My Superhero of English

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. wonder-woman2

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.

man-1454744_1280If 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.


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