Autobiography

-Mariah S. EnersonI grew up in a small town of less than 100 people. There are five bars, two
churches, and two gas stations here. One has to drive approximately l3 minutes to the
nearest grocery store. This is typical for rural towns in Wisconsin. My high school
graduating class consisted of 48 students. There wasnt much variety at my school. For
sports, we had volleyball, basketball, and wrestling. As for extra-curricular activities, the
go-to was Cheerleading. The less popular were Forensics and Mock Trial. That was all.
I didnt get to take a cooking class or have any real-life class. We didnt have advanced
classes. There was no cultural diversity. We were all White.
I do not hold resentment though. Even though I wasnt a fan of my high school,
my 10th and 11th grade English teacher changed my views on life. Mrs. Miller will
forever be in my heart. She pushed me, believed in me, and didnt take no for an answer.
She made me believe that I could be a teacher. Although upon leaving high school, I had
chosen a different career path; I ultimately cant resist my love for education.
My parents raised me to choose a career in which the bills would be paid. They
told me I should be a veterinarian. That is what I went into college believing I had to do.
But, as I began working at the UW-Platteville Childrens Center on campus, I began
feeling a huge hole in me. I knew I didnt want to be a Veterinarian. I remembered I
want to be a teacher.
Miss Mariah? Caleb asked.
Yes? I smiled.
I drew a picture of you, he looked wide-eyed at me, I tried doing your hair, but
it doesnt look right. I hope thats okay. Its for you so you can put it in your bedroom. I
have pictures in my bedroom. We can both have pictures on our walls now.
It was a box-like figure, with a heart for lips, and long rectangular hair. It was
perfect. It was Miss Mariah. It was me. Caleb is five. He is rambunctious and
incredibly smart for his age. He can be frustrating, but in the best ways.
Two months later, as I look at the picture hanging on my wall, it gives me hope. I
want to be a teacher, maybe because the children are talented and artsy, or maybe because
they have so much potential. I want to be a teacher most of all because I want to make a
difference in the life of a child.
The attributes that make a great teacher include, but are not limited to, a strong
rapport with students, high expectations, honesty, respect, organization, willingness to
reflect on oneself, and a passion for teaching, etc. The list goes on and on. I aspire to
have all of these qualities as a teacher, and more. Mrs. Miller has taught me what it
means to be a great teacher. She kept a strong rapport with her students, she had high
expectations for all of her students and she had an unbelievable passion for teaching.
These are among the top qualities I believe a teacher should possess.
Mariah, I want to talk to you after class, Mrs. Miller firmly stated.
I thought I was in trouble. Well, actually, I knew I was in trouble. She is going to
kill me because I didnt do my homework, I thought.

Whats this? she whispered intently as she pointed to the blank spaces beneath
the questions. You are so much better than this. Whats going on?
I just didnt get it. I couldnt look her in the eyes. She would know I was lying.
I will not tolerate laziness. I know you and I know you have a lot going on at
home, but you just have to push through. Everyone is dealing with something. You arent
the only one. They all figure it out and move on, She squinted at me to ensure I
understood what she was saying.
Good, she said. Now you can come during your break period and get this
done. Heres your pass. She smiled.
I walked away embarrassed.
Now, I am thankful. I didnt know it then, but I was being taught a variety of life
lessons. She was the only teacher that cared enough to be concerned about my late
assignment. She kept a connection with all of her students. She knew their
consistencies; she knew their inconsistencies. She knew if someone was just having an
off day. She kept track of the students who regularly ditched class or didnt turn in
homework. Mrs. Miller never let anyone off-the-hook. She always had high expectations
for all of her students.
I dont just want to be a teacher who just teaches a subject. I want to be a teacher
who can teach life lessons and keep rapport with my students. In order to teach
effectively, I need to have a relationship with my students. I know this because Mrs.
Miller was an effective teacher. If Im being honest, that wasnt the only assignment I
didnt do. She had to give me a talking-to twice about late assignments. Her high
expectations and rapport for me helped me be a better student.
Not only was Mrs. Miller my English teacher, she was my Forensics coach. I
performed poetry. One time, she submitted one of my video-recorded performances to a
Wisconsin Speaks competition our school was invited to. I remember the recorded
performance was the first time I had done original poetry. I couldnt understand why she
thought I had potential. I ended up getting accepted into the competition, but came in
4th.
An excerpt from an original piece:
He would do anything to mend mommas mind, but he knows he cant fix
her this time.
Some day momma will fall, and daddy wont be able to help her at all.
The girl stares at the mirror one last time.
She pulls the trigger and goes through time
Im just a girl hiding behind a mask, wishing things were different.
But Im stuck in this life all the same.
The past is the past.

I want Mrs. Millers passion for teaching to be expressed, and this is my most
vivid memory of that. My mom was mentally ill and my parents got a divorce while I
was in high school. I wrote poems such as this to relieve stress. Mrs. Miller called it
Saving the Fishies. She would always say, You know, humans breathe water and fish
breathe air. I never got that, but I appreciated it.
You have to let it all out, She shouted.
I cant, I give up. I dropped my poem on the table.
She grabbed it and started reading outloud. She was articulate. She made my
poem sound so much better than it was. It felt raw and real. It flowed effortlessly. I
wanted that. I wanted to be able to express how I felt like that.
Im just a girl hiding behind a mask, she whispered with eyes glazed over with
tears. The past is the past, She said shrugging her shoulders and blinking her eyes
back to life.
I cant do it like you do it. I suck. I believed.
If you cant believe in yourself, you will not do well. Try it again, She pressed.
You aint saving the fishies this way. She giggled.
I grinned, prepared to try again.
It was epic in my eyes back then. She was so passionate about life. She loved
Shakespeare, old English stories, and black and white movies. She made me want to be
passionate about Macbeth (It was never my favorite). Sometimes she would go off on a
tangent after remembering something, and would talk endlessly of all the incredible
books or stories we could read as a class. I aspire to have a passion like hers.
I am proud of my 4th place at that competition. I stood with passion and gave it
the best I had.
Low self-esteem and the inability to see ones self through anothers eyes can
diminish any self-confidence one possesses. Through my high school years, I learned to
not only be a better student, but a stronger individual. If it werent for me realizing my
potential, I wouldnt have even went to college. Sometimes I still think about vicariously
living through these experiences. Thanks to Mrs. Millers high-expectations, passion for
teaching, and the time she took to make a connection with me, I can say I am a better
citizen. It only takes one role model in your life, to change your views of the world. I
know I have the tools to be a good teacher.