By Dinah Henry
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When I was in high school, I kept telling myself that tomorrow would be a better day. Well that only happened for the weekends. My high school years were pretty much a disaster. I barely had teachers that guided me with support and helped me to see the real world. Instead I had a teacher who was mostly nothing but cruel that you have to be cruel right back at her, so you can get help from her.
Her name was Mrs. Winslow. She always hated me for some reason. She also was scared of me for proving her wrong because I graduated high school so I can prove her wrong of what she said to me when I was in high school that one day.
It was open house that day, after school and I don’t remember which parent was with me when I heard these words out of her lips. “Ha, Dinah, you probably are not going to graduate high school and if you do, you will never handle college.” When I heard those words, I wanted to show her who she really was talking to. And so I did.
She hated when I was showing how much I was working on my homework, but she also hated how I spent my free time in study hall when I was done working on my homework. It was like she didn’t even want me there. She was my IEP supervisor/English teacher/ and mostly my study hall teacher throughout high school. I showed her that if I could be really good in her special ed english class, I would do good in a regular english class. But she always told me that since my time in special ed, I was probably never going to get out of it. And she made sure of it until I graduated high school.
One day when I was just getting used to my new pair of glasses and finally got my headaches under control. She told me to stop skipping school because she was afraid that I would drop out of school or fall back into my freshman year of high school. She didn’t even want any excuses why I was missing days of school. She just told me to stop.
I was crying that rest of the day and the next day I was still very upset and other teachers were asking what was wrong. So I told them and they were honestly shocked because one of them was my math teacher. Mr. Yeakel knew why I was gone and he knew that I was getting glasses for my headaches and that they were technically my first seeing pair of glasses, so I could see and read better. He helped me a lot through my freshman year of high school.
I didn’t miss that much school when I was a sophomore though. I was practically there almost every month, week, or every other day. I only skipped 17 days in my sophomore year when in my freshman year I had to skip 31 days of school. Which to me isn’t a lot, but to Mrs. Winslow it was a lot.
When Mr. Yeakel left after my sophomore year of high school, I was mostly devastated because I barely had a male teacher who I could trust in high school besides Mr. Rittman. Some of my female teachers that I could trust helped me out since my elementary years there at Villa Grove Schools. I only had one female teacher, who stayed that I really could trust throughout the years of high school and that was Ms. Cardiff who is now Ms. Michael. In my high school years she was my high school choir teacher. I miss choir every single day now because I don’t do it anymore and now that I’m in college and changed my mind on what I wanted to be when I grew up. Instead of being something in music education I wanted to become an author.
Mrs. Winslow liked this decision more, but still hated me with a passion.
She didn’t put me into Spanish 1 until my Junior year of high school when Mr. Baumann had a serious talk with her for me not being in Spanish 1 and told her that “Dinah should be in it.” Mrs. Winslow didn’t like that I told him everything that she told me I couldn’t handle. When Mr. Baumann told me that I can actually read whatever book I want to read I was honestly shocked because Mrs. Winslow told me that my reading level was so low that I should be reading books that were my reading level and not whatever I want. He also told me that it was my choice if I wanted to change my schedule and start Spanish 1 on the exact same day. Which I was like, he already knew my decision. I had to drop an art class for Spanish 1, though. Which I was like I would rather do Spanish 1 than art, but hopefully I will get it again next year, which I was promised by her to get an art class back in my schedule, but never did.
Mrs. Winslow was pissed when I changed my schedule, and she wanted me to fail Spanish 1 all the time. Even after two weeks after I started, she told me that I should have never changed my schedule because of my grade and I told her, “I’m only getting started. Give it time.” Which she did and by the end of my junior year of high school I showed her that I passed with an A- in Spanish 1 and she was pissed. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She also couldn’t handle me not being in Spanish 2 for my senior year of high school. I was going anyway, no matter what she said.
My junior and senior year were the darkest years of high school and of my life. Mrs. Winslow thought I was going to drop out of school again when I was in my junior year of high school. And so did another high school teacher of mine, thought so as well. This guy was my third math teacher I had. I knew him before but he wasn’t my teacher in my freshman or sophomore year of high school. Either was the Special ed’s teacher(Mrs.Westray) that was with Mr. Yeakel for a short time in my freshman year. But this teacher was my third main math teacher. He even asked me if I was going to drop out. I was skipping school because basically my uncle died before I finished my sophomore year of high school and this was the first school year I was going to have without him. I also got diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I honestly don’t remember what I said to this teacher but I was still shocked when he asked me that question because I was in a serious condition and most of all Mrs. Winslow knew about it but didn’t really tell anyone else.
