College Writing Lab, Fall 2020

Profiles: Remembering The Teachers Who Inspired Us

This series of mini-profiles focuses on high school and middle school educators who made a lasting impression and awakened new possibilities of self-discovery. All were written by students in Professor Wright’s and Professor Dearing’s sections of the College Writing Lab, which meets once a week during the fall semester.

Saved From Drowning

The worst part of leaving high school was that my favorite teacher, Pat, wouldn’t be there to help me during college. Patrick Cochrane was my music teacher and also my counselor. He was tall and wore glasses and Converse sneakers most of the time. He helped me through the toughest times of my life and reminded me that it was okay to not be okay. Because of him I was able to get through high school and grow as a person.

My favorite thing about Pat is how he would listen to me vent about the same situations, and he wouldn’t get annoyed. He has a lot of patience, which is something he’s taught me to have. Pat made me step out of my comfort zone and sing during talent shows; I wouldn’t have done it if he and others in the music department didn’t motivate me to. Lastly,  Pat never judged me about anything I told him. I trusted him more as my therapy sessions went on.

I remember once, when a friend of mine passed away, I was bawling my eyes out last period of school. I went to Pat’s office and told him, “I never got to say goodbye; I feel so guilty.” Pat told me, “He knows how good of a friend you were to him.” That simple statement calmed me down and I stopped beating myself up for the way my friend died.

Patrick was a great mentor and I’m thankful for his wise words and impact on my life. Each time I had therapy I felt like I was being saved from drowning and was able to breathe again. Pat always reassured me of how life will be ok.

-Jasmin DeLeon, ’24

That Week Has Come and Gone

Multiple teachers come to mind when I think about my past, but Mrs. Umipig, my former theater teacher, is different. I remember countless afternoons with her and my peers in our haven, talking about the serious to the most random things. Her room was a mini-auditorium with a stage, a black piano, and three rows of seats, and was filled with so many colorful posters, everywhere, from top to bottom and from left to right. The posters covered the four walls with bright colors and inspirational quotes. My favorite is by Harriet Tubman, “If you hear the dogs, keep going. If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. If there’s shouting after you, keep going. Don’t ever stop. Keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.”

The last day in her room she was contemplating whether she should travel to California for an event, because at the time we had just heard about the possibility of schools closing because of COVID-19. I remember sitting at the white folding table on the left side of the room, which was covered with magazines. I looked through them to answer the question, “What does Think Wide Open mean to you?” Instead of writing an essay, Mrs. Umipig guided me to think outside of the box, advising me, “The truth Abby is that I think that you need to get more personal about this. They said you can submit videos, songs, visual art, you want this to be UNIQUE.” I added a cut-out picture of myself in the middle of a picture of the Bible cut in half, to represent how being a Christian has become a big part of my life. As I finished the project, Mrs. Umipig said, “Abbyyy, I don’t know what to do… I heard that places are getting shut down and I don’t want to get stuck or sick on this trip.”

We all kind of chuckled and someone snickered, “Don’t hug me when you come back!” Mrs. Umipig laughed, and while gluing pictures of myself and the Bible on the poster I said, “If you think it isn’t a good idea to go, cancel your flight. But if you do go, be safe.” I didn’t realize that would be my last time seeing her; she helped me finish my project and then we all thought we would be seeing each other the next week. But that week has come and gone.

-Abigail Frederick, ’24

His Character Has Become Part of Me

Mr. Russeao always wanted us to have a goal in mind, and always gave us a lesson about life. I remember the day he came to my middle school and we found out that he was going to be our history teacher. He is about 6’6” tall and a very strong person. He has dreadlocks, and always a serious face, and is always checking his surroundings. At first, he seemed like the kind of person that would just stay to himself, that he didn’t want people bothering him, but he actually was very friendly once you got to know him. He would smile back at you, and listen closely to what you wanted to say, so that he could respond with a very honest answer. I remember sports came up once, and he expressed how we have to take care of our bodies, and always have a plan B if becoming a professional player doesn’t work out. He used to play football in college, before he got hurt. We thought he was this big strong guy who would feel bothered by people, but he actually was very welcoming as we got to know him.

