A Letter For My Teacher

Standing in his burgundy cap and gown, Marcus Gooding never thought he’d see the day he’d graduate with his GED. Being a high school dropout and having a past of being a lazy pothead and drug dealer for a street gang, he wasn’t always given much of a chance in the world, especially in an underprivileged neighborhood in New York. His parents had become ashamed of him and often fought over money and his misbehavior.

Eventually, his mother abandoned him due to the stress of her family life and moved to Florida to live with his grandparents, unable to tolerate his misconduct anymore. Thankfully, his parents were getting along better and were both attending his graduation ceremony, which was taking place at the Frederick Douglass University in town. But there was one person who’d never given up on him even after he’d left school and promised he’d never come back again.

Mrs. Clara-Marie Robbins.

She was his eleventh-grade U.S. History teacher, which he was fortunate enough to have taught him as his night class instructor. She always believed in him and encouraged him that he could be anything he wanted, even when he didn’t believe in himself. Knowing she deeply cared about how he felt, his future, and his well-being, sometimes she felt like a second mom.

As a black, young man, there seemed to be too many strikes against him in the community. Most fellows like himself were targeted as criminals by the police; and within the community of Saint Vincent, they either pushed a mop, dumped garbage, sold dope, or flipped burgers in a fast-food joint to make a living. Never did the thought of being anything else pass Marcus’ mind. Only the well-educated and privileged middle-class folks who lived uptown had the best jobs in the city. Nonetheless, he knew he was good with math; and thanks to his teacher, he was inspired to pursue a teaching career in mathematics.

Thank you, Mrs. Robbins. The words of gratitude echoed through his thoughts as he adjusted his black necktie in his dresser mirror.

“Hey, Marcus! Are you ready? Your mom said she’s waiting for us at the airport!” His father called from the small living room of their apartment.

Marcus fixed his white tassel and smiled. “Uh, yeah! Coming, Dad!” He took a folded piece of paper from his dresser and stuffed it in a side pocket of his dress pants under his gown. With one last look at himself in the mirror, he released a slow breath and relaxed his shoulders. Well, this is it.

He left his bedroom and closed the door.

***

“Marcus Anthony Gooding!” Mr. Jefferson, the President of Frederick Douglass University, announced over the microphone.

Bright lights flashed in his face as the rowdy crowd of spectators cheered for him. He walked across the wooden stage to receive his GED degree. Marcus’s heart throbbed from the excitement and anxiety of being in the spotlight.

An elderly, African American gentleman in a gray suit grinned and shook his hand. “Congratulations, young man. Great job!” He handed him a black diploma stamped with gold print.

“Thank you, sir.” Marcus took his diploma in both his hands and faced the crowd with the biggest smile he could give, posing for a snapshot for the photographer.

“Go, Marcus!” His family clapped and rooted for him from the audience as he cleared the stage.

It was one of the happiest times of his life, but he wouldn’t have done this without the help of his teacher. Before he left home, he wrote Mrs. Robbins a letter of appreciation. Coming back to school and swallowing his ego wasn’t an easy thing to do after the disrespect he’d shown her. But she never once said, “I told you so.” She never made him feel unwelcomed, but she was thrilled and relieved for his return; and most importantly, that he was still alive. Kids who dropped out of school in the city often ended up dead or in jail.

Guardian angels truly looked out for him during his nights out on the street corner, selling drugs to drive-in customers. Anything could’ve happened, as he’d heard of some getting shot and killed on the spot. Getting caught by the police for vandalizing her and her pastor’s church with the gang was a blessing in disguise. Although he’d been stubborn and hardheaded, he was ever so grateful Pastor Johnson hadn’t pressed charges against him.

After the ceremony, Marcus grouped up with his family while his classmates and their families helped themselves to refreshments of chocolate chip cookies and fruit punch. The commotion in the lobby was almost overbearing, filled with voices of laughter and chatter of congratulations and other forms of praise.

“I’m so proud of you, son.” Marcus’ mom embraced him.

He grinned. “Thanks, Mom.” He surveyed the massive room. “Where’s Mrs. Robbins? I have something to give her.”

His dad and little cousin Chris looked around the crowd of bobbing heads.

“I don’t know. She was around here a minute ago,” Marcus’ mom said.  

His father nudged his mother. “Uh, Gladys, could I speak with you privately, please?”

“Certainly.” Marcus’ mom followed her husband, and they stood away from the others, discussing matters over with each other.

Marcus and Chris observed the middle-aged couple as they talked, hugged, and then lightly kissed.

Chris laughed and looked at Marcus. “Hmm, looks like your mom might be moving back in town.”

“Yeah, looks that way,” Marcus said.

“I’m hungry. I’m going to get some snacks.” Chris walked over to the refreshment table.

Marcus spotted his teacher amid the crowd, standing beside an adorable little girl with long ponytails who looked at least ten or eleven. At that moment, his parents and cousin returned to him.

His father checked the time on his watch. “It’s almost eight soon. We all better get a move on.”

“Wait a second, Dad. I want to speak with Mrs. Robbins,” Marcus said.

His father arched his brow and tapped his watch. “All right, but make it snappy.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus walked and jostled through the crowd to his history teacher. He tossed his crinkled napkin and empty cup in the trashcan on the way to her.

Clara-Marie turned around and grinned. “Hey, congratulations!” She embraced the teenage boy who stood slightly taller than her and introduced her daughter Ava who had come with her and her younger brother Demetrius to the graduation ceremony.

“Nice to meet you.” Marcus moved his tassel from his face and turned his attention back to his teacher.  His eyes became moist, but he bit his lower lip and held back his tears. “I uh . . . just wanted to give you this note.” He pulled the letter out of his side pocket, handed it to her, and swiped a finger past his runny nose. “Just a token of gratitude.”

“Why, thank you, Marcus,” Clara-Marie said.

“Hey, Marcus! Time to go!” His father called.

Marcus blushed. “Whoops, guess I better go now. Bye, take care.”

“Bye, Marcus,” Clara-Marie said, hugging him again. “Best wishes through college!”

Marcus left and joined his family through the exit doors.

When he was gone, Clara-Marie opened the letter and skimmed the note:

 Dear Mrs. Robbins,

I don’t show my emotions too much, but I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. Words cannot express how much you inspire me. I’ve decided to be a teacher who mentors and helps students like you. To me, you’ve been the best teacher I ever had in my whole life. Thank you so much for your help, encouragement, and always believing in me. I promise I will make you proud in the near future.

Your Pupil,

Marcus Anthony Gooding

Clara-Marie smiled through her tears. “Thank you, Marcus.” She nodded in response to his last words of the note before his closing remarks. “I know you will, Marcus. I know you will…”

THE END

[1290 words]