I was that kid; that nerdy kid who “got in trouble” for reading in class instead of listening to the teacher’s lecture (though I’d already finished the work); that kid who had debates with her friends over which characters were better, over which ships were cuter; that kid who, one day, realized she could take the imaginary worlds she’d spent so long living in, and learn to make worlds of her own.
Yes, I was that kid.
I am that kid.
Now a young woman, I’m here, at Cal Poly SLO, working towards a degree that will equip me to share the worlds I create with other people. If it wasn’t for some very special women who taught me and encouraged me along the way, I would be on a much different path. This Women’s History Month, I’d like to take the time to honor them.
I started writing my first novel in fifth grade (way earlier than I had any business publishing—more on that later). My best friend at the time and I received permission from our teacher—the first woman who pivotally shaped me as a writer—to go outside when the rest of the class was free-writing in response to journal prompts and work on our own novels, unprompted. Together, we exchanged bits and pieces of the authors that had influenced us, crafting unique storylines, drawing on the humor and wit of so many characters we loved. Our teacher continued to encourage us, allowing us our time outside during class to explore and develop our newfound passion. I remember confiding in her that I wanted to publish the book I was working on. What she said next, I will never forget: she told me she knew an editor she could connect me to when—not if—I finished it. She believed in me then, and her confidence helped me continue pursuing that dream. The novel I was working on then? Yeah, still in the works—much advanced, much more sophisticated, but still rooted in the same childhood dream. I plan on including my fifth-grade teacher in the dedication because without her, I would not have stayed with my dream this long.
From sixth grade through high school, every English teacher I had was a woman. With each one came more stories of encouragement, confidence-building and skill development. For example, my sixth grade teacher gave me extra credit for a short story I wrote, leaving only positive and enthusiastic comments on it. Similarly, my seventh grade teacher told me my historical narrative assignment was written like a professional author. My eighth grade teacher made me yearbook editor and her teacher’s assistant, praising my work endlessly. In three short years of middle school, each of these women shaped me profoundly. But there was even more to come.
I started high school and immediately connected with my ninth grade teacher—even over Zoom—who would later write me a glowing letter of recommendation for scholarships, in which she lauded my grasp of the English language. Tenth grade was a milestone year for me as my teacher encouraged me to publish a short story in my school’s literary magazine; this was the first time I’d ever shared my writing with an audience. Then there was my eleventh grade teacher, who immensely strengthened my argumentative writing, helping me begin to harness my creative voice in argument and uncover a new strength. And, finally, my twelfth grade teacher, who aided in my discovery of my love for literature, encouraged my dreams as a writer—increasing my sense of career-efficacy as I began to consider teaching—and eventually celebrated my commitment to study English at Cal Poly.
Each of these women has left a lasting impression on me. If not for them, I would not have had the glimmer of hope that I needed to consider a career as an author—leaving behind plans for a potentially more practical STEM career—and apply to English programs when it finally came time for college. Each of these women has shown me the power of words in many different ways. It is in their honor that I seek to use my words powerfully to encourage and instruct others, to carry on their legacy and to potentially, one day, give another young girl with a bright pink composition notebook the green light to keep going, to keep chasing her dreams. Because that girl was me once, and since that first green light, that girl has come so far, molded by the women who came before her.
So, Happy Women’s History Month to all women chasing their dreams, and especially to the women who’ve encouraged me to chase mine. Thank you.