That One Teacher: The Influence of Educators in Unexpected Places

“Years down the line, I am sure my tutees will not recall details of their sessions at the Writing Center. If they do not remember the methods behind crafting a thesis or embedding a citation, I hope, above all else, that they remember the feeling of the Writing Center and the possibilities it represents.”

Last month, I had the opportunity to interview Pat Mitchell, the first woman president of PBS and CNN Productions, as part of a feminist interview for the Institute for Women’s Leadership at Rutgers University. One of the first comments she made during our conversation was about the influence her English teacher had on her from middle school, who encouraged her to explore opportunities, both in and outside the classroom, to break out of her small town, and eventually, to embark on a career in journalism. 

Throughout the day, I found myself thinking back to that comment and reflecting on the influence mentors have had on me, sometimes unknowingly, over the years. 

I think back to the day leading up to high school graduation when I visited my middle school, to open a time capsule I had packed away in a manilla envelope, sealed with bright scarlet “R”, four years prior. My eighth grade English teacher asked me if I was planning to attend Rutgers University to which I explained yes, and for a major in Journalism and Media Studies. She peered back at me with a shy smile in between the corners of her gray pixie cut and said it didn’t surprise her that I wanted to become a writer. 

I think back to my journalism teacher from high school who connected me with a nonprofit to increase their event coverage, helped me land my first internship with a local publication and even gifted me a bracelet that said “you got this” upon graduation. Every time I am preparing questions for an interview or listening to audio transcripts for quote verification, I look down to the square beads of that bracelet and am reminded of why I am taking a chance on journalism. 

I think back to my Writing for Media professor, who told me “don’t be afraid to admit you’re doing something right” when I was overly insecure to share that I thought I had found my writing voice as a first-year student, an objective he had laid out for all of us to achieve by the end of the semester. 

And I think back to my program director, and hometown’s teen librarian, and so many more. 

As Mason Gross School of the Arts alum Sheryl Lee Ralph said when reflecting on her character of Barbara Howard, a kindergarten teacher at Philadelphia’s Abbott Elementary School, “she might not remember you ten years from now, but you’ll never forget her.”

While I doubt any of these instructors remember making these comments towards me, I reminisce about these moments with such gratitude, and it makes me wonder if small interactions at the Writing Center hold the same significance for students who frequent them through the semester, too. 

At first, tutoring at the Writing Center was a matter of logging onto a Zoom call, providing feedback on various coursework and reflecting on each session in a journal entry. Over the past semester, however, I have learned that the role of a tutor goes far beyond these simple tasks. 

Even virtually, these meetings have become a place where unexpected mentorship forms and confidence blooms. While I do not have extensive credentials next to my name, I am able to offer similar comments to that of the aforementioned teachers. In fact, at the end of every session, I remind my tutees of my weekly availability and invite them to visit the Writing Center again should they wish to revisit their assignment once more. Just like a classroom, even though students tend to come and go, the Writing Center is always a safe space for them to return. 

Specifically, one of my favorite memories from this semester’s tutoring was when my tutee said she felt confident moving forward to work independently on her paper and that my assistance during our brief 50-minute session really helped her better understand the direction of her assignment. 

Years down the line, I am sure my tutees will not recall details of their sessions at the Writing Center. They will likely forget my name, the assignment they came in with and the sources they were forced to string along. If they do not remember the methods behind crafting a thesis or embedding a citation, I hope, above all else, that they remember the feeling of the Writing Center and the possibilities it represents. I hope they remember “that one teacher” or one comment, for that matter, can make all the difference in a student’s academic journey. 

Perhaps that is how I will remember the Writing Center: a collection of session notes, Murray Hall fortune cookie messages and Penji notifications tucked away in an imaginary memory box and wrapped with a bright scarlet “R”, waiting to be uncovered in ten years’ time.