Letter to My Mentor

By Rose Jaramillo

Dear Mr. Mentor,

I knew I had to write you a letter of gratitude. I also knew that if I turned it in, you would make me read it aloud. No way was I going to let that happen. So, I cleverly planted this letter in your classroom (or at least tried), and if all goes according to plan, I will be long gone by the time you see it. Was this plan necessary? No. Did I just want an excuse to turn a simple assignment into a secret mission? Of course.

I’ve been looking through my Drive recently and binging every video I’ve made for your classes. Oh boy. There are some gems, and there are some that make me pray for amnesia. Hopefully, you don’t remember them. But if you do, you know which ones I’m talking about. But the good videos—Sick Day Commercial, Football Hype Video, Foreign Film, and Snickers Commercial—most of them were made this year. And the only reason they’re good is because you’re a good teacher, which is weird since you didn’t give us many lectures or actual lessons. That is part of A/V’s quirk. We’ve all grown with practice, experience, and self-deprecation. At least, that’s how I grew.

In my first year, I was a self-conscious mess. I chose my current seat because I thought you’d be up at the board most of the time (as if). To my horror, I chose the seat closest to your desk. That was a blessing in disguise, though. Even though you had to witness me flounder around Photoshop and generally make a fool out of myself, at least I didn’t have to leave my chair to ask for help. In case you haven’t realized, I hate asking for help. Last year, I would rather sit in my seat and twiddle my thumbs at my computer for forty minutes than ask you a simple question. And I did. Multiple times. Eventually, I conceded and asked you for help. That’s when I came to the shocking realization that I could ask for help and then promptly receive it—a novel concept, I know. I, too, was astonished. Thanks to you, I learned that asking for help is not a weakness. In asking for help, I realized I wanted to learn and cared about A/V. Your willingness to help and your ability to guide made it easy to grow.

I hate to think that you’ve piled your students into a list of “Most Favorable” to “Most Forgettable” and that I would not be in the top percentile of “Most Favorable.” Still, I sometimes wonder what my A/V experience would look like if I hadn’t been as involved or hadn’t already been friends with some of the “A-listers.” Throughout the years, I’ve felt like both a seasoned veteran and an insecure imposter. On good days, I’ve felt like a seasoned imposter or an insecure veteran. This phenomenon feels like a part of my journey. How else can I have faith in myself if I don’t experience doubt first? I don’t know how long this will last or if it will ever truly end. What I do know is that I thrived in your classes. I gave every assignment my all (except for the occasional graphic), and I do feel like I’m worthy to sign a CD and immortalize myself on that cinder block wall.

Thank you for giving me opportunities to learn and be versatile in the A/V world. I’m excited to continue pursuing film at UCA. And although I may feel insecure and make something cringe, I know I’ ll also make something that pleasantly surprises me. A piece of writing advice a friend gave to me was: “If you look back on your old work and cringe, that means you’ve grown since then.” I guess the same can be applied to film.

It’s a good thing I gave you this letter in advance. If you had made me read this aloud, you would be regretting that decision right about now. And in that case, I would regret writing this letter in the first place. Thankfully, it’s the end of the letter where I say, “Thanks for your wonderful teaching,” blah, blah. “I’ll never forget this amazing class,” yadda, yadda. “For some reason, you’re the best teacher I’ve ever had,” and so forth.

Well, now this letter is too long, so I’m definitely going to print it out. Like I’m gonna handwrite all of this. Yeah, right. But seriously, there was a lot I had to write in this letter, and there’s probably more that I could say. However, as a wise mentor has said on various occasions: “A project is never truly finished. It just has a deadline.”

Thanks for everything, Your Favorite Student

P.S.

Seriously, I’m at least in your Top 15, right?