When a letter can either, make OR break you!!! It’s, really important, that you find the write professor to write this letter for you, like this person had, learned, many, many, many years later, translated…
As W carried the breakfasts into the class, I was just talking to the students on how the students in the past made their choices between the socializing or the choices of one’s own life, that the values and self-confidences of a person, can’t be relied on anything external, only within, etc., etc., etc.—and these courses that started at eight in the morn, it seemed, that I was using these words, to keep myself going, to cover up my tired mind, so as W sat down, I’d not felt displeased at her being late as she usually had been, instead, her entering into class became, a sort of a stopping point in my lecture. I looked at her breakfast, the sort of most common, least creative kind sold around the school, a sandwich and a cup of tea, Y used the voice she could, for communicating, said to me, professor, I need your help on something.
This is the season of entering into higher studies, or seeking out jobs, and, there would always be students who’d come, and asked us, professors, to write them the assortment of recommendation letters, and I’d always felt, that writing these were, surreal, and that by not going into depth, it seemed, irresponsible; and, being too into writing these, I’d worried, if I will, cause the outcomes to be bad, so, every time I’d asked by students to write these, it’s like I’m, taking the major exams, to recall back up what each student was like in my classes, along with everything about her/him. W wanted me to write her a recommendation letter for the graduate exams, she’d carried that sense of shame and unsettlement, said, professor, I’m really sorry, but all those letters you’d written for me, I’d not gotten in, and I’m truly sorry, to have to, come to you like this……..as W stated, she’d, started crying, she told me that she was, awful, that she couldn’t do anything well at all, and why are all the professors not like her at all?
Seeing how the tears flowed down W’s face, in the tears that were caught in her glasses, I saw me. Back then, just like W, I too, was experiencing the defeats of my life, wanted to prove my own worth by taking the examinations, I’d gone before my professor, asked him to write me my recommendation letter. Unlike most of the professors, he’d not had us write the letters, then bring it to him to sign it, nor did he used the way to say nothing but good things about the students, I knew, that the professor could, see the students’ abilities and what they’d still needed to improve on; I will always remember, how a few days later, as I’d received that stack of pages of recommendation letters, I’d, held the envelope up toward the skies, hoping I can, catch a few word, and how, I’d wanted, to open up the sealed up letter, to know how the professor saw me.
But, that place where my professor had, signed her name, I’d naturally, not, opened it, until as I was being interviewed at a graduate department, then I saw that torn open envelope, with the written letter, which was, passed along by the interviewing professors, like some cheap ad; from time to time, the interviewing professors would look up at me, and I, at this end of the conference table, felt like that small group had gotten a hold of some secrets of mine, they’d, used their laughter, to change the consensus they’d, reached about me, and, one professor had, taken his glasses off, put it on the table, to silence up the room. I knew, that that was, a code, to tell me, to ignore them, but I’m sorry, other than that, there’s, nothing more I can do for you.
That interview had such a huge impact on me, it was so very, insulting, as I exited the room, I’d called up my professor, told him what happened, and he’d said, that he’d, expected it.
He’d expected it. After so many years, I still couldn’t figure it out, how it’d, ended like so, perhaps, I’d not known the studies that well, or maybe, I didn’t write a good essay; until these past few years, as I started writing my students their recommendation letters, it’d finally, dawned on me, that it was, next to impossible, to put everything that the students had learned, how they’d interacted with their classmates, how they’d, struggled in life in general, all, into a letter………I’m guessing, that my professor back then, must’ve, written about the me she’d known the best, and, she’d wanted others, to know me as a human being, instead of, defining me as a score, a grade. A genuine recommendation letter, may not do what it’s supposed to, get the students accepted into school, but, the ingenuity in the letters, can cause a chain reaction, and it would, become meaningful, at one time in our lives.
So, when W told me, “Why do all the professors hate me?” I’d finally understood, that back then, I’d, longed for my professors’ affirmations, and, the letter my professor wrote on me, was like a sort of a mysterious gift, I’d thought it was an answer, or a gift, but, it’d, opened up, a world of possibility for me instead.
I don’t know if any student will actually, tear open my recommendation letters of them to read (or no matter what what I’d written on them will get known), but I will, write two letters, one, to you, who’d, desired success, this one is, sealed; and another, to you, who’d, longed for the answers in your own lives, and this one, you must, open on your own.
And so, maybe, this person had, hated her/his professor, for writing the recommendation letter, that got her/him laughed out of the room by the board of professors who were, reviewing the applications, but, as the person later figured out, that what her/his professor wrote, was not just on the surfaces, the grades, the scholastic/academic performances, but, of her/him, as a human being!