use of "stout" would fit most welcome on his person. He wore casual clothes as he was also a coach in a variety of sports. Golf shirts and jeans. He did not have the appearance of an amazing teacher. I walked into class on the first day and had him figured out: sports guy who loved worksheets and end of chapter questions. I would nail this semester. 

I left that first day both wrong (totally wrong) and happy at being wrong (a unique endeavor in my early adolescence).

Mr. Blair had such passion for American literature. After a week, I realized that I could sit and listen to him talk, animatedly, for hours. It was a great mix of his insight, mixed with pulling in the thoughts of the class and always asking WHY. Why do you feel that, what is the goal, how do those words make you feel? 

Mr. Blair did not just share subject matter. He taught it—this is what makes teaching unique. Mr. Blair helped me think even when it was hard or when I did not want to. Students discussed in class. Even the tough kids, the kids no one could crack. They shared. 

I dedicated my master's thesis to Mr. Blair.

He taught me how to think critically and analyze novels. From there, he taught me how to organize my thoughts into a cohesive essay, a skill I had lacked my whole school career. 

Mr. Blair took the time to teach me one-on-one. Realizing I was a science-type, he taught me a highly structured system on how to write an essay. This “formula” helped me share and explain my ideas. With each essay I wrote, I was able to add a bit more flair to my writing.

I can confidently say that without Mr. Blair’s guidance, I would have struggled my freshman year of college with all of the essays I had to write.

Changing the state standards of English did not make me a better writer; unifying the district under one packaged writing product did not show me how to write; and piling on more expectations did not create the love I now have for writing. 

A person did. A teacher. Mr. Blair. 

Many people outside of education, often those in politics or policy making, too quickly presume that anyone can teach—just give a person a curriculum and handouts and students will learn. This negates the fact that teaching, the act of teaching, is a unique skill set.

Teachers have strategies to develop and pull the best out of each student even if the student is reluctant. Teachers manage large amounts of data, some of it numerical and some of it social, so that the teacher can give each student what is needed for academic growth. This is no small feat.

Mr. Blair did it and it made a difference in my life. Teachers across America do it every day. Today, I thank every one of my teachers, past and future. I thank my colleagues who tirelessly work outside of the work day. I thank my sons’ teachers because my sons love going to school. You are all amazing.

I appreciate you because you change lives forever.