This is a letter to a former instructor of mine.
As a freshman, I idolized you. You were strict, but seemingly fair towards your students. I was an aspiring author, as I still am, and you were a language arts teacher. I assumed you could be my mentor and further my writing...
Instead, this is what happened:
My sophomore year, I approached you to further myself. You let my dreams sit on your desk for months, without even glancing at them. I was crushed. After finally getting my unfinished manuscript back from you, I took it home and I burned it. I lost my passion for writing and I fell into a depression.
You grew more and more bitter towards me every year, for reasons I knew naught. I excelled in all of your classes, I was a good patient student who rarely spoke unless speaking was needed, I didn't cause trouble, I did my assignments, and I was intelligent! You had no reason to treat me like the dirt you did.
I came to a realization my Senior year, you only liked a specific handful of students. The same sarcastic cynical brats, who idolized you, yet turned around and talked poorly about you behind your back. They were the gossiping pricks who took your "special" classes and did you "special" favors. They were your minions, your babies, and you were their God.
I graduated, inviting you to my party because you made a point to say if you had a time and place, you would be sure to go to everyone's party... You never came. It only edged my bitter anger deeper. Why didn't you go to my party? You picked me, the one person who for no reason at all, you hated more than any other student... Me. Probably the best student you will ever have had... and you didn't go.
I went to your play, the next year, to say "Hi, how are you?" and when you saw me, the first thing you said, "You were never my favorite student."
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Why? What was the purpose of saying that to me?
I sat down, solemnly, gritting my teeth and fighting back the angry tears, my friend put me in his arms and said, "You know why he hates you, don't you?"
"No!" I cried out, the seething anger boiling and festering in my body.
"Because he was going to be an author, but his book sucked, so he was turned down. Now he's a bitter old man and no one likes him."
It hit me then. He was right. You are just a bitter man. You failed at your one dream, and I reminded you of yourself. An inspired filled young author, who knew where she was going and what she wanted to do. You wanted to kick the dirt off of your feet, but instead, you got stuck in the mud. You became a bitter High School teacher, so you could destroy the dreams of those after you.
You almost did it, you fucking bastard. You almost made me think I couldn't do it. I was about to take your road. I made jokes of taking your job even. I know, I would never be a good teacher... and you aren't a good teacher. You settled, and know this you raging pile of dog shit, I will not settle. I will become an author, because you failed. You did not dispirit me, you only made me stronger. If I can survive unnecessary scrutiny for four years, I can do anything.
You, old man, go on. Continue being bitter, continue being hateful towards your students, continue being the jerk you are... and know that you failed. I am going to be more successful than you could ever have imagined.
You gave up too easily. I hope you enjoy your the life you settled for, you bitter toad. To all the times you deliberately forgot I existed. To all of the down putting things you did to me. To everything you ever said to try and get under my skin or hurt my feelings, I give them all back to you now, you ugly fuck. I am going to become a renowned author, and you are going to continue being a penniless instructor for the school district.
Shame on you for trying to destroy a young girl's dreams.
Sincerely,
Jessica Dawn Tracy
P.S.
Fuck you. :)
