I was in sixth grade at the time—an extremely shy, awkward girl who didn’t really care for school that much and found it to be excruciatingly boring. To have to sit there and learn something that you had absolutely no interest in was, in my young opinion, a big waste of time. I would often find myself daydreaming, or doodling on my Pee Chee folder or on the brown paper bag book covers I had made for each of my textbooks.

Occasionally, I would take out a sheet of paper and pretended to be doing my schoolwork when I was actually writing down a poem I had been working on. I had a separate folder that I kept my poems in and no one, not even my own family, had ever seen them.

It was on one of these days that I had the misfortune of being caught by the teacher, who confiscated my entire folder and told me to get to work on the assigned lesson. My heart started pounding at the thought of him looking at my private poems! At first, I was afraid of what he might think of them, then I became angry at him for taking them from me. I was so mad that during recess I drew a not-so-nice picture of him and wrote, “This is Mr. Brower” across the top of the page, changing my handwriting of course. The next morning, before he came in, I walked by his desk and laid the drawing right there smack in the middle where he couldn’t miss it.

As you can guess, that was one drawing he wasn’t pleased with! He started questioning the class, demanding who drew that picture. I could only hope that the hot red flushing to my face wouldn’t give me away. No one confessed to the crime so we all ended up having a short after lunch recess.

When I returned to my desk after lunch, there was my poetry folder sitting on my desktop. I looked inside to make sure nothing was missing and I found a note that was neatly folded. I opened it up and read, “Donna, these poems are VERY good. I enjoyed reading them. Please write more of them as you have a great gift. Don’t waste it. It was signed, Mr. Paul D. Brower.

I couldn’t believe it! He actually liked my poems and told me that I had a great gift! I immediately felt guilty for drawing that picture of him. His note made me feel so good and gave me encouragement and hope, and here I had done something terribly disrespectful to him.

He later called me to his desk and complimented me on my poems, but explained that there was a time and place to write them, but it wasn’t during class time. I apologized and told him that I was the one who drew the picture and that it was just because I was so mad at him for taking my poems away from me. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Brower”. He just smiled and said he figured it was me and reminded me not to let it happen again. I couldn’t believe he didn’t punish me further.

Out of all the teachers I’ve had throughout the years, Mr. Brower is the one I always think of when it comes to having a favorite teacher. I kept his note and still have it to this day. He’ll never know how much that little piece of paper meant to me throughout my life. He was one of the few people who believed in me and encouraged me. He made me feel like I was actually good at something … and several years later when I was struggling through some hard times during junior high and high school, I would often pull out his note and read it over and over again. It was one of the things that helped me to get by.

I don’t know if Mr. Brower is still living today, but perhaps when I pass through this veil of life, I will one day, be able to thank him for believing in me and for his note that helped to sustain me through difficult times.

Every child should have a teacher like Mr. Paul D. Brower … a teacher who encourages and motivates and believes in the abilities of his or her students. I know there are teachers today who do, but not every child is that lucky to have one.

Thank you, Mr. Brower, where ever you are, for believing in me when no one else did.