In previous years, I hated school; I had no passion for anything other than gossiping and facebook. My grades in middle school were mediocre at best and I didn’t care, or notice, at all. That all changed in high school.
My first day of ninth grade is exciting. The fact that summer is over does not even phase me. I am in high school. My first day in ninth grade is so new. Everything is new. I already love high school and I just started. I feel so old. The world is mine for the taking and I am going to take full advantage of it. The bell to second period rings and I meander my way through the hall, excited to meet “A. Mutter.” I go in, sit down and wait for the teacher to come in. As I’m settling in and talking to all my friends about my summer, we are all wondering where our teacher is. A. Mutter was a new teacher so we all are trying to guess: male or female? Right as the “tardy bell” rings, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen rushes into the room, in true Mr. Mutter fashion (something I soon learned. Punctuality was not his thing.) Coffee, sloshing, in hand, distressed leather “satchel” hanging from his broad shoulder, tight dress pants, a white dress shirt, unbuttoned, and a blue blazer. I didn’t know it at the time but he is a total hipster. As my eyes make their way up, I see the most beautiful head of hair I have ever seen. Thick, long and the kind that stays which ever you push it. I can not believe that he is my teacher. He looks like he belongs in a J. Crew catalogue or in a GQ photoshoot. There is no way a creature that beautiful is a teacher, much less mine. He smiles, sets his things down and introduces himself. “Hello, class. I’m Mr. Mutter, I’m new and I’m going to be your English 9 College Prep teacher.” As he reviews the syllabus, I become intimidated, yet intrigued. As the weeks go by, I realize how awesome of a teacher he is, something many students do not agree with me on. I saw his fire for teaching, no matter how unconvential, and it set a fire in me.
Our first writing assignment is on a list of any controversial topic we want to write on. Before ninth grade, I never had a passion for writing, but I thought I was good at it . The topic I choose to write on is gay marriage. I write my paper and turn it in with full confidence that I will get an A. When we get our papers back, I smile, turn it over and can’t believe my eyes. I made a D. Yes, a D. Somewhere between a 60 and a 69. Perplexed, I ask Mr. Mutter about it and he gives me no specific answer. He just gives me the chance to rewrite it. I take my horrible paper home and rewrite it. It takes me hours, but I do it. I turn it back into him, thankful that he gave me another chance, and I’m positive that I will receive at least a B. A couple weeks later, he gives me my paper back with the grade of an 80. I’m surprised I got such a low B, but happy nonetheless. Anything is better than a D. Still, I’m confused on why my paper did not get an A! I never loved writing before, but I thought I was good at it until this year! The next couple papers we write, I get a C and a B. By this time, I’m thinking “What the hell am I doing wrong here? I can’t make an A on a single paper? Oh my god, how did SHE get an A? Am I not smarter than her…?” Finally, me and Mr. Mutter have a conference about my writing and he explains to me what I’m doing wrong. My brain is stuck in middle school writing, and he trys to help me pull it into high school thinking. See, he has the style of writing so rare that you only come across every blue moon. He has a beautiful, truly beautiful, style of writing and can make anything interesting to read. Everything flows, there’s more than just letters to make words, they mean something and at that very moment, at his desk, I realize that I want to write. It has become a passion of mine and hopefully a passion that I will get to pursue. So, I want to take the time to personally thank Andrew Mutter for drawing out a passion for writing in me that I never knew was there.
Thank you for giving me my past time, my escape, and one of the things I now hold so dear to my heart. Most importantly, thank you for being the awesome person, and teacher, you are and for helping a lost, 14 year old girl find her place in the world.
To the people who read this, thank you. It was written with no idea of an audience, but I thought I would share.