Dear Mrs. Adams,

The first quality that comes to my mind when I think of you is courageous. As I think back to that geometry classroom at Mounds View High School, I remember more than might be expected. I remember how you challenged us to do better. I remember your high expectations and how clearly you stated them. I remember the drills and the practice. I remember standing nervously at the board, trying to figure out the solution to some odd sounding problem. You waited patiently; you never seemed to lose your cool with us. I was never good at geometry but you never made me feel stupid because I struggled. But while I remember all these things, when I think of you, these are not the first things that come to mind.

I remember asking you, as you were handing back our homework notebooks, where mine was. You averted your gaze, evaded the question, and promised it would be back soon. I was in chemistry class when the note arrived from the substance abuse counselor, Kirsten Dawson. Worse than getting the note was struggling through the chemistry quiz while my mind flew around the myriad of possibilities. No, I didn’t wonder why she wanted to see me; I wondered how she found out.

I stopped wondering how she found out the minute I walked in her door. There, on her desk, was my geometry notebook. My mind scrambled until I recalled a note I had started writing in your class that I forgot to give to my friend. That note was as close to a confession as was needed. My secret life was about to end.

All of my friends abandoned me. I was angry and alone. I took that anger out on you. I refused to even speak to you for the rest of the year. You stood firm. You promised that one day I would understand what you had done. I was relentless, so sure I would never be grateful that you “snitched” on me. And I was wrong.

Your report to the substance abuse counselor sent my parents in a tizzy too. They no longer trusted me and didn’t know what to do with me. Counseling led to a hospitalization, the hospitalization led to treatment and treatment, I know now, led to life. I have been drug free since December 1, 1989, 18 years that I may not have had if you had not been the courageous teacher that you were.

I suppose I could be like some and, when questioned about my favorite teacher, bring to mind the kindergarten teacher who taught me to read, or the 7th grade English teacher who encouraged me to write but if you had not stepped in and put a stop to my drug use I doubt I would be reading and writing today. Of the 11 of us who hung out together, there are only 4 of us still alive. When I think of my favorite teacher I immediately think of you. You did more than teach me geometry; you saved my life.

I could never thank you enough for showing the courage you did, for braving the aftermath of your decision, and for giving me the opportunity to start again. My life is not just better because of you; my life is because of you.

Thank you,



Tia (Singer) Willin