Comments on: The Story of Alisa, Part 2

By: Alisa

Alisa — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 18:13:46 +0000

Curious– thanks for pointing that out. I just re- edited this piece and corrected that.

By: CuriousReader

CuriousReader — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 21:14:47 +0000

“My senior year, the teacher advisor choose me to become the paper’s managing editor. She picked someone else, let’s call him S, as editor in chief.”

Shouldn’t this be “chose me”?

Ironic faux pas in the part of the story where you are talking about editing

By: Alisa

Alisa — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 01:22:17 +0000

Laura–I SO remember you. You married Craig? I remember him, too. Crap–we need to reconnect!

By: Laura

Laura — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 00:41:14 +0000

Hi Alisa,
What a small world. I knew you at Penn State. My maiden name was Laura Amey and I was a Kappa Sig Little Sweetheart. I remember hanging out at your apartment on College Ave. I found your information on my sister-in-law’s facebook page about the Moms Tele-Summit. I saw your picture and thought to myself that you looked familiar and then it hit me on how I knew you. My husband is Craig Harris, he was a Kappa Sig. brother and his sister is Tracy Liebmann. You have done amazing things with your life and I’m sure there are more to come.
Have a Great Day,
Laura

By: Patti McCracken

Patti McCracken — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 19:23:06 +0000

Lovely.

I think I see some of myself in there somewhere. My mother certainly would. She likes to illustrate my so-called determination by telling (and re-telling) the story of how I learned to walk. Apparently, 11 months old and still edging my way around the room—grabbing chairs, sofas, tables–anything to support myself but not standing or walking on my own. Pretty pathetic.

My dad walked in the room and took one look at me stumbling around like a drunk in a bar and declared that I would not be walking before my first birthday. He turned on his heel and walked out again, surely disgusted.
My mother swears I understood him, which is why, according to her, I learned to walk that day.

Determination is the stuff of life. And Alisa, you got it.

By: mrsblessyt

mrsblessyt — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 00:47:57 +0000

so so me.

By: Melissa Cassera

Melissa Cassera — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 23:37:46 +0000

Love this! I feel the exact same way about my college pr professor. He actually told me to shut my mouth during a presentation because I didn’t know what I was talking about. I got C’s or worse on every press release I wrote. After I graduated, started my own PR firm, and decided to do everything the complete opposite that I was taught in college, I’ve landed clients in every major magazine and most top TV shows and have won business awards for my pr work.

I guess it’s immature for us to want to rub these situations in their face, but sometimes you just can’t help but giggle in glee

By: Alisa

Alisa — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 17:19:52 +0000

I kind of want to track down your teacher, Beth, and send her this line: To be or not to be….

And then ask her if it sounds familiar.

Not that passive voice IS great, but sometimes IT IS the best way to go.

By: Beth

Beth — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 17:10:16 +0000

Great post. My 10th grade English teacher also told me that I’d never be a writer. She also made me write stupid essay without using “to be verbs.” Years later, I spent 10 years writing for a national magazine. I’ve always wanted to call her and tell her this. Sometimes you just need to prove people wrong. And don’t always listen to what others say.

By: groovygranny

groovygranny — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 16:03:19 +0000

It’s amasing the motivation a “misguided” teacher can inspire.

In high school, I was part of a superb “experiment” designed by Columbia University: a combined history and English course called the Core Program. When we studied ancient Greece, for example, we also read the plays of Aeschylus. I had two years of this, taught by the two best teachers in the school. Then I had to take one more history course and pass the dreaded New York State History Regents exam. I got the worst teacher in the school. She also hated the “Core Babies,” as she called us, because she felt we had been pampered, had it easy, and did not have to learn the “facts.”

It did not help that I got sick that spring, with the terrible flu that was rampent in 1958 and it was followed by a strep infection (no doubt caused because I went back to school before I was over the flu). I missed three weeks of school, and returned the day of a history unit test which, of course, I failed.

To prove to this teacher she had underestimated me, I begged for another chance. No go. My only recourse was to study so hard for the regents that I would earn a high enough grade to offset this “F.” I did just that. I met with a friend every day after school and we memorized the history of the world–every battle, every date, every damn fact. When Miss Excuse for a Teacher passed out the grades, she came to me, smiled, and said “This was a pleasant surprise.” I could tell she did not mean it. I had earned a 95. She awarded me a “C” for the course, the only “C” I ever received in my four years of high school.

I did not become an historian. But I did become a college-level English instructor, an artist, I published a book about a Delaware artist, ran a DE state wide arts program, and now, in my “granny” years, I am director of education of an arts appreciation foundation. I owe it all to Miss Excuse for a Teacher.