The profound effect of a teacher's compliment

I received a note from my high school principal the other day.
"I want you to know that I really enjoy reading your column," Mr. Kay wrote.
Mr. William Kay was the principal at Canfield when I was in high school in the early '80s. To my credit, I did not get to know Mr. Kay very well. To me, he was the tall, stately-looking man with kind eyes that I said hello to when I passed him in the halls.
"I concur, walking is good for the soul," Mr. Kay's note continued, commenting on one of my most recent columns. "On my walk this evening, I thought about the thousands of young people with whom I shared so much time during their formative years. How very fortunate I was to have that opportunity."
I stopped for a moment as I read the note. "Thousands of young people..." That's a lot of lives, touched by one person. Here's a principal, who had to deal with all the problems and politics of a school system and he felt "very fortunate."
I chuckled for a moment before I went on, thinking that perhaps I should have gotten into a little trouble. I believe Mr. Kay's calm yet firm manner would have impacted my life. Little did I know, he was about to.
"It does, indeed, give me much pleasure to follow their careers and see that so many are living happy and full lives," Mr. Kay's note continued.
Up to this point in the note, I felt a wonderfully warm sense of happiness. This man that I had always held in high regard had not only remembered one, obscure child who had crossed his path for a few years, but he had taken the time to write a note.
I was not prepared for the next sentence.
"Gail, I want you to know that I am extremely proud of you."
Tears
There I sat at my desk in my cubicle at work; a grown woman with a husband and family; high school seemingly a million years ago, and I burst into tears. My high school principal was "proud" of me! The impact of his words struck my very core.
After I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked around the office to see if anyone had noticed my outburst, I chuckled to myself at how silly I was being. Yet, every time I read the note I found myself tearing up at the words of my principal.
That's what a teacher can do to a kid.
I am a confident, self-assured middle-aged adult, and a compliment from a former educator has me beaming like a shining star.
Imagine the impact of a complimentary word on an insecure, doubting adolescent.
If Mr. Kay can affect me in such a way, 20 years since I crossed his path, how profound is the effect of every educator on every child in the classroom today.
Building confidence
The greatest thing about children is, it takes only one person to believe in them for them to believe in themselves.
I've witnessed it in my own children. I can tell them they are smart or good in math. They don't quite believe it until they hear it from a teacher.
My son will never forget the words of his middle school principal.
"I like you," he said to my insecure preteen. "You know that I like you."
My son knew that I liked him. But knowing that his principal thought well of him gave him a greater sense of who he was.
School year nears
With the start of a new school year, thousands of young people will report to schools all across the Valley.
Some will arrive after having a full, refreshing summer ready to learn. Others will be less refreshed and enthusiastic about learning.
We are quick to recognize and reprimand the "bad" aspects of children's behavior. Certainly, detention and in-school suspension have a purpose and a reason.
Just as important is the recognition of those small, little details that children accomplish. It is those comments that young minds store away in their hearts and call on during times of turmoil and self-doubt.
And, as I realized with my letter from Mr. Kay, you're never too old to be touched by the words of a teacher.
gwhite@vindy.com