I remember when I first discovered I could write. It was in Composition class my sophomore year of high school. After a couple of days of explaining the concept of transitions, our teacher, Mr. Dennis Wisniewski, sent us home with an assignment. We were to write a three-paragraph essay on a subject of our choosing and effectively use transitions between each paragraph.
I can’t say this struck me as a particularly challenging assignment. I don’t recall the topic of my paper, nor do I recall it taking me long to draft, but I do remember being concerned with neatness. You see, back in the day we put pen to paper. Few families could afford typewriters. Even if your family was fortunate enough to own one, most sophomores hadn’t taken typing class yet, so what good was it?
I wrote my paper that evening in ink and turned it in the next day. I’m confident I was more concerned about whether Mr. Wisniewski would think my subject was stupid than whether or not I effectively used transitions.
Wrong!
The disgust was clearly evident on Mr. Wisniewski’s face as he returned our papers. Not one to hide his emotions, the man lumbered up and down the rows dropping, flinging and sometimes fist-stomping assignments on my peer’s desks. He had some choice words for a few of the students, and believe me, he was not being gracious. This man took his job seriously and he must have felt he seriously failed us.
What if I failed? As he drew close to me, I became very nervous. Suddenly, he was standing over me. He took a deep breath followed by a slow and exaggerated exhale. Then he spoke, and I noticed a definite change in his tone of voice. I was stunned. Mr. Wisniewski seemed to be giving me a compliment. His words escape me today, but as my paper came into view, what he wrote in bright red ink at the top of my paper seared into my brain:
Thank you, Mr. Beasley, for not making my evening a total waste! Grade: A-
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