Teaching as a creative act and trusting as a creative offering

a short personal story and an invitation

Has anyone ever believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself?

Those who want to go back to adolescence baffle me. I remember high school as a time of paying dues and feeling ill-at-ease in my body. This sacred time between childhood and adulthood felt like a chrysalis, the liquification, as I found myself disappointed by many of the patterns I saw in human behavior.

Meanwhile, I held a vague hope that this awkward time would lead to something better. And I attribute much of that hope to those who believed in me.

Chalk artist: David Zinn

My hope did not have much to do with my traditional education at the time. My friends, along with my strange creative brain, liked to dream. It dreamed that adulthood held the answers. So, I dropped out of school and dashed headlong into the working world. I went from part-time work to full-time work, and I began to settle into routines I’d been preparing for since I was fourteen.

Part of the reason I dropped out of high school was, quite frankly, the lack of belief around me. The high school I attended was generally disappointing to anyone who actually wanted to learn back then. There were perpetual plumbing issues in one of the bathrooms, which made the hallways smell stale, and most of the teachers seemed more insistent on keeping us “in line” than trusting we could retain much, let alone be interested in their material.

But, as always in life, there were a few exceptions. And it was said exceptions that often offered the most influence.

I can easily recall only two of my high school teachers’ names, and one of them was my English teacher, Dr. Macioci. This man taught. He taught us as though we were the most intelligent young people he’d ever met. He was passionate and funny and brilliant, but still … why did he choose to teach us, rather than the private school across town, or the university? Why the hardscrabble high schoolers with presumed discipline issues who navigated piss-scented halls? (Curiously enough, many of the fights and actual discipline issues happened in the classes taught by teachers who were most worried about them.)

Honestly, Dr. Macioci baffled me even then. He treated us as though we were capable. He called us out when we were wrong, but he expected us to find the right answer. And while I never imagined running into him again, he influenced me profoundly.

Recently, I had an old student/current friend over to my house for brunch with my mother. It was a lovely time because seeing my students grow and flourish is beautiful.

Shortly after this brunch, I checked the submission portal for Unleash. I don’t usually read the submissions for poetry, but it was Labor Day, and I decided to take the opportunity to see what had come in. I quickly fell in love with two poems. When I read the author’s bio, I couldn’t believe it. It was him. Dr. Macioci. I sent him a note promising that there was no preferential treatment and supposing he didn’t remember me.

He responded.

I’m getting lunch with my high school teacher soon. I plan to interview him and share that interview when we release his poems, but in the meantime, the synergistic joy of having an old student of mine over for eggs, then finding an old teacher—all of it in a single weekend—reminded me how connected we all are. More, it made me think of how influential we all are.

We impact each other with words, ideas, and emotions. But we also influence others simply by trusting them. It is a remarkable thing, to trust in another’s growth. Trusting in potential, after all, enables it.

This post doesn’t have much to do with writing on the surface, but I do think the greater conversations—those that happen in a way that becomes part of the undercurrent of our lives—are what matters most. They occur in the classroom, on the page, and in our work.

Don’t forget how much impact you can have simply by believing in another’s potential. Your belief just might lead to their belief in yet another. This is the kind of impact that we can't measure. It’s too big.

Our lit journal is scheduling through the end of the year, but if you’re curious, one of Dr. Macioci’s poems can be found here: Bombay Review.

We all know memes, trends, behaviors, and fears spread. Write/create something that reflects the ripple effect of offerings, love, friendship and *gasp* kindness.