A Letter To My High School English Teacher – Ms. Scorca


With the summer I had, I have looked back and reflected upon many different parts of my life. Just recently I’ve realized what a huge impact one small class in high school and one teacher has actually had on my life. And I can’t express how much I appreciate that class and all it has done for me.

So this is my letter to my high school English teacher, Ms. Scorca. Because she deserves to know how much she has actually done for me.


Dear Ms. Scorca,

You more than likely do not know the impact you have had on my life. At the time, I didn’t know it either.

When I look back and realize all the things I did in high school, your class always stands out to me. For reasons that while I was doing them seemed silly, but now I realize that they were just the tools I needed to get through just about anything.

These little things sometimes seem to get swept under the rug.

Not this time.

I personally wanted to let you know the impact your class has had on me throughout the years.

You see it wasn’t until about a year ago when I picked back up writing. It was always something that I actually enjoyed. I loved telling stories, and sharing things that I have heard about others or even life events that I have went through.

When picking writing back up it all just seemed so easy again. And for the longest time I could not figure out why.

In class, we learned all the usual high school English things.

How to write an essay properly. What punctuations to use where. How to analyze a book and find the deeper meaning of it. Even if the book was boring for some. Not saying I hated all of them, but maybe a few.

But then there were the things that were not so usual about our English class.

We got to do things like show and tell. Everyone of us had the opportunity not only to go up and show how we were different and unique but it also showed that although everyone in that class had their differences, it really doesn’t base how you are as a person.

I personally love knowing about these small unique talents of everyone. Whether it be Lianne, who went up to show something insanely insignificant but be able to make the entire class laugh. Or someone like Brandon, who brings in his guitar and serenades the whole class. Each one was a story waiting to come out and be told.

Everyone should embrace their uniqueness and their individuality, because being different makes life such a better experience.

But when I look back on the class and think about what really helped me get to where I am with my writing today, it was the journals you constantly made us write in.

It could be about whatever we wanted. No one was going to read it except you.

At first it was intimidating. But after a while it got easier and easier.

I was confident to write about my life to someone who at the time happened to be somewhat of a complete stranger. But as class went on, you became a stranger no more.

There’s is something to be said about a person, not just a teacher, who opens her heart to every one around them and embraces every difference about them. A person who doesn’t judge or base things upon looks.

It’s something that cannot be taught. But it can be learned. If you spread this personality enough, it becomes a virus and everyone catches on.

Whether it be just for the time being of the class or for the Rey of their lives, it is solely up to them.

Now here I am five and a half years later in my last semester of school. I write for the school newspaper, and with that I write, if I do say so myself, one kick ass column.

I may not be great at expressing my emotions verbally and physically, but give me a pen and paper or an app on my phone to type, everything pours out and the words just seem to write themselves.

I am no longer worried about what others think of what I write because I’m not writing for them. I’m writing for myself. There are people in this world that just won’t enjoy anything you do. They will never be happy for your successes, and there are others who will celebrate you on your ride to success. It’s just something we all have to live with.

Something that a little journal I kept in class, and a great teacher, has taught me.

I am overjoyed that I am able to still keep in touch with you and see you from time to time. And as the children who I once babysit are now growing up and off to the high school I am excited to tell them what a great teacher they are getting.

Not only am I proud to say that you were my teacher, I am even more proud to call you one of my friends!

Thank you for everything, Rachael!

Always on safety patrol.

P.S. Upon rereading this, it almost sounds like I could be talking about the teacher in Freedom Writers! Although the journal part was there.