As I spoke with industry specialists and authors about the publishing industry this last year, an unsettling feeling seemed to always follow me out the door. I couldn't quite put my fingers on it; after all, I had finally decided that I wanted to pursue my passion for literature (or really, just BOOKS). Naturally, this was done in the publishing industry. But after another disheartening conversation with a first time author, I discovered that the industry is not actually about furthering knowledge and delving deeper into margins and the meaning behind similes and juxtapositions. Publishing houses are BUSINESSES, not a hub for book lovers and poets to gather in one place and share that underlining understanding that they are all united in the vast world of trolls and Twitter abusers.
This realization broke my heart.
And subsequently led me to switching tracks in English to pursue my teaching certificate and master's in education so that I can teach high school English. The only way to change the way that this generation thinks (from one of "That's a stupid book" to "I could read all day") starts at the hearth.
My sweet fifth grade teacher always applauded my lame attempts at composing short stories. Her confidence gave my little feet wings. We read fabulous books, painted and studied American history. That year was pivotal for my feeble brain. That year was the year that I truly realized my passions and future lay in the sphere of literature and creative writing. That was the year I stomped home and informed my mother that I was going to be a writer, all because Mrs. Rodolf had faith in me.
Teachers are not to be overlooked. They possess the love and influence that every professional should be jealous of and admire. They are the mothers of failing children, the lovers of the heartbroken and lost. They are the encouragers of a promise for the new day.
