Thinking of a superhero has been a tough path to go down for me. Why am I thinking of Superhero in the first place? Well, it has been niggling at me since I saw a Discover Challenge on WordPress’s Daily Post. I can’t say that I crave anything behind the human scope of possibility at the moment, I could care less about flying, I don’t need to run super fast and although having a super cool car like Batman would be a plus, all that stuff really doesn’t do a great deal for me.
I didn’t play with superhero toys when I was a kid, at least not that I can remember doing so, I used pragmatic stuff like Lego, Play People and Action Man and a huge collection of matchbox cars to pass my days. While there was a lot of imagination going it, it really didn’t venture out into superhero realms. The only Superhero that I was into in my mid-teens was Wonder Woman, watching re-runs on TV and I can’t think of a possible reason as to why that would have been.
But digging deeper inside I realise that I do have a hero that I wish I could express more gratitude and thanks to. A hero which will never know the impact that they made on my life. I’m not talking a superhero who ducked behind a wall to pull on a cape and a pair of underpants, but a real life, hard working, influential hero. That is my English teacher, Mrs Moran.
Mrs Leslie Moran.
This is going back to when I started upper school around the age of eleven probably. I have never, ever had a direction in my life. Thinking back to my childhood I never recall ever wanting to be something. I never wanted to be a fireman, an astronaut or certainly not an accountant (hated math) at all. So I would have been drifting along back then, as I have for most of my life, but when I start rewinding the tape and moving backwards and putting pieces together, I probably wouldn’t be who I am today without the influence of Mrs Moran.
She was my form Tutor and English teacher and I loved her. That was genuinely the only lesson in school that I fully absorbed, that I fully looked forward to with some passion and fervour, because it fit me like a glove. I was a quiet kid, as I am a quiet adult, but because of being nurtured in that English class I was allowed to express myself through writing and Mrs Moran was a rock of inspriation, motivation and support. Those lessons back then must surely have laid a foundation for my love of writing as it is now. That is probably the only environment in which I really felt comfortable and allowed to just be in my own mind and feel at peace and at one with what I was doing. I had found my direction in life without really ever realising it.
If the quality of the teacher had not have been in place, if that nurture through English lessons had not have been there, I probably would have rejected it all and found myself falling into something else. But because that basis of a love of writing was allowed to flourish there, it has never gone away. I craved more and more to impress Mrs Moran with my stories. I needed to do that and that helped me grow. Through my depressing teenage years I needed my writing to get through my dark days. Ever since those classes, my writing has stayed with me and I always think back and remember what Mrs Moran did for me.
Sadly she has passed on now and upon hearing the news I was affected by that loss. Actually a relative of mine actually ended up doing a eulogy at her funeral but I missed all this because I was out of the country and never really got to close out my loss. I did write Mrs Moran a letter a little while after getting back and I went to the cemetery and hunted around for her marker, so that I could lay my words of gratitude there by her. Sadly I never found that gravestone. I hope she is up there and feels this gratitude coming through.