My Teacher

There's always that one teacher who stands out from all the others, the one who has the most influence on you. While I had some terrific teachers and professors, I would have to say that "one teacher" for me was Kay Cannon.

Yes, I'm referring to her in the past tense, and not just because it's been more than a decade since high school. I found out today that she passed away from pancreatic cancer; she died sometime last night, or earlier this morning.

I knew this was coming (in contrast to my dad, who literally dropped dead), but death still has that nasty way of catching you off guard and crushing you. I'm still pretty numb about the whole thing; it's like a part of you expects to wake up and have things be different, even as another part of you knows better.

Kay Cannon was amazing, for lack of a better word. I was lucky enough to have her twice, in my sophomore and senior year. She taught my big sister, too.

Her class was easily the most fun, and probably the one where my classmates behaved the best. I had some very talkative, disruptive, and downright rowdy classmates, often to the point where I couldn't hear myself think. But Mrs. Cannon had that way of getting everybody to behave without raising her voice; I don't believe I ever saw her lose her temper.

Not only was she contagiously bubbly, but I think her true impact was her faith in her students, her belief in us as future writers. In my case, that means a lot.

I was going through one of those typical teenage funks; I didn't have many friends, my grades weren't the most ideal, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do after graduation (if I even graduated in the first place), and while I was far from depressed or suicidal, I didn't have much self-esteem, either. I often wondered whether anybody really noticed me or cared, whether I was really good at anything or for anything.

You could say I was the wilting flower and Mrs. Cannon was the watering can.

She not only made me feel better about myself, but she praised my work so much (as amateurish and silly as it was back then) and kept insisting I should be an author (or seriously consider becoming an author), to the point where I started to think, "Maybe she's right. Maybe I should take her advice."

Long story short: I graduated from Weber State University with a Bachelor's degree in Creative Writing, and while I've yet to officially publish anything, I've got a bunch of writings in the works that I hope to see in permanent print someday. Recently, I was able to show Mrs. Cannon via Facebook a short story I was almost finished with, and she was excited for me. Her last words to me were that I had always been talented.

If not writing, she gave my life some direction when I had no direction at all. She gave me something to hold onto, to strive for, to put sincere time and effort into, for which I will always be grateful.

So while I knew this would happen, while I'm glad she's not suffering anymore (cancer is a terrible way to go), the news of her death still hits hard. I'm going to keep my eye open for an obituary and funeral details, and I've let some of my old high school buddies know the news as well. I owe her that much.

I hope my dad was there to tell her hello.