I remember that my grades were hitting rock-bottom back in the eighth grade, and at a parent teacher conference he talked to me directly. He said, “Do you think you will be able to play baseball in high school or college if your grades turn out to be like this? Like, why are we having a conference if it looks like you’re about to fail? You won’t be seeing any field if you’re just going to slack and not focus in class.”

My grades were all in the 60s by then, the worst I’d ever done, because I was trying to be class clown, have a fun time, and I would be distracted easily. Talking with him that day made me realize, as much as I was pissed off for the way he was shoving the truth in my face, that he was only looking out for me because he definitely cared about his students. He wanted the best for us and if we needed a wake-up-to-reality call, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Now to be honest, I don’t recall how upset I was that day or if I even cried, but after that day I became more focused in class and thought about my future more than ever. I would think, how am I helping myself become the person that I want to become later on? Will I regret not taking school more seriously? His character has become a part of me, in the sense of taking my future and goals seriously. I need to be ready for the real world. I haven’t seen him since my sophomore year I believe, or freshman, but I would love to see him one more time and hear about other life advice we never got to talk about.

-Emmanuel Perez, ’24

Waiting to Greet Us

Mr. Cascio has a soft, round welcoming face, one that you’d recognize from across the school building. He has brown hair and round glasses, and would alternate between wearing a sweater vest and a long-sleeved button down. I don’t think i’ve ever met anyone that didn’t like that class or him; he would always tell us we were his favorite class, even though he would  shyly say, “Now I know I’m not supposed to have favorites…”

The class was an in-depth study of the director Alfred Hitchock and his work. Mr. Cascio was always early, already at his desk with his laptop ready, and waiting to greet us. He was so enthusiastic that the tests and assignments didn’t even feel like work. Once he noticed I didn’t do so well on one of my tests, which was on the movie Rebecca, and after class he talked to me and made sure everything was okay. Coincidentally, that was around the time my boyfriend and I were breaking up. I didn’t even have to tell him anything personal for him to know that my emotions were getting in the way of my work. He told me to not worry about the test, and that my grades were fine. Mr. Cascio made sure there were enough grades in the class so that if a student did poorly on one it wouldn’t affect their overall grade. That was just the type of teacher he was, he cared about his students, he noticed if anyone was not doing okay, whether it was with school or outside things, and he would check on them. Now, I’m taking a Cinema Studies course, remembering the love I had for my Hitchcock class and with the hope of maybe pursuing a career or at least a hobby in that field. I think the class made me appreciate hard work and understanding when it comes to creating a film, and as an avid movie and show watcher I think I gained valuable knowledge and appreciation for it.

- Ava Leone, ’24

The Opportunities We Deserve

Mr. Yuan was my eighth grade English teacher, and my debate coach for seventh and eighth grade. He pushed me, along with everyone else on my team and in my class, to be the best we could be, as writers, readers, public speakers, and people. I remember in one tournament where we were supposed to debate the cons and pros of standardized testing we weren’t sure if our speeches and points were enough to win. We were self-conscious of our rebuttals and our evidence, but I remember that to reassure us he said, “When debating you are not trying to convince anyone that you’re right. You have to show the judge that the others are wrong.” I’ve always held that with me; every debate or argument I’m in, I always get caught in telling the person their wrong, but I have to realize that I will never change their mind if I go about it that way. I have to show that person how they are wrong. In debate instead of saying points and bringing in evidence to convince the opponent to agree with your side, we have to show how in comparison to their point, your point is more either plausible, ethically more moral or just true depending on what is being argued.

He also was the only teacher I have ever had who I was able to trust with anything. He would interrupt his classes to give us “life lessons,” whether it was about how to treat others or how to manage our time. We have talked once since I graduated from my middle school for a charity fundraiser for BLM. Not only was he contributing and donating to BLM fundraisers but also for fundraisers for BIPOC (Black and Indigenous People of color). He contacted me to let me know that his donations would be made if his students submitted a poster to raise awareness of the movement; with each submission he would donate $100. He is very wise with his own money, and travels frequently. He was educated in many cultures and was fluent in many languages including Mandarin (his mother tongue), Japanese, and English. Along with traveling, he has also taught in other countries, including as an English teacher in Japan, living there for about 4+ years. He is a very accomplished teacher and to this day my favorite one. He taught me how to value other’s space and comfortability. He was the first teacher I had that told his class how much he cared for them, but along with telling us, he showed us. He spent many unpaid hours after school tutoring and coaching us. He showed us the opportunities we deserve as children of color. To this day, I am very grateful to him.

