By Javier Garcia, Asst. Section Editor
Where do I start with Ms. Wilson.
I shared a feeling that many students might’ve had with Ms. Wilson, and that was the complete dread of her class my freshman year due to such heavy homework loads and the limitless essays we wrote in her class. Towards the end of the year, especially approaching testing time, I started to realize how much better my writing had gotten from her class and she deserved all the credit. It clicked like one of those light-bulb moments you see in cartoons: There was such a beautiful method to her madness.
Then came around my sophomore year and I had her again on my schedule. I will be honest: Most of my peers who had her last year were not happy. To be frank, I too was not jumping with joy either as I was just returning from an extremely lazy summer and was not ready to take that work once more.
Then again, that light bulb turned back on after about three weeks of her class once more, and though I did not enjoy it not one bit, I was grateful for the work at the end of the day. I can credit her for so much of my work and the way I write to this day and to my success.
Coming around my second year with her I was her “class favorite” as she was extremely fond of my work and only sought the best out of me, pushing me to write more short stories and how she expected a better one than my ninth grade literary fair short story this year.
She even pulled off something no other teacher could do in all my years of being a student, and that is to actually make me want to learn poetry.
I couldn’t count the conversations we started to share before or after school, whether it was about school or small encounters in life you could often take for granted. She even shared many stories to her class, taking time away from all the work to give her students a break, a chance to feel the warmth of a human life in what can sometimes feel like the robotic life of an honors student.
She told every story one of these stories, taught every lesson, spoke to every student with a smile on her face. She brought about the positive outlook on life that often most students are lacking buried deep in the life of school, regardless of having what could be one of the worst situations handed to someone in life.
This had not been her first fight. She knew of this condition, she lived with it every day of the past 20 years, and she did possibly one of the most selfless acts I have ever witnessed with my own eyes.
Instead of focusing on herself she continued to educate young people and pass priceless wisdom down to other people.
She spent most of her time, not knowing how much of it she had left, seeking the betterment of other people and constantly focusing on others, not for the paycheck but for the chance to do what she wanted to do.
Her final wishes were not to travel the world, or to live the life as carefree as a billionaire for a day, they were to help shape the future of hundreds of kids too young to understand what she is doing for them.
For that, I am forever grateful for the mountains of homework I did Sunday nights, the essays that just seemed to pile up taller than myself, the hours of Shakespeare in class, the minutes learning more grammar than I could possibly ever need, the timeless stories, and for Ms. Wilson herself.
There are plenty of ways to show my thanks but there’s only one thing left to say.
Farewell, Ms. Wilson.
Posted: May 23