An Open Letter to My Old English Teacher
Dear Sir, I hope this letter finds you well.
You might not remember me, but back in 2009 I was a student in your English class at Wester Hailes Education Centre. I sat at the back, alone, facing the wall. I was the one you said you’d help “if you had time” however, it seems, time was always in short supply.
I want to start by being honest: you hurt me. Your actions made me feel stupid and singled out. Every single day that I attended your class was a reminder that I wasn’t like the others, that somehow I was less capable, less worthy of attention and guidance. The isolation I felt of that desk at the back of the room became a physical manifestation of how I felt inside - alone, confused, and struggling.
Your promise to help me “if you had time” was a constant disappointment. Why? That time never came, and with each passing lesson, my self-esteem became a little more damaged. I began to believe that maybe I was stupid, incapable of learning, and undeserving of an education.
Years later, however, I discovered the truth: I am dyslexic. This revelation was both a relief and a source of frustration. Relief, because I finally understood why I struggled so much. Frustration, because I realised how much unnecessary pain and self-doubt I had gone through. Learning about my dyslexia opened new doors for me. I found ways to learn that worked with my brain, not against it. The anxiety that had plagued me in your classroom began to disappear as I discovered my true potential.
Now, 15 years later, I stand before you as a different person. I’ve graduated from Edinburgh Napier University with a First Class Honours degree in International Festival and Events Management. As I write this, I’m pursuing a Master’s degree in International Marketing with Consumer Psychology. It does seem surreal to have achieved so much academically when once upon a time I felt so incapable. The journey from that isolated desk at the back of the room, to where I am now with a first class honours degree, has been long and challenging, but immensely rewarding.
Oddly enough, I find myself wanting to thank you. Your lack of faith in me, intentional or not, ignited a determination within me to prove you wrong. Each achievement, each hurdle overcome, has been a silent rebuttal to the limitations you inadvertently placed upon me. However, this thank you comes with a word of caution: what you did was wrong. No child should feel stupid or unworthy of attention in a classroom. Your actions had a profound impact on my self-esteem and my relationship with education. It’s crucial that educators understand the power they hold and the lasting effect their words and actions can have on their students.
I want you to know that I forgive you. I’ve come to understand that everyone, including teachers, can make mistakes. Perhaps you were overwhelmed, or maybe you lacked the training to recognise and support a student with dyslexia. Whatever the reason, I’ve chosen to let go of the anger and resentment.
My hope in writing this letter is twofold. First, that you might reflect on your teaching practices and consider how you can better support all students, especially those who struggle. Second, I hope that my story might inspire other students who feel defeated by the education system. To them, I say: your struggles do not define your potential. With the right support and a lot of determination, you can achieve more than you ever thought possible.
In closing, I want to thank you once again - not for what you did, but for what you inadvertently inspired me to become. My success is not because of your treatment, but in spite of it. And in that, there is a powerful lesson for us all.
Sincerely,
Your Former Student, Alistair
