Ugh, I’m really sad today. I found out a couple hours ago that my middle school arts teacher, Linda Bryant, passed away this morning. She’d taught art at that middle school for 38 years.
Ms. Bryant was a force in my life. She was my cheerleader and defender at a time in my life when I didn’t have many of those, and desperately needed them. I spent hours with her, on breaks and after school, talking about life and honing my writing skills. She read many of my pieces, and always provided thoughtful critiques and encouragement. I edited the middle-school magazine with her as the faculty supervisor. I’m pretty sure, in eighth grade, that magazine was composed 75% of my writing and drawings. “They should just call it the Sasha magazine,” joked a friend at the time. But Ms. Bryant insisted that all those pieces be included. “There’s nothing else as good as your stuff,” she said. Other students resented her favoritism toward me. But she loved me so much, and I loved her back.
Ms. Bryant told me I would be a writer when I grew up. “I’m going to be an astronaut, or a computer programmer,” I told her. “No, dear,” she said. “You’re going to be a writer.” She was, of course, correct. I tried the other careers, but I ended up back at writing.
I’ve since, on several occasions, had the opportunity to thank her for things she did for me, but I don’t feel like it was enough. Those years are a difficult time for everyone, but I think they were especially rough on me. I just had so many ideas about who I was and no sense of how to combine them into a single coherent person that could function in the world. I was a very lost little girl. Ms. Bryant gravitated toward young women like me, and she steered us. She held our hands through that time in our lives. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that she always taught middle school. It’s such an incredibly difficult time in a bright, creative young woman’s life. Ms. Bryant thrived on being a light and a guide for me, and for other young women like me. I have thanked her for supporting my creative endeavors. I have thanked her for encouraging me to write. I have never thanked her for being a true friend at a time when I didn’t have many. I have never thanked her for defending me at a time when I was a difficult and angry and impetuous young woman with few defenders. I have never acknowledged that she saw through all that and nurtured the child and the talent beneath all the anger.
I always assumed Ms. Bryant would be at my first book party, smiling and cheering me on. I just always pictured her there. I always imagined she’d watch my career unfold, congratulating herself on the woman I’d become. I told my mother that when I heard the news. “She will be at your book party,” my mom said, “watching over you from above.”
I think that’s probably true. She’ll have a better vantage point from there anyway. But I’m so sad that she’s gone, and I’m so sad that other young women at that school won’t have the opportunity to have her as their teacher and guide. I don’t know what I would have been without her. It’s such a great loss. You will be missed, Ms. Bryant. Thank you, for everything.
