When I was in high school, I took a class called Women in Literature, and I probably should dedicate this post to my teacher, Ms. S.. She gave me a lot of encouragement regarding my ideas and writing. I was as quiet as a mouse in the class, feeling far too shy to participate. I never raised my hand. I couldn't. I was painfully shy, and must have turned crimson when called on. Once, I had to give an oral presentation, and stood in front of the class, panic stricken, sick to my stomach, knees shaking, completely enervated. It was awful! I was awful! Ms. S. told me I had "low energy" during the presentation. However, I always did well on my essays about literature by Virginia Woolf and other famous women authors. My classmates were surprised that I actually had a voice, not spoken but written, because I was so quiet. These days, I find that I can (usually) talk up a storm with just about anyone, but I still remember my shy days, and think of Ms. S., who believed in me.Photo of Laura Ingalls Wilder from Wikipedia