-Sonnel Hill-Basora, ’24

A Balance in My Moral Center

Ms. Allen was my eighth grade history teacher. She was a good 5’5” and had really big eyeglasses. She always wore her own style—an uncommon mix of casual clothing with a professional look, and made sure she came to work feeling comfortable regardless of what people told her. She was very inspirational and had so much faith in her students. She always pushed us to go beyond what we thought we could go, in academics or just life in general, and she had to be one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.

Ms. Allen was loved greatly by the school because her personality was so real. She was like my mom, my sister, and teacher all in one. She is such a strong, black woman in truth, and nothing and no one fazes her. Our relationship grew so much in just one short year of middle school—so much so that at graduation, while everyone’s names were getting called to receive their diplomas, Ms. Allen did something I have never gotten from any other teacher, ever. As my name was being called, before I could even get up, Ms. Allen got to the stage and said a couple words of love, encouragement, and hopeful wishes for me. She told everyone how happy she was to teach a student like me and she acknowledged how smart and caring I was to those around me. In the middle of her freehand speech she cried, and it was the most heartwarming feeling ever. To this day I think about what Ms. Allen said to me and it never fails to encourage me to continue opening my heart to people. There are times where I realize that I want to be selfish and stay to myself, but this memory of the first person to really acknowledge me helps me keep a balance in my moral center. It helped me make sure that I was a person who was there for people. Throughout high school, I made plenty of new friends who felt they could put their trust in me and I really honor that. Ms. Allen gave me the gift of self-recognition and to me that is the most priceless gift anyone can receive.

-Eury Acevedo, ’24

What Would Mauricio Do?

Mauricio Gonzalez teaches to change the world; he teaches to uplift the next generation of scientists and instill strong morals; and he’s unlike any teacher I’ve ever had. I often said that being part of his class was the closest thing I could get to learning from Gandalf the Grey; with his long pointed beard and wise demeanor, when Maurico enters a room, the room feels it. My high school’s faculty hated him because of his constant reminders to them to not slack on their duties of educating. While some teachers let their students glide through, he pushed his harder than any other; usually, though, it was his students that accomplished the most. A raging libertarian, and snowflake social-democrat, as a Columbian immigrant he loved nothing more than the freedoms this country offered.

Upon meeting him in my second year, we struck up a conversation over politics (I was jokingly wearing a Teddy Roosevelt shirt, which he disapproved of) and I asked him whom he had voted for the year prior. “Bernie.” he replied quite bluntly, despite the senator not even being on the ballot. I asked him why he would, arguably, throw away his vote on someone not running. “Never bow down to what they want you to do.” he told me. Behind him images he’d printed, of people like Edward Snowden, Henry David Thoreau, and Mohammed Ali, (to name just a few of the “American Heroes” he displayed proudly on his office wall) seemed to shine a bit brighter. “You are the master of yourself.” I love his homemade, knitted cap, the one he wears every day of the colder months, and I love his dedication to making the world a better place. I often ask myself in challenging times, “What would Mauricio do?” and usually his instincts steer me in the right direction.

Tyler Scott-Simpson, ’24

 

Sasha and Her Baby

My drama teacher Sasha used to talk a lot about her newborn baby. One story I remember was that the baby boy would be sleepy and she would put him to bed and he would fall asleep—but when she left his room, he would wake up and start making noises. She would go back into the room and put him back down to bed, and he would go to sleep until, again, she left the room and he woke up making noise. The more and more Sasha talked to us about her baby boy, the more the whole class became comfortable with her, as if we were her own children; she wasn’t afraid to spill details about her personal life to us, and so students really enjoyed talking and laughing with her.

-Jordan Driver, ’24

Mama G.

