(Just a warning before you read on; It's looong.)
Remember that one person that changed your life? That one person that opened your eyes and made you see something that was right in front of you your entire life but you never actually saw it, that one person that taught you how to enjoy something that you had no love for from the beginning of time? I did, and that person was Mrs. Martin. She did something, to this day I’m not sure what that something is but it turned my life around and I somehow, miraculously actually enjoyed and appreciated her class, her subject. English had become the highlight of my day when I would wake up in the morning and get ready to go to school.
Mathematics is an acquired taste. You either love it and excel at it, or you hate it and fail miserably at it. Coming home from school, I would go to my room, open my backpack, take out my math book and notebook and start the homework assigned for that day. When the teacher would tell us what our homework would be, inside my head I would yell, “Ah c’mon! That’s it?! Sigh…I wish she had assigned just a little bit more. I’ll be done with all this in thirty minutes, and then I have to start my English homework. Grr…” Calculator in my hand (when it was allowed) I would get to work and have the best time doing homework. Yes, I know, I sound like the biggest loser ever for wishing my teacher had assigned more math homework and actually enjoying doing the work, but that’s who I used to be, before then end of 10th grade.
It was some time towards the end of my sophomore year when we were all sitting in Mrs. Martin’s English class in the morning, and at the same time, our home room class. We had finished the work that she had assigned us to do and everyone was doing something different to kill time until the bell rang and class ended. Some were playing with their iPods, some were doing homework for their other classes, some of us were turned around in our chairs talking to our friends and the rest of the students were all talking to Mrs. Martin, pestering her with annoying, unimportant questions. Suzie was throwing question after question in Mrs. Martin’s face, and her being the cool, amazingly calm teacher/person that she is, answered every single question in stride, never losing her temper, never raising her voice. Sirvart was also there, asking questions but being more subtle about it. I was talking to my friend Nadine when all of a sudden I heard Mrs. Martin say the word vampire. I wasn’t sure what the topic of conversation was between her, Sirvart and Suzie but I was suddenly intrigued. I continued talking to Nadine but kept half of my attention on the conversation being held behind me; it had something to do with a book.
After class was over we wall headed to our next destination, ready to get the day started and quickly finished. Later that day there was an assembly of some sort in the auditorium. I left a little early, but before I made my exit I stopped by Mrs. Martin’s seat and asked her about the book she was talking about in class with the other students. She said to me “I don’t remember the title of the book but the author’s name is Stephenie Meyer and the cover is a picture of two hands holding an apple.” I took in every word she spoke like a man stuck in the desert takes every drop of water to stay alive. After I said goodbye to both Mr. and Mrs. Martin I made my way to my locker, packed up, and went outside to wait for my mom to come pick me up. I got in the car and I told her to take me to Borders. The look she gave me was classic. She turned her head and looked at me like I’d grown a second head and asked me, after a moment of shocked silence “Why do you want to go to a bookstore?” I looked back at her and said in my very bland voice, “Mrs. Martin was talking about this book in class. I want to see what it’s about. It sounded interesting.” My mother looked at me for another moment or two to make sure I wasn’t pulling her chain and drove off to Borders. We walked in to the store and I went to the first person I saw that worked there. I asked them if they knew about a book that had two hands holding an apple on the cover and the authors name was Stephenie something. They very politely looked it up and led me to the Young Adult section of the store, picked up a book from the shelf and handed it to me. It was the book that Mrs. Martin was talking about. We walked to the check-out counter and I bought the book. I wasn’t sure what propelled me to actually BUY the book, but I did it anyways. When I look back on it now, I think the main reason was because it was something that Mrs. Martin had enjoyed and liked and that meant a lot, even though I didn’t realize it.
The school year ended and I put sophomore year behind me. The first days of summer were here, and I started them off with taking a peek at this book. It was a hardcover edition, shiny slip on cover; black background, white arms, pale as snow against the stark black, extending to the middle-bottom section of the cover holding a bright red apple, with the title Twilight running across the top. I opened the book and it creaked like any other book would because this was the first time it was being opened. But this creak sounded different to me because in some distance, far away part in my head unbeknownst to me, the first sound of this book being in my hands, being read by my eyes, the words, story line and writing style being taken in and absorbed by my brain would be the turning point for the rest of my life.
I read, and I read, and I read. I could not put that book down no matter what I tried. The minute I opened it and the first page caught my eye; “I’d never given much thought to how I would die – though I’d had reason enough in the last few months – but even if I had, I would not have imagine it like this. I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me. Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something. I knew that if I’d never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end. The hunter smiled in a friendly way was he sauntered forward to kill me.” I was hooked, and I knew. What I didn’t know was just how hooked I was.
Fast forward to the beginning of 11th grade. When the letter came in the mail telling us what our schedule was going to be like I was so nervous. I opened the letter and looked at my classes. I blew out a breathe I didn’t realize I had been holding what my eyes saw and my brain registered; English – Mrs. Martin. I felt the smile spread across my face like dawn spreads across the sky. I had Mrs. Martin. I HAD MRS. MARTIN! Oh, this was going to be a good year. Now it’s true that I didn’t enjoy every book we had to read or every story that was in our textbook, but it’s like that with every subject and at the same time, I was still finding out where my interests lay. More quickly that I wanted to admit I was becoming a reader. My friends would always see me with a book in my hand, and the more I read, the faster and better I got at it and my friends would soon me with a different book in my hand every week. No one knew where the change had come from and sometimes I forgot that I was changing at all.
For three years, Mrs. Martin was my English and Grammar teacher. At first, that was all she was; just a teacher. The next two years, she became so much more than that. She became my idol, my inspiration, my teacher beyond the classroom. Her teaching method’s are beyond comparison. I may be a little biased in this case but the teacher’s I’ve had in college are nothing like her. She made English intriguing. She knew how to teach, how to explain and how to make us put our understanding of what we had learned before into what we were learning at the time. It is because of her that I have made it to where I am today. It is because of this amazing woman, this incredible teacher that I am pursuing a career in English and learning more and more each and every day from the small, simple things, mistakes people make here and there when they speak, when they write, even when I speak and write, that I remember my days in her classroom and all the knowledge that has stayed with me, and will remain with me.
Even though Mrs. Martin is not the one who is being fired, the result is nonetheless the same. Mr. and Mrs. Martin a pair; getting rid of one means getting rid of both. They both love to teach and they are both the best at what they do. Whatever reason it is that has been created, the resulting factor of having them both leave the school is going to be the biggest mistake this school can possibly make. These teachers mean so much to the students, and being alumni I know what I’m talking about. I have friends in mostly every grade in high school at A.G.B.U and more acquaintances who all love the Martins. I have yet to meet a single person who doesn’t appreciate them and what they have to offer. The Martins are probably Manoogian’s greatest asset and most valuable educators they will ever see. Please, I beg you, all of you, whoever is reading this letter, whoever is in charge, KEEP THE MARTINS AT AGBU! Don’t let a good thing slip your fingers only to realize what a stupid mistake you made later on after it’s too late to fix the situation. Don’t take away the light they may shine into someone else’s life like they did to mine. We need more people like them in the world and having them in our little piece of it is a blessing. Make the right choice and listen to your hearts and to the voices of the many students who are writing to you, begging you, bleeding their hearts on paper to help make you understand. We are pleading for our favorite teachers. You cannot fake this kind of devotion and dedication nor can you find it anywhere else. You say you want what is best for the students, so listen to the masses, and really listen.
