Dear, Mr. Pollack
I’m anonymously writing this letter to you, though it’s possible that you might recognize me; perhaps by my handwriting/font or the words you’re about to read.
I’m graduating high-school, both as valedictorian and class president, which undoubtedly wasn’t because of you. It has been several years since I last attended your class….such an extraordinary experience it had been.
The moments in your classroom had been memorable, the intensive pressure I had felt throughout my 5th grade reminding me consistently of our times together. I remember your consistent judgement, the hurtful comments, the falsified statements, all of it. Honestly, I don’t understand why I didn’t report your behavior to the Principal, perhaps it was because I thought I was being overly dramatic or because the Principal was compassionless. “Stop fake-crying, it’s getting annoying,” they had once said. Did you know that? But it still affected me remarkably, causing me to flinch during presentations and question my intelligence. It was like I was suffocating in the depths of the ocean, unable to escape from the darkness; cringy isn’t it.
Last night I was finishing my college application; though that’s only background information, afterwards I laid exhausted on my bed and reminisced about the excruciating experience I had during my 5th grade presentation. Recollecting about how you ignored me although it was my turn to present my speech, fortunately the second teacher was attentive and had focused on listening to my speech instead of conversing with another teacher, unlike you. It was both disturbing and nerve-racking how you had shown ignorance towards me, though it was your responsibility to nurture and guide students. Moreover, on one of the rare occasions when my Mother would pick me up from school; claiming that ‘it would be nice to get some fresh air,’ though it was usually because she needed help holding the shopping bags, it began raining immensely. However, the day wasn’t scheduled for downcast, so neither of us had any umbrellas and there weren’t any places to take shelter, meaning that both my and my Mother were unfortunately unable to escape the tumultuous weather raging through the path home. My Mother unfortunately became sick, though I was fortunately fine. Thus, creating the excuse “I don’t want to go to school, nothing good happens there,” which I used consistently throughout my 5th grade, which was frankly true, as with you there, I always dreaded going to school, nothing good happens there. And Mother even got a cold because she picked me up from school.
Others had told me that “hate” is a strong word and that people should say that they “hate” someone, nonetheless there isn’t another way to describe my feelings about you. “Hate” is a strong word and the impression you had on me was strong as well, so what’s so wrong about hating you? Thereafter deciding that I despise you, I felt immensely guilty about it. Therefore, leading to the idea of writing this letter after remembering about the book “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” which I had read several years beforehand.
I hope that you will now understand that your actions have consequences, not only for yourself, but to others as well.
Unfortunately, your former student
Livia XXXXX