Recently, I’ve had two reminders of the profound difference that teachers can make in the lives of their students – emphasis on profound. I worry that I’m among those who have devalued the phrase “teachers change lives” by using it too often. Yes, the phrase is accurate. Yes, I’m sincere when I say it. But I don’t often stop to consider how inadequate it is. Teachers can alter the very shape of our lives, influencing the paths that we choose to follow and the outcomes of those journeys. That’s the level of impact that I’ve been thinking about, with gratitude and respect, these past few weeks. I hope these stories will remind you of the teachers who changed your life.
I was 15, just starting high school, and lost. Junior high had not gone well. I had yet to find my tribe and had no specific college or career goals. Home was no refuge. My mother was an alcoholic, and the atmosphere at home was chaotic and sometimes frightening. I didn’t have a sense of safety or belonging anywhere.
All this happened a long time ago, so registering for classes was still happening in person. And there were some classes only open to students who had the teacher’s permission to enroll. One of those classes was a journalism class focused on creating the school yearbook. The class appealed to me for several reasons. I liked to write, and I thought that exposure to the basics of journalism would be helpful. I liked the idea of being part of a team creating something together. And I liked the idea of having something concrete to show for my work at the end of the year.
Those reasons must have been persuasive to my counselor (the first gatekeeper in the registration process), because she sent me to meet with the teacher, Mrs. Cummings. I’d like to say that I did a fantastic job of selling myself during that first conversation. But the truth is that I don’t remember that first conversation. And it seems highly unlikely that I was fantastic. I was painfully shy. To say that I lacked confidence would be an understatement. And amidst the chaos at home, I had a tough time trusting people; I was wary. Despite all that, I persuaded Mrs. Cummings to let me enroll in the class.
Then it all fell apart. I’ve forgotten the details, but I do remember that there was some required course I had to take and the only open time slot was the same time as the journalism class. My counselor told me that it was too bad, but there was nothing she could do: I would have to enroll in the required class and drop journalism. Back I went to Mrs. Cummings, this time to apologize for not being able to take her class after all.
That second conversation is the one I remember. I told her about the required class and the scheduling, and told her I was disappointed not to take her class. I expected a polite acknowledgement. Instead, she told me that it didn’t sound like a difficult problem to solve. Then she offered to work it out with the other teacher and my counselor, and reassured me that I shouldn’t worry about it.
No one had ever advocated for me like that. I never heard all the details of how she worked it out, but work it out she did and when school started I was enrolled in her class and in the required course.
Thus began a three-year teacher/student partnership and a lifelong friendship. It’s no exaggeration to say that my life would not be the same had she not gone to bat for me. I served on the yearbook staff throughout high school, and served as the editor in my senior year. As I’d hoped, I did learn the basics of journalism. I also learned leadership skills, and I used all that she taught me through the first part of my career. As a junior, I enrolled in her photography class, which meant I was in her classroom two periods a day. Initially, I just wanted to learn the basics of composition and other elements of photography so that I could feel more confident about the editorial choices I was making. But behind the camera I discovered a creative passion I hadn’t realized was there. Photography has been my creative outlet ever since, and as I got better I began entering competitions, participating in art shows and placing my work in galleries.
All of this, of course, is exactly how teacher/student relationships are supposed to work. But Billie Cummings always saw her job as more than just imparting information. She was interested in her students as people. I remember her asking me to stay after class one afternoon. A couple of days earlier she had given me some feedback (I don’t remember what it was about), and it hadn’t gone well. I had responded as a very typical teenager: withdrawn and sulky. Billie was not going to have any of that. But I didn’t get a lecture. Instead, a got a lesson in feedback: Why it’s important, how to use it, and how to respond to it graciously. That conversation was one of the most important I ever had.
I was one of many students whose lives Billie changed, and many of us stayed in touch with her after we graduated. After she and her family relocated, we saw each other less often. When we were able to meet, it was always just like old times. So, I was devastated when she called me in the final hours of 2023 to let me know that she was terminally ill. She said that she was calling to say goodbye, and that she wanted me to know what I had meant to her. I told her the same, and we both cried.
I couldn’t let things end on such a sad note. A couple of weeks later, I drove to Northern California to see her one final time and to say goodbye in person. I was determined that we were going to have a good time, and we did. We let the previous phone call do the heavy emotional lifting, and even though we both knew it would be the last time we saw each other we acted as if it were an ordinary visit. We went to lunch, we played with her cats, we laughed about old times and we talked about the work I’m doing now.
Billie passed away last week, and although I knew it was coming I still wasn’t ready. I don’t think we ever are. I miss her, of course, and always will. But I will also be forever grateful that she was part of my life. Billie changed many lives, and left the world a better place than she found it. She was a great teacher, a great friend, and a remarkable person. We can all learn from that.
