Thank you, English teachers

In February last year, I was asked to write a letter of support for one of my college English professors so that she’d be selected for a prestigious teaching award. It was something I had hoped I would have the opportunity to do, or something similar to it. This was not simply because of nostalgia. My livelihood—my happiness as an adult—has been shaped by my Humanities education.

The Myth of the Unhappy Humanities Graduate

At roughly the same time I wrote my letter, the American Academy of Arts & Sciences released a study based on data from the U.S. Census, Gallup polling, and other government sources that “challenges the myth of the underemployed, unhappy humanities graduate,” as stated by Inside Higher Ed. The study found that while graduates with a degree in Humanities tended to earn less than their STEM counterparts, more of them (42%) tended to feel they had enough money to do everything they wanted to do in life compared to those who studied Education, Business, the Social Sciences, and the Arts.

What’s more, unemployment rates among Humanities bachelor’s degree holders in all age groups dropped between 2013 and 2015. Most Humanities bachelor’s degree holders are satisfied with their salaries, benefits, job security, and opportunities for advancement.

I didn’t know any of this at the time of writing my letter. In discovering this data today, it’s doubly pleasing based on what I wrote about my own post-graduate experience. I’d like to share the contents of that letter now, with the teacher’s name altered or removed for anonymity.

My Professor’s Letter of Recommendation

February 4, 2018

To the Award Committee:

It is with esteemed pleasure that I write to recommend my former professor and long-time friend for your Teaching Award. I have often imagined ways in which I could repay her for the experience she provided me when I was an undergraduate. I’m glad that opportunity has come in the form of this award nomination, for which I am writing this letter of support.

As a man who has made his career in professional writing, my experience in her classroom has been indispensable. I will start this letter describing some of the things I’ve gained from her teaching style. I would also like to share about our lasting relationship and her lasting relationships with so many of her devoted students.

As a professional analyst and copywriter, I must bring to my job a greater degree of creative capacity than most might think. I manage up to twelve writing projects simultaneously, and in every case, my only foundational resource is a handful of data.

Many of these projects have a value of up to $30,000. Our clients are highly involved in the review process during the writing phases. Not all of their critiques are forgiving. Consider the expectations of business leaders who invest tens of thousands of dollars in your work. This is not an easy environment in which to write, day in and day out.

What does this have to do with my experience with this professor? Everything. I didn’t know it at the time, but her classroom was an incubator for creative writers of all stripes. This includes myself, working for a world-class research organization in Manhattan, New York.

The art of this professor’s process was not only in her constructive scrutiny of her students’ writing. This in and of itself was hugely valuable. In retrospect, I could tell her comments were prepared at the start of each critique. But all of her students were offered the chance to speak first.

It was in her facilitation of this public review of our work where I learned to accept criticism from my peers. This, I know, is one of the hardest skills for anyone in creative fields to master. Even in my professional life, many of my peers struggle with our clients’ reviews. This really slows them down and hurts client relationships, which can’t happen in our line of work.

Her class was often uncomfortable. But it was what we needed to push forward as writers. And with some kind of artistry, she always managed to prevent some damaging conflict. This, even when seeing my fellow students—those who struggled with the critiques—having a hard time keeping their heads.

Of course, I never imagined a classroom critique of my fiction short stories would be part of my foundation as a professional. What I did know, at the time, is that this was a learning environment unlike any other. I wanted positive feedback from my classmates, so I learned to engage them with my writing. I learned that engaging your audience is critical, while most writers write only for themselves.

Now, I must write to engage corporate executives who run $1 billion-dollar companies. Where else in my liberal arts education would I have developed the skills for that environment?

It took years of work and skills-building to get where I am today. But most of the skills I have today are because of the capacities I developed in her classroom. And developing those capacities as a writer is more important than any amount of technical or literary theoretical understanding of the written word. I say this even after completing a graduate degree in writing following my undergraduate education.

I will add one more note about my relationship with this professor. And really, it’s not about my relationship, but a small community of relationships. She is the professor you want to see first if ever you go back to campus. She is the person for whom I volunteered to clean up the mold in her bathroom as a student, and for whom I would do it again in a moment’s notice.

I’m not alone in these sentiments. My wife and I were both her students, and we talk about her often. We communicate with her on social media. And we communicate with her other students who share our sentiments about her.

There is nothing more critical in one’s education than gaining lasting skills that become assets throughout one’s life. This most often comes in the form of knowledge. But I’ve found knowledge has its limits. What’s more important is the capacity to take on more responsibility and to learn. It’s a capacity to be confident in taking the next unknown step, having proven it’s possible before. This professor uncommonly helped me develop a capacity to do better, to take criticism, and to delight my audience day in and day out—just like I do now, every day.