English, espionage and education

I wasn’t always an English major.

As fall approaches, I am reminded of this time last year when I attended DePaul University. I studied in the theater school, which held its incoming freshmen to an intensive first quarter comprised entirely of theater classes.

I was also required to work backstage in the theater’s productions and committed to it rigorously. I lived and breathed theater for several months with little wiggle room for outside interests.

Needless to say, I grew slightly tired of it, craving an education outside of the dramatic world, missing classes where I wrote essays and read books. I yearned for metaphors and foreshadowing instead of “stage right” and “fly system.”

After one tiring test in theatrical history, I decided to wander around the Wicker Park area where I came across an establishment curiously named The Boring Store, which had an orange awning with an assortment of suspicious messages on it.

“No longer supplying anything of utility.”

“Purveyors of characterless, dreary, banal, mundane, tiresome and tedious merchandise after two years of absolutely no business.”

I was intrigued to say the least. Entering reluctantly, I found what appeared to be a shop for undercover spies, with walls of novelty disguises, X-Ray glasses, message decoders and other accessories of espionage.

Going further inside the store, I discovered another kind of merchandise: shelves upon shelves of books by authors like Dave Eggers, Nick Hornby, Jonathan Safran Foer and other names I had long-admired.

Ogling over titles by McSweeney’s and in awe by the countless budding post-modern writers, the man at the register startled me with his greeting.

“Hello, Secret Agent.”

He explained that The Boring Store worked with an organization called CHI826, which is a non-profit writing and tutoring center for kids in the Lincoln Park area. Several compilations of pupils’ prose and poetry were on display with the other books.

I peered into a room that read “Top Agents Only,” to see groups of kids sitting at tables, getting writing help with volunteer tutors.

At that moment, I realized exactly what I was missing with theater. This was the point at which I decided to switch gears in my education so I could be an English teacher.

The other day, I was talking to a friend of mine who aspires to the same profession. I asked him why, exactly, had he chosen this as his future career. He answered quite simply.

“An English teacher can really make a difference in a kid, you know? It’s important.”

I completely understood, as he reminded me of one of my favorite English teachers from high school, who ironically was named Mrs. Reid.

Mrs. Reid was someone who practically saved my freshman year. She was always there to help me keep up with my work, extending deadlines, encouraging me to explore further and praising work I did to keep my self-esteem going.

Three years later, I was on my way to graduating, and I asked Mrs. Reid if I could stop by her classroom to catch up.

Within minutes, I was telling her everything that was going on in my life, from friends and family to relationships and college. She sat and listened with genuine understanding. After hearing my worries about choosing the right major, she gave me the most honest and comforting advice a person could ever receive.

“Do what you love, and I promise everything will work out all right.”

I want to fill that role in a student’s life. I want to help kids find their voice and foster a person’s ability to think for himself or herself. I want to be someone students go to when they are lost and need an adult opinion.

I am not saying only English teachers can do this, nor am I trying to create a fabrication in which I become Robin William’s character in “Dead Poets Society.”

But with five student suicides in the past month, and countless more that we don’t hear about, this epidemic is awakening the nation. We are constantly reminded of the importance of a person’s support system.

Suicide, the No. 3 cause of death for teenagers, should bring our attention to the source. High school can be a rather unforgiving place, as we all know.

So if an English teacher can be that difference in a student’s life, then sign me up. I want to be there for students just as much as I want to teach them Shakespeare.


E-mail: ftirado@indiana.edu