School Thank Yous

TW: Mental health & Physical abuse

Dear Mrs. Carter,

Thank you for being my teacher for 2nd grade. At the dollar store mom said I could get you a present. I've always loved those little snow globe thingys. I couldn't find one that said Teacher, so I got the one that said Mom instead. I figure it's' close enough.

Johnny (age 7)

Dear Mr. Dietrich,

Thanks for teaching me 7th grade! You are my favorite teacher. (Way better than grumpy ole Puggly last year. We called her Ratface- when she wasn't around.) I liked it best when you taught us about the Red Baron flying in WWI. He was a cool dude! I made a model of the English Sopwith Camel at home. I think biplanes are prettier than modern planes, don't you?

Johnny (age 12)

Ms. Appleton,

When stupid ole Westerly 'recommended' me to the school counselor for "insubordinate and disruptive behavior," I made up my mind to hate you. I'd already been to the principal five times without effect, how would a dumb counselor help?

As much as I hate talking about feelings and all that mumbo jumbo, some how things grew calmer and seemed to make sense in your office - once I gave you a chance, that is.

(I should never have taken your stupid poker bet. I'm convinced you cheated or that deck is rigged. If it's not, can you teach me how to cheat? I'm determined to get revenge on Billy Hopper!)

This was not a good year for my family. Dad's a violinist. A good one. This year the orchestra he was working for let him go and he couldn't find any gigs. He had a lot of time on his hands. Too much. He focused on me.

In the past he's given me violin lessons on and off again in his spare time, but he's always been relaxed about it. Now that he was out of a job he decided I would be the next Itzhak Perlman and he was determined to teach me. He made me practice 2 hours a day. I hated every minute of it. By turns he yelled and encouraged me so much i did it anyway. He was depressed and said my playing gave him a reason to keep going. I wasn't sure how serious he was, but I wanted to please him so I did the practising.

I wasn't improving as fast as he hoped. He called me an imbecile, a moron, couldn't understand how I could be so f**** awful when I was HIS son, and that he was ashamed of me. Sometimes dinner was postponed 2 hours late until I got a passage "just right." Those nights Mom folded up her lips tight and didn't say anything while Dad yelled at me. I didn't know whom I hated worse then, Dad or her.

It was a relief to talk about it and get support from you the next day. Thank you.

John (age 14)

Ms. Appleton,

This year was even worse than last year so thanks for being there for me. Dad decided 2 hours practice wasn't enough and upped it to 3 hours. In order to achieve this he made me quit football. I was mad. I rebelled. I yelled at him and refused to practice violin. But without my parents' support I had no ride to football; I was stuck. Dad lost his temper at my shouting and sulks, said I was spoiled, and slapped me across the face. In that moment I became afraid of him.

My dad's a big guy, 6'3. Until then I'd never noticed how huge he was, if ever only in a protective sort of way, but suddenly I realized how much shorter I was and I got terrified.

"Now pick up your violin and PLAY!" He growled.

I hated myself, but I did it. Never had Vivaldi's concertos seemed so awful as that night.

The next day I cried in your office. I hate tears. They're f*** stupid. But you said it was good to let it out. You listened a lot and at the end said some things I'll never forget.

Sometimes if I'm having a bad night I repeat those words to myself.

Jack (age 15)

P.S. I used your trick of counting cards in a Poker game against Billy and I won.

Ms. Appleton,

As you know, last year my dad got a job teaching music at Southwood Elementary. He hates it. He was meant to be a musician, not a teacher.

I was hoping once he started up a new job he'd lighten up on me, but I was mistaken. He took his frustration out on me instead. If I dreaded practising before, now I loathed it with all my soul. It seemed every spare minute I had was owned by that d*** instrument. I had dreams of tearing up my violin, destroying it, throwing it in the trash can, burning it.

One night Dad was so mad at me. I couldn't get Bach's concerto in E flat right. He grabbed my bow and threw it on the floor. To his surprise, the upper end snapped breaking the bow. We were both shocked.

The worst part was bringing the bow to the violin maker to get it fixed. Dad told the man, "Boys will be boys," and spun a story about me and my football roughhousing 'accident' with the bow.

He tousled my hair affectionately in a way that was supposed to kickstart a nod from me in support of his tale. My job was too look guilty and say nothing. I stared at the ground and scowled.

Those were days when life f**** sucked and I was just done. You really helped me then, and I'll forever be grateful for it.

Jack (age 16)

Ms. Appleton,

I DID IT!!!! I GOT ACCEPTED TO TLC! I'M GOING TO COLLEGE!!!!!!

Away from dad, away from that d*** violin. I'm never going to play a musical instrument ever again!

Thank you for all your help with my application and recommendation letter!

I've been dreaming about TLC for months. I'm so excited! As I told you, I'm going to be a History major with a concentration in the 20th century. There's a WWI class I have my eye on taught by a real live veteran who used to fly fighter planes! I have a hundred questions for him!

My roommate's name is Steve and he is a non-smoker who loves basketball and manga and wants to be a political science major. Most importantly, he does not play any instruments. (I asked.)

As excited as I am for college there are a few things I'm going to miss around here. The ice cream parlor on 4th street, the bbq place with the extra spicy sauce, and well, you. Highschool was horrible, but you helped me get through it and for that I'll always be grateful. Thank you for listening to me, talking to me, and helping me feel like I'm not such a f**** moron.

That's all I really wanted to say, I guess.

Thank you and so long.

John (TLC bound)

P.S. If Steve and I become REALLY good friends maybe I'll teach him to play poker the way you taught me. ;)