Dear Miss Kalin

Dear Miss Kalin

Many years have passed since you last saw me and I doubt you will remember me. I was one of a sea of students that passed through your classroom at MacRob, circa mid 1970s. You were my fourth form English teacher and together with my best friend Marlene, we sat in the very front row of desks like the nerdy book worms we were.
 
You may be wondering why I’m writing to you after all this time. I’ve written my first book which is soon to be released. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my trajectory as a writer and I realised my origins started in your classroom. I remember Roget’s thesaurus was one of the first books you asked us to buy. I had never seen a thesaurus before, let alone a reference book that was organised in such an eclectic way, so unlike a dictionary. You explained its structure was like a tree, branching out into classes, divisions and then sections.
 
And like leaves at the end of branches, there were words – flowing, shimmering, mystifying words. So of course the first book I bought when I began my manuscript was a thesaurus. The book shop I visited had an abundance of thesaurus (or should that be thesauri?) -  Penguin, Collins and Macquarie editions but no Roget. It didn’t seem right to buy a different edition so I ordered the Roget which is now a permanent fixture on my desk and a reminder of your class.

The first text we studied was Henry Handel Richardson’s, The Getting of Wisdom about the exploits of rebellious Laura at a privileged and conservative boarding school. Each week, we had to read a chapter and then write a précis of the key themes in six lines. Exactly six lines; no more, no less.
 
There was a ritual to Sunday nights in my family. My father made his famous egg and feta cheese toasties in the Sunbeam electric frying pan and the family then gathered in front of the television to watch ’60 Minutes’. Except for me. I was sweating over my précis which I had to submit the next day. After a few false starts, it didn’t take me long to understand that a précis wasn’t a summary of the plot or my critique of the chapter. I soon learned that the précis is a distillation of the chapter’s thesis, its undercurrent. With twenty five chapters to work through, the writing exercise taught me the value of brevity, clarity and making every word count as Strunk would say.
 
My time in your classroom left an indelible mark – a love of words but not just any words, the right words, the words that will propel a sentence, evoke an emotion, capture a fleeting moment. I am indebted to you for this love of writing and encouraging us to read widely and critically, the traces of which can all be found in my forthcoming book.
 
Efxaristo poli
 
Maria
(ex-Form 4C MGHS)