Ms. Gravina—she is the sweetest thing in the world. I called her “Mama G.” She was shorter than me so she had to go on her tiptoes when we did our secret handshakes to greet one another right before class. She enlightened me with lectures relating our lives to some amazing authors’ pieces. She knew I didn’t like to read if it was forced upon us, and it was forced upon us in my high school. I really despised it. I didn’t like to be forced to do something, and in my school it was common, that things were forced. If we didn’t read, we were punished. They isolated the kids who didn’t read, and they weren’t allowed to engage in the conversation for that day. I remember missing one day, and then I never missed an assignment again. Ms. Gravinas’ class was the only one I looked forward to everyday. I made sure that I engaged in seminars to talk, to bring the conversation outside the classroom and into the real world.

-Gianna Wainwright Milfort, ’24

 

Talk to Me

My eighth grade math teacher, Ms.Desroches, was about 5’2”, with thick curly hair. She was an excellent teacher. She pushed me to be a better me inside the classroom and outside of the classroom. Not only was she my teacher but she was my mentor, like a friend, an older sister or rather like an aunt.She was easy to talk to because she was very understanding and also could relate to me in different ways. She knew how to calm me down and make me feel better if i was upset. I appreciated her because of the simple fact that she was there for me, beyond just being my teacher. She had two other mentees, who were my friends. So, outside of school we went out and did fun things—I remember one time she took us out for ice cream in Manhattan, and after we rode Citi Bikes. It was about 80 degrees and we went to a Black-owned ice cream shop called Mikey Likes It Ice Cream. I’m not sure what flavor I had, but I remember the ice cream melting on top of the waffle. I really enjoyed that day, but there were also other times i enjoyed, small moments like eating lunch in her classroom or staying after school to do work and talk. One thing about her was she noticed everything. If I wasn’t okay she would know and ask me, “Hey, I noticed…. What’s wrong, talk to me.” Just by her saying that, my whole mood would switch from happy to sad, annoyed, overwhelmed—etc. I don’t recall any student disliking Ms. D. She was full of energy and she genuinely cared for the students. She made me enjoy math at the time, and coming to school. Her presence in my life made a positive impact especially due to the fact that after that year I was entering high school.

-Kasia Morrison, ’24

I Still Remember That Hug

Mr. Blain is a tall Haitian man with a very distinct accent. He is always so kind and charismatic, so you never felt uneasy talking to him. He was my teacher for four years and was the head of the T.A.S.K. program at my high school. In fact he was the man who started the program, which was meant to help kids with certain academic issues, to help them get their work in on time. outI was put in this program starting in middle school and it carried over to my high school as well. In all honesty, I hated the idea of being in a program like this; it affected my self-esteem a little, but over time I just got used to it.

My most prominent memory of all with him was when I was in the hospital from an accident and he came to visit me; my whole demeanor just lit up when he arrived. He was more than just a teacher to me, he was a mentor and a father figure. When I came back from the hospital and went back to school again, it had been several weeks since the accident and my pelvis wasn’t fully healed, and I had another major surgery to correct my torn urethra. But even so, my doctors determined that I was well enough to return to school for the time being. I didn’t start normal classes right away, so I went directly to Mr. Blain’s room and surprised everyone there. Mr. Blain was especially glad that I was there, we hugged and I still remember that hug. It was nice and quick but it still made me feel better about my current situation.

-Louis Cantalupi, ’24

My Mental State Mattered

My eleventh grade English teacher Mr. Weida was a small and skinny man that was never seen without a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He wore polo shirts and slacks every day, but he somehow managed to look different every single morning. He was the kind of person who walked with a slight hunch, not enough to be a hunchback but enough to see the curve in this spine. His grey hair and balding toward the middle made him an easy target to ignorant teenagers but managed to never be made fun of.

