(To understand this response, you have to know that Dr. Brown was my ninth grade Honors Lit. teacher. Let’s just say he was not my favorite.)
Dear Dr. Brown,
You gave us books. I read them. You lectured for hours. I took notes on your opinions. Essay time? That’s when regurgitation was a good thing. Yes, I realized your vanity was to my benefit.
After escaping from your class we would occasionally meet. Once you finally remembered which “Ms. Prestwich” I was, you backhandedly told me I was not good enough. Thanks so much.
Despite our apparent distaste for each other, I did learn one thing from you. Teachers love to hear exactly what they have said. Well, at least it got me through high school. Now, as I finish my Honors Writing class I can tell you a great thing. You were wrong. In this class I have had the chance to come up with my own topic, do my own research, write my own opinion, and use my own voice. I am good enough on my own.
What students need to know most is that writing is not about telling people what they know they want to hear. It’s about telling them what they never knew they wanted to hear. Maybe you should think about teaching that.
Your sincere student.
Basically, nobody could possibly understand how good writing this down felt. I've actually considered sending it to Wylie Brown himself. I don't know though, it might ruin the lives of my sisters, his future students.