The Day My Teacher Murdered My Storytelling Dream (and How I Resurrected It)

I always walk the same way home, but this time is different. I’m walking at my normal pace, but tears are running down my face. I’m nine years old, on my way home from school, and I found out my teachers are murderers – they have just killed a love of mine.

When we got the assignment in German class, I didn’t think it would spark a passion I forgot I had. But that’s not where I found it. I rediscovered my passion for storytelling in the most unexpected of places: handicrafts class – and with the knitting of a finger puppet.

Handicrafts was my kryptonite. I hated it. My handicrafts teacher knew it, and she loathed me for it. My disinterest in the subject was only outclassed by my lack of talent for it. But this time was different. Because in German class, we got the assignment to write a story for this finger puppet.

Game on.

I remember our German teacher telling us that somebody had already turned in their finger puppet story – and it spanned over two pages! This might sound not like much, but remember, we’re talking about nine-year-olds here. Two pages of text is a novel at that age.

I hadn’t started with my story yet. I was suffering from paralysis by analysis – until that one fateful evening. The movie I watched that night obliterated the dilemma of my prepubescent self. The tale that solved my predicament was one of the greatest stories known to mankind: Star Wars. This night, the course my finger puppet hero would take was clear. Like Luke Skywalker, my finger puppet would take to the stars.

When I was done, my story spanned over twelve pages, had three arcs, two main characters and one goal in mind: mesmerizing people.

I can’t remember the last time I was so proud of something that I created. But what my teachers did next shattered it into pieces.

Part of the assignment was reading the story in front of the whole class. For some odd reason, we had to read the story not in German class, but during handicrafts. That’s where my downfall began.

It was right before lunch break. My handicrafts teacher knew that I had written by far the longest story. She called me in front of the class with four minutes left before lunch break. Everybody was already hangry and ready to go home. This left me with two choices:

• taking the time my story deserved and earning the hate of my classmates or
• turn into a battle rapper and read the entire twelve pages before the bell rang

Because a nine-year-old’s need to fit in is only superseded by the want for sugar in all forms, I chose the latter.

None of my classmates listened to my story. They were angry that they had to sit through my babbling. The first cracks in my heart were created. But what it broke was what happened next.

In the next German class, my teacher told the whole class that someone had written twelve pages. He assured everybody that this wasn’t the assignment. Actually, it was too much. If everybody had written that many pages, he wouldn’t have been able to give us feedback in time. In other words: he despised doing the work he was paid to do.

To be fair, my story read like bad Star Wars fan fiction. But that’s forgivable for a nine-year-old. The only thing I wanted more than writing Star Wars stories was to be a Jedi myself (that dream didn’t change with age to be honest). But shutting down voluntary extra effort from a child is horrible. It teaches the child not to pursue his or her own interests – what is taught in school are the only things that matter. That’s how easily authority figures can supercharge or crush your dreams.

This shows two things:

• that the importance of teachers is still criminally under-appreciated and
• that not everybody who is a teacher should be one

But I realize now that it’s in my power – and my responsibility – to reverse the damage done. It took me almost twenty years to write and tell stories again. But late is better than never.

The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.
– Chinese proverb

If something that you love got stomped out, then please rekindle it. It will bring more light in your life than you can imagine.