A teacher who made a difference
Way back in the Dark Ages - when I was in high school - I had a few great teachers, plus some real terrors. (Ah, the stories I could tell…)
But sticking to the positive, one English teacher I had was so cool. Byronic sometimes. Tragic. But endlessly interesting and unpredictable. (Is there anything else we really crave as high-schoolers?) He’d throw books and tell us he was wearing a dead man’s clothes. He read us poetry, sometimes his own. He marked like a bastard. He showed me that writing mattered. And writers.
So thank you, Grenfell Featherstone. I’m so glad you had your moment in the sun yesterday.
