Write Up

During the in-class critique, Daniel told me to add in a quote, but he didn't say where. He told me he understood the relationship and intent of the piece, and that I need to put a little more emphasis on how my icon changed my perspective, and go more in-depth in how I inspired others. I hope that in my next draft I can accomplish that.


American Icons: Kristina Wenger

I walked into Kristina Wenger’s third grade classroom for the first time in 2001. I had met Ms. Wenger before I entered her class, since she had been my brother’s teacher as well, and he had told me how fun her class was. I was, like many eight-year-old girls on the first day of school, excited but nervous as Room 8 greeted me: six pods of tables, a spacious rug, shelves of organized books, and a clean white board. This was the first year I had entered school without my best friend, and Kris Wenger became the first friend I had made since she had moved away.
As the year progressed, and the first day became the second, and the second day went on to become the first week, and the first week became months, Ms. Wenger became more than just my teacher. She was someone I could talk to and who could understand me. I had taken to coming in during recess and asking if there was anything I could help with. I would file papers or organize tests alphabetically or help set up supplies for the next experiment we were going to do in class. And every time I came into her classroom to help, we would talk about how my brother was doing, what I was drawing, her pets, what our favorite kinds of candies were… We could talk about anything.
After I graduated her class, my fourth grade and fifth grade teachers didn’t need the help that I offered and didn’t have anything they wanted me to do, so I went back to Kris Wenger. I liked helping her out, and I could tell her how my new classes were going or she would tell me how enthusiastic her new students were. We would arrange a time for me to come in and teach her students some of the things I learned from her, or just fun things to give them a little break, like Origami or art. I would show her my drawings and poems and ask for her opinion and critique. We’d eat lunch together, she’d give me chocolates and I’d give her poems and pictures. We became even closer as the years passed. She helped form the person I am today.
To me, an American is just a person that lives and breathes the same air as any person in this land. An American is a hard worker who is able to connect with other people. An American doesn’t have to be the flag-waving, military politician wearing red, white and blue; it isn’t a stereotypical football-watching hotdog-eating blond-haired blue-eyed Christian. Kris showed me what an American was. She is an American, hard-working and spirited and caring, creating the foundations of a future for her students like she did for me. She showed me America, the one I live in now and the one I hope to make better for the next generation. I might not be a teacher like her, but our goals are the same. There’s a bright message we hope to pass on to the people after us.
I still go back to her classroom, and I see each year how the third graders get smaller as I get bigger. I see how excited they are and I recall that that’s how I used to be, eager to learn new things in her classroom. I wonder if any of these kids will be like me, visiting the past and creating a future, changing lives by simply being there? I may not be a teacher, and I may just be a friend and classroom assistant who’s there to find smiles and not work and money, but maybe, someday, or even now, I might have inspired someone to become better, just like how Kris inspired me.