My parents mostly kind of let me stay home, but my dad didn’t really like that I was staying home with the missing of school and sometimes he would pressure me into going until he found out that I have fibromyalgia and that I wasn’t faking the pain. My mom barely tried to pressure me because I kept telling her I was in intense pain and I didn’t want to go until I knew what was wrong with me. This was during that time.
On the last day of junior year of high school, Mrs. Winslow also told me not to miss that many school days ever again. All I told her was “I will try my best.” Even though I knew that she knew what was wrong with me.
At that time at the very end of my junior year of high school, I wanted to change my mind about what I was going to do when I grew up. As I said before, I did want to be something in music education but when I got more and more interested in writing and other people told me that I should be a writer instead of being a music teacher I decided to take that more seriously. I knew that I had to change my mind about my career and that I need to think things through about it, so I finally told myself that you are going to become an author, not something in music education.
My senior year of high school, I generally just wanted to kill myself because I was tired of the bullying and tired of Mrs. Winslow talking to me like I was the fool there at school. I was just in a complete state of where I had no feelings, like I felt numb. It felt like I was more stuck inside a cage than just a person who is struggling inside or a person that is asking for help from anything. I deeply felt like I had nowhere to go or no one to express my feelings to. Until I went to Mrs. Clarkson and talked to her about my depression.
On that day I went to Mrs. Clarkson. I was talking to my best ex-friend Krissy about my depression, and she told me to go to Mrs. Clarkson. And so I told Mrs Winslow that I had to go to Mrs. Clarkson's office. Mrs. Winslow told me not to be gone that long. Even though I was only gone for some time. I came back before the class ended. After that I went on to my next four classes and while I was in one of them, Mr. Baumann told me that I could talk to him about anything. I was happy that I could talk to him about anything. But after my PE class however, I just told myself to go back to Mrs. Clarkson and tell her to call for help.
I officially was escorted in an ambulance to a mental health hospital where I stayed for two weeks. When I got back, the first thing that I noticed was that some people thought I was extremely dead or really sick and one of my teachers (Ms. Michael) didn’t even know where I was. I was pissed off at Mrs. Winslow but she was even more pissed off at me, because she just had this look on her face that she didn’t want me to do that. But I did. And she also told me right off the bat “I hope you're happy! You have homework to do!” I was like yeah, and. But I told her that I would handle it. At that time she told me “I hope so.”
I also kept asking the universe or God, “Why that teacher?!” when I was in high school. And on that day I got back and asked again. “Why that teacher?” I mean I hated Mrs. Winslow too but with more than just a passion. It was like I wanted her fat ass dead! Not alive anymore! I just wanted her gone and out of my life! But I barely treated her the way she treated me.
When I finished most of my homework, I forgot how to summarize the stuff for one of them. And when I realized that Mrs. Winslow found out I accidentally plagiarized, I was like oh shit, my life is over. But it wasn’t. And to be honest with you that was kind of the last time I plagiarized anything. I haven’t really done that since high school years but I have gotten help on how to use sources and how to put them into my work. It’s still sometimes hard, but I can manage.
One time when it was still my senior year of high school, she was talking to my PE teacher(Mrs. Block), and I was just walking down the hallway after I got something from my locker. I heard her and my PE teacher making a plan of pushing me back a year and I accidentally interrupted their conversation and said, “Oh, you want to try and do that. Then watch me prove you two wrong. I will be walking down that line on graduation day. Oh, and another thing, close your door when you are having a private conversation about someone next time.” Then I left and went back to my class that I left for only a few minutes and told everyone. Luckily, I didn’t get into trouble, because I thought I was going to throughout that entire week.
I also proved them wrong because I had to. When I was walking down that line on Graduation night with my best friend Portia, I had a smile on my face. Mrs. Winslow however didn’t. She had this sour puss face that told me that she was pissed off.
I didn’t really tell her how much I felt about her being my teacher. She is now dead and has been for almost two years. I was sad but also happy when I heard the news because I didn’t want my dreams to come true about going to her house and showing her all of my proof that I did something that you said a long time ago that I wasn’t probably going to graduate high school and if and if I did I couldn’t handle college, showing her my diplomas and writings that were published. I know that she knows how I feel about her now. I also have been proving her wrong ever since I was a junior in high school and I still am as of being an author in Illinois Central Review.
And to this day, I still ask the universe or God, “Why that teacher?!”
About the Author
