The one thing teachers cannot teach — earning trust from their students
The one thing teachers cannot teach — earning trust from their students
Why my Creative Writing teacher became my liaison in a sexual harassment incident
Writer’s note: This post was originally published on Medium’s “We Need to Talk” on May 2, 2020.
Journaling was what did it. That was what made me ask my Creative Writing teacher about a job interview experience before I even thought to ask my mother or close friends. But it was more than just writing. It was the relationship she’d built with her students (like me) before the incident occurred.
Junior year, Cinderella and the ex
During my junior year of high school (and senior year), I had a Creative Writing teacher who I thought was one of the dopest instructors since Mr. Clark*. Blonde, curly-haired cut, rosy-cheeked and usually peering behind spectacles, she was the teacher whose class I looked forward to most. I could’ve done without her obsession with assigning us to read William Shakespeare, but it was more than obvious that she loved the man’s literature. Still though, she also stayed in tune with what our class wanted to do. My favorite writing assignment with her was re-creating a nursery rhyme to the beat of a song. I chose rewriting the “Cinderella” story to Missy Elliott’s “Sock It to Me” (produced by Timbaland).
It was just around midnight
On a late-night creep
My stepmom is sweatin’ me
While I’m trying to par-ty
But there was one other assignment that I enjoyed even more than that. She would make us journal for about 30 minutes (and sometimes the entire class) about whatever was on our minds. She also asked us to draw a star at the top of each page to notify her of whether we were OK with her reading what we wrote. At the end of class, we turned in our composition books.
He explained that I would be his “concubine” and “companion” on these trips, as well as a “secretary,” and I did the one thing people should never do — nodded my head without knowing what the definition of a word means.
Obviously, she could’ve snuck and read whatever she wanted to — starred or not. The books were hers for the night. And I couldn’t tell you whether she did so anyway. I just know I always marked a star on mine because I wanted to read her jokes outside of the margins or get her two cents on my thoughts. There was one particular breakup I was going through, and I noticed that her comments were far more useful than they were judgmental. (I’m pretty sure I didn’t mention his age, only how frustrating the whole experience was.)
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In my senior year, I was suspended from school for carrying a pocket knife. (It was a Girl Scout pocket knife that I kept in my bookbag because I had an after-school job and came home pretty late.) She was one of the first people I wanted to see upon my return. The first thing she did was clown me for trying to prove my street cred with a Girl Scout knife — of all the possible weapons I could’ve been caught with. While I knew she would have jokes, in the middle of laughing and complaining about wanting my pocket knife back, I thanked her for dutifully helping a friend deliver my writing assignments so I could still graduate on time — Cum Laude, thank you very much.
Taking my teacher’s ‘keep in touch’ yearbook message literally
Teachers cannot teach students to trust them. That has to come naturally. I’ve had a handful of teachers who I really trusted and still believe were essential in me becoming the full-time writer and editor I am today (and a couple of editors).
During my college years, I kept in touch with her via email and I vaguely remember talking to her on College Club. (If you have never heard of it, imagine what Facebook was like when it only allowed college students in. Now add the dating perks of Black Planet and the casual discussion forums of MySpace. Voila!)
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By that time, my focus was on finding a job after college so I could move out of my parents’ home. And I was applying to anything, whether it fit my degree area or not. However, I learned the hard way that college grads learning the ins and outs of the workforce should be more particular about the jobs they apply for — and not just because we want to work in our degree fields.
The job interview that went wrong
I’d already had at least a decade in clerical experience thanks to my mother being a credit union manager. I thought I could easily nail a job as a part-time receptionist. I typed 81 words per minute, and could file and fax like nobody’s business.
When my resume was accepted by an independent real estate investor, I thought this job would be a win-win. I’d learn more about home ownership, get paid and have a new job to add on my resume that didn’t include sneaking my mother in as my work reference. (Thirty-five years and retired now, she earned her way to being my work reference and was one of my most no-nonsense bosses.) I didn’t think much of the real estate investor asking for a photo to accompany my resume. I was a vain 20-something-year-old who thought it was a great idea to send amateur model photos as Christmas greeting cards. I had plenty of selfies just ready to share.
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The investor wanted to meet immediately, but I warned him that I was already out and not in “job interview clothes.” Still, he asked me to come in — even though I was wearing a pair of Baby Phat jeans and a casual tee. It wasn’t revealing, but it was definitely unprofessional. Fast-forward through a job interview of me explaining all of my clerical skills and my interest in real estate investing, and him sitting there quietly just watching me. By the end of the interview, he told me to return again with “secretary attire on” so he could make his decision. I agreed, even though I thought it was overkill considering it would’ve been a two-person office. Still though, the next day, I showed up in an ankle-length skirt, a button-up blouse and flats.
He took one look at the outfit and said it wasn’t “quite right.” I raised an eyebrow and asked about my work qualifications. He explained that they “would do” and I was hired. He mentioned a few work events that I would be required to attend to help with pursuing new contracts and potential investors — most out-of-state. I agreed happily. Travel perks? Sounds good to me. He explained that I would be his “concubine” and “companion” on these trips, as well as a “secretary,” and I did the one thing people should never do — nodded my head without knowing what the definition of a word means. I left that job interview feeling strange but not sure why I felt strange about it. So I did what I always do. I wrote my thoughts down in my journal. And that lead me right back to junior year of high school with my Creative Writing teacher. I realized I wanted to draw a star on the top of that entry so she could read it.