Back to the Future

I didn't have very many teachers I liked in high school. Most were ok, some were truly terrible. In fact, I think The Gymnast might have been the only one I wouldn't mind being stuck having coffee with today.

He was small - short and tiny-wristed, almost dainty, but fairly strong. I never thought much about it until he told us he put himself through college as a gymnast. Suddenly, his compact body made perfect sense. He was sarcastic and witty; his humor would often escape my classmates. When it did, he would curl up the right side of his lip, and I was never sure if he was mocking them or genuinely amused by their confusion.

I took two classes with him: British Litterature my junior year and then film my senior year. Both classes, sadly, only lasted a semester. Still, it was enough time for me to put little post-its in my brain: notes on how to write an effective essay, notes on how to analyze lighting in a film, notes on how to be a good teacher.

In my senior year film class I repeatedly got high on learning. Yes. My pulse raced and I'm sure my eyes dilated on numerous occasions. I remember the first film we studied was "Cool Hand Luke," and I was astounded at how much there was to break down, analyze, and develop. I had never thought that film could be so complex, and I loved discovering it all for the first time. I did the homework for fun and went of to college decided on being a film major.

That didn't happen. I did journalism, instead, which can get pretty damn close. I spent lots of time with cameras, editing machines, and footage. My random visits to the TV studios were spent deciding on angles and composing logical sequences.

Senior year in college, I took a television production class. It was the greatest disappointment of my life; nothing compared to The Gymnast's revolution. I suppose I had been expecting greatness, and my professor, a real douche-bag, had us memorize the Television Production Handbook. She litterally pulled sentences directly out of the book with blanks for us to fill in on the final. It was the ultimate in busy work. Another post-it: what not to do as a college professor. That was the only B I got in four years of university.

Shortly afterwards, I tried to write The Gymnast an email. I thanked him for treating us like grown-ups, but also for making us work. I told him where I am today, how I got here, and where I'm hoping to go. And I told him that I think he had something to do with it, and that he really does make a difference in peoples' lives. I never heard back, although I don't know if he ever got it.

One of my best friends from high school is in Paris now. She's here for the summer. A few days ago, we stayed up all night trying to remember things that are slipping away from us. She was also a fan of The Gymnast; she took his film class the semester after I did. Earlier that year, she had helped me on my solo project by being one of the two main actresses.

She was telling me about her brother - who in my mind is still 12 years old - and what it was like going to his high school graduation, when we had the following converstion:

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," she said, "My brother took film with The Gymnast this year."

"Really? Did he like it?"

"Yeah, yeah, he totally did. But The Gymast showed your film."

"What?"

"Yeah, he showed your film as an example to the class. It was crazy for my brother, of course, because there he was watching his big sister from when SHE was in high school. But still. Funny, huh?"

I can't really explain how much this affects me. Right at the moment I'm thinking about going back to journalism, I find out that my favorite teacher has used my project for the past six years as a class example. I'm honored, but I'm also mystified. Somehow, I feel as if things have come back full circle. For some reason, I find this all very reassuring. It's as if now I realize that I have been complicating things for nothing, and that, at the source, I know where I stand and what I want to do. And even better, that position has just been validated by my past.