Mr. Weida was the teacher you begged to get for the year. He told a lot of corny jokes about his own white male privilege and he spoke satire more fluently than he spoke sarcasm, yet no one was ever offended. Whenever he would give us our work back, it would smell like cigarettes and the inside of a Dunkin’ Donuts. He has a slight New Jersey accent, and an almost unnoticeable stutter. I remember a time that I’d been so overwhelmed with school and life in general that I missed his class to find a place to cry. Later on that day, I felt so terrible that I missed his class, and I went to apologize. When I found him in his classroom, before I could even get the words out, I burst into tears. Now of course he couldn’t hug me but as I sat on the floor of his classroom covered in my own tears, he sat on top of a desk beside me and simply said, “Tell me about it.” We spoke for about an hour regarding my problems and fears for the year, and not once did he belittle me or make me feel as though I was being overdramatic. He told me that he wasn’t upset with me, in fact he was happy that I decided to skip his class—Mr. Weida was the first teacher to ever tell me that my mental state mattered more than getting a grade. Sure, he scolded me on not making this a habit, but instead of making it seem like I had just skipped he took the time to understand why and how I was feeling. For the rest of the school year, Weida and I would do “hallway check-ins.” He would never attempt to ask me in front of the entire class, but when we saw each other in between two periods he would ask me if I’d cried that day and If I had said yes, he would ask me if I wanted to hear a joke. Looking back, hearing a joke every once and a while really changed the tone of my day. His patience and humor got me through such a difficult year.

-Alannah Thomas Bruno, ’24

Farther Than I Ever Thought Possible

Brian DeNeeve was my high school music teacher for my junior year and half of my senior year. He is five foot-seven, and has a pale mane of short brown hair. He has colorful tattoos on both arms, lots of greens and blues, slight stubble on his face, and blue eyes. He always wore a flannel and skinny jeans, paired with black slip-on Vans. He is a very laid-back kind of guy. His humor is sometimes dark and very self-deprecating; he’d say things like “I’m just an old man that sucks at music, and one day I’m going to die.” DeNeeve would laugh, and I’d always stare at him with a puzzled look on my face. He was very humble, and never bragged about anything other than his beloved guitar collection, which is worth enough for a new car. He’d grimace when students would show him anything they enjoyed listening to that wasn’t metal. I can’t even recall just how many times I heard him say, “Take this garbage off of my computer!” Some would describe him as bitter and grumpy about being a school teacher, seeing as he’d find himself drinking two Red Bulls a day to keep him awake. He’d say things like, “Oh boy, here comes the next class,” with a forced smile, but deep down even if he rarely showed it, he enjoyed teaching. He is a musical genius, he toured with his post-hardcore metal band From Autumn to Ashes for years. After that, he played guitar for The Wanted, and various other famous artists before he became my music teacher. With a stellar resume like his, one can’t help but wonder why he became a high school music teacher for a school deep in the Bronx, where not many people actually care about music theory. The reason I was given was, “I was bored, and your school is close to the 2 train, which is right by my house.”

I lucked out, because he taught me how to further my guitar playing skills and have the right mindset to be a successful musician. He showed me the importance of music theory and proper technique. I was also exposed to the idea that “sick chops,” really good guitar playing skills, are not the only component to being successful. He showed me that I have to always be my authentic self. Being a reliable, honest, and caring person is more important than guitar skill. He always said, “You could be the most boring guitarist in the world, but if you show love and appreciation for everything that goes into making music, you can go anywhere.” This lesson has taken me farther than I ever thought possible, and I’m eternally grateful for his role in my life as a high school student struggling to figure out what I want my future to look like. I know my place now, it’s deep in the music scene doing what I love. That’s all thanks to Mr.DeNeeve.

-Angel Gonzalez, ’24

Always So Fierce

Ms. McKetney was infamous in my high school. She was a short, strong Black woman with curly hair and a great sense of fashion, usually rocking a black bomber jacket. I had her during my sophomore, junior, and senior years, for A.P. World and U.S. History, and U.S. Government and Economics. She was always very strict in the classroom. If we didn’t do our work, we wouldn’t be able to make it up. If you skipped her class, she would count that attendance as a test grade. There was one moment when a student wrote a two-page essay instead of a four-page essay and she ripped it up in front of the whole class. She would make us go on ruthless debates on controversial topics like economic policies, boys versus girls. Everyone would be yelling at each other!

