An overdue thank you

I need to say thank you.

The other night I watched Mr. Holland's Opus. I get so choked up at the end of that movie, when Mr. Holland's students try in their own ways to express just how much his mentorship meant to each of them.

It's easy to watch that movie and just think about my own life, and how I want to live the type of life that's worthy of that kind of celebration. Which is true (who doesn't). But perhaps even more importantly, that film makes me think that I want to be the type of person that's ready and eager to give my thanks to those who have made a difference to me.

In high school, I had a teacher named Mr. Norris. Of all the teachers I have ever had in any subject, Mr. Norris remains my hands-down favorite. He taught history and economics, and did them both so well that I considered majoring in economics for one wild moment in college, notwithstanding the fact that I really dread math. He made it that fun and interesting. (I still find economics fascinating to this day, and I owe that one hundred percent to him and 0% to my college econ professor).

Mr. Norris is the very first person that encouraged me to write. I was startled, to be honest, when he said nice things about my writing - I liked writing, and had always gotten good grades on papers, but no one had really sat me down and said you have talent the words any teenager craves to hear about anything, anything at all. But he did.

He talked me through college application essays and my hazy, unformed views of my own future. Mr. Norris encouraged all of us to read the news for ourselves, to know what was going on and what we personally thought about it. We would talk about these things, important things, in the minutes after class before the bell rang - things like 9/11, and Enron, and the early days of Afghanistan and Iraq.

So thank you, Mr. Norris. Thank you for taking interest in me, and stretching my mind and understanding of my world and capabilites.

You made a difference in my life.

For that, I am so grateful.