My Mean Schoolteacher and Fear

Fear shows up when something in the world threatens us, whether the threat is real or only imagined, and it sets off the fight-or-flight reaction. Nobody gets through life without it. Mine has a face attached to it: a High School teacher with a vicious temper who could make a whole classroom tremble just by looking our way, even when none of us had done a single thing wrong.

She held a lot of power over us. As deputy headmaster she ran the school whenever the headmaster stepped out, and she was also our class teacher, which meant we sat under her watch for most of the day. There was no corner of the schedule where we were safe from her mood.

One afternoon during prep time a few girls started giggling quietly. Hardly anyone noticed. She did, and she swept in like we had committed some serious offense and punished the entire class. We tried telling her it was only a couple of students laughing at nothing, but she wouldn't hear it and kept the group punishment anyway.

I tried the obvious defense: stay invisible and do well in her subjects. It backfired. When my marks came in above her favorites, she'd order me out of the room during lessons, announcing that I clearly already knew everything and had no reason to be taught. So I tried writing a few wrong answers on purpose to avoid being singled out. That failed too. She'd scold me and the others, insisting we knew the correct answers all along. There was no safe move to make.

The pressure didn't stop at grades. As the school's career advisor she filled out our Job Path Recommendation Forms. Some students were trusted to complete their own, but she summoned me into her office and filled out mine herself, writing down that I should train as a nurse. I had no interest in the nursing track. When I said so, she threatened me with expulsion. What I actually wanted was accounting, and even while she frightened me, that pull was strong enough that I decided to put my head down and work harder than I ever had.

Then came the final exam results. The headmaster had fallen ill, so once again she was running the entire school, and I couldn't make myself go in to see how I'd done. Every time I pictured walking onto the school grounds to check my scores, I started shaking and put the trip off again. My father finally stepped in and made me go.

When I got there my legs gave out. I sat on the ground for hours, swallowed up by dread of this woman. I kept imagining her laughing if I'd failed, or pushing the nursing path on me if I'd passed. The thought of a career around blood horrified me; I couldn't even hold the picture in my head.

Something settled in me that afternoon. I understood that no teacher, however harsh, actually owned my future. The results waiting in that office were mine. I had studied hard and done the best I could, which was all anyone was supposed to do, and I owed nothing to someone who ran people by frightening them.

So I stood up and walked straight into her office. The first surprise was her face: she was smiling, which I had never seen. She handed me the list of scores but played a little game, not telling me outright which numbers were mine. When it came out, I was among the top students in the whole school. She hugged me and offered congratulations. The year was ending and her manner toward me had already started to change.

I left the building that day holding onto one idea. When circumstances line up against you and seem bent on holding you back or doing you harm, the answer is to push past it and aim to be among the best. Don't surrender and don't quit. Do whatever the moment requires to get through, even on the days you don't feel like doing anything at all.