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Death Brings Back Memories

I learned yesterday that a woman who served as my high school Forensics Speech Coach my senior year passed away. My first reaction was shock because she wasn't that old--only 59--which means she was barely out of college when she began teaching at my high school.

Then I started thinking about how she treated me at McKinley. She wasn't very nice to me and even though I was a state and national champion, she made it obvious that she preferred another student over me. If it hadn't been for her assistant (Ms. Harriet Weaver), I would've quit the team and gave up any opportunity to receive scholarship money to continue on the Forensics Team in college.

Now, this is where I could throw out the race card and say she was prejudiced. I don't know that for sure but I can tell you I made no effort to contact her over the years to tell her of my progress in life.

I do believe it is wrong to speak ill of the dead so all I have to say is "may she rest in peace somewhere."

Comments

PopArtDiva said…
We can only be thankful for Ms. Weaver's encouragement to you!

As for your late speech coach - maybe her unfairness was an impetus to truly build your desire and dig your heels in and go for what you wanted in life.

It is a shame when our educators practice discrimination and bring their own personal prejudices to play. They are dealing with young people in the times of their highest insecurities and in the formative years. One word or phrase from someone in a position of authority can crush a budding future!

It is fortunate for us that you are made of stronger stuff and could forge forward despite the lack of sense and integrity present in this person who attempted to keep you down.

You were a Diva even then!
Anonymous said…
Hi. I too was a Forensic Student at McKinley coached by Ms. Bonnie (Schlote) Myers who I just found out died suddenly at 59 in June of this year. I knew another side, a kind and caring very private woman who invited me into her parents' home to sit with her ailing cancer-ridden father when I was only 15. She carried that sadness without people like you knowing. You misinterpreted meanness for pain. It's not always about you.

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