That. That’s the reason why everything went downhill for me. Mrs. Lisker ruined my life

WE hold all the power in the room,” I warned a new teacher at the beginning of this year. Then, realizing it sounded megalomaniacal, I rushed to explain. “That’s a bad thing!”

It’s a humbling thing, standing in front of a room and knowing that one day, one of the girls in front of you might credit you for ruining her life.

I mean, sure, there’s the flip side. Lots of girls will look back fondly on some of their teachers. Sometimes they’ll even talk about how one teacher made a real, tangible positive impact on their lives. But that’s most likely going to be a teacher who spent all afternoon with them in their youngest years, or a high school teacher they really connected with.

No one is looking back at the 45 minutes a day they spent learning social studies in middle school and saying, “Wow. Mrs. Lisker* (name changed to protect the certainly guilty) transformed my entire life! That day we spent mock-guillotining unsuspecting students? Formative.”

So I’ve come to terms with the fact that though I do give those girls a good time (and, I think, a nice appreciation for history!), my impact isn’t going to be long-term. And I pray that if it is, it isn’t negative. I don’t want some flippant comment I made once, on a day when I didn’t notice how it landed, to be the one a woman points to during a therapy session. That. That’s the reason why everything went downhill for me. Mrs. Lisker ruined my life.