I’m making it seem like she was a crazy, irrational teacher, but she is very laid back when she isn’t in teaching mode. Usually she would have conversations with us about everyday things like girls with their hair and how annoying it is to handle. She also spoke about clothes and how her sister stole one of her shirts and they got into a fight. She would also talk about her own experiences in school, like how she was the “smart but crazy” girl since she was always so fierce, fighting back whenever someone tried to challenge her. She was also extremely competitive, always making sure she was all the way in the top of her classes. The crazy thing is that she doesn’t like being in pictures so she’s not in the school yearbook. She will always remain as a memory in my mind, unless I go back to the school—and I definitely will. How she goes about teaching really helped me learn quicker and made me respect her way of teaching a lot, even if doing all of the work that she assigned was a real pain at the time. She would give us a four-page essay every weekend; she wanted all of us to be active and attentive to everything. That inspired me and helped me to do things under pressure quickly and efficiently, and I very much appreciate all that she has done.

-Daniel Jimenez, ’24

Ask With Confidence

My high school Earth Science, English and AP English teacher was Mr Ahearn. He’s changed a lot through the years, so I’ll describe what he looks like now. He’s tall and has black, boxy glasses with rounded corners. His hair is always messy and he drinks Earl Grey tea every day, from the same metallic blue thermal cup. He wears a tucked-in button down shirt with a solid color tie, and a pair of slacks and running sneakers. He’s right-handed and has really bad handwriting that’s very hard to read.

His voice is calming and reassuring, especially when you’re panicking about missing or late work and failing grades. At the beginning of this year, he let us make up assignments for the first marking period of school to improve our grades. I, like most people, took advantage of that offer—except I had lost some of the assignments, and he’d said a week before the due date that we couldn’t get any of the assignments from him the day before they were due—which was the day I was rushing to get all my work finished for my classes. I still went into his room to ask for three assignments I’d missed; I had prepared myself for a “no,” since he had already said that the day before was the last day to gather any missing assignments, but I asked anyway. He had seen me crying 30 minutes before, as I was trying to make up the work I had missed from all of my other classes. When I asked, I was still super stressed and my eyes were puffy from all the crying I was doing—anyone could hear how stressed I was just in the shaky tone of my voice. He responded with, “Calm down. Ask me again with confidence. Don’t whine. Ask like an adult.” I responded with I’m not whining!” but I was definitely whining when I said that. I asked again and he said okay bring them to me tomorrow morning and that all I had to do was ask correctly, as he wanted us to pass and succeed. This meant a lot to me since I was so overly stressed. Being able to get an extension on my work lifted a weight off of my shoulders. If I hadn’t had Mr Ahearn as a teacher, I most definitely would have gotten left back or failed a lot of my classes. He always told us to “seize the day” and every time I’m struggling to get through a day, I tell myself that and feel reassured.

-Cayla Mercado, ’24

More Positivity in Life Than We May Know

In high school I had a History teacher named Mr. Bennett, a short dark-skinned teacher with a big belly. Mr. Bennett was always in a happy and energetic mood. “Welcome, welcome, welcome!” he repeated to every student as they entered his classroom. He loved to see his students get good grades and pass his classes, and always made sure that everyone learned something new everyday. His 45-minute history class felt like seconds, and everyone enjoyed participating whenever we spoke about sports, our dream careers, and our thoughts on society. On tough and stressful days, he would try to make class as fun and easy as he could by cracking corny jokes in random moments . Whenever he felt like a student may have been doubting themselves, he would speak to them, and tell them, “It is never too late to pursue your dreams. Never let anyone tell you that you can’t do it either. You’re amazing in your own way so never give up and stay strong.”

There wasn’t a day where Mr. Bennett was in a bad mood. Apart from being a great teacher, Mr. Bennett loved to support his students as well. He would offer all the help he could to all students and attended their after-school activities to keep them motivated and dedicated to what they were doing. For example, some students, like myself, were high school athletes, others were cheerleaders, others were in the robotics team; Mr. Bennett supported us all. Mr. Bennett has taught me through his amazing characteristics that there is more positivity in life than we may know. We just have to stay positive and give the same energy that we will like to receive in return.

-Frejoel Munoz, ’24