Thanking the teacher who believed in me first

Published 4:39 pm Thursday, July 24, 2025

I attended Thomasville City Schools’ convocation on Monday morning. As I entered the gymnasium, I knew the speech from Dublin Superintendent Dr. Fred Williams wasn’t for me. It was for the teachers and staff who serve students daily.

However, as he asked the teachers to take a moment to reflect on the teachers who inspired their lives, I couldn’t help but partake in the exercise.

I would not be in this career, nor would I be a writer without the guidance and support of Irmgard Schopen-Davis.

Mrs. Schopen-Davis was my 11th-grade AC English teacher and 12th-grade AP English literature teacher. But, if we are being honest, she was more than that.

In my sophomore year, I went through a rough patch. My cousin moved in with us after her dad was taken to Shepherd’s Spinal Clinic in Atlanta. We were all adjusting to a new way of life and the reality that my uncle would never be the same.

During that time, my school work, specifically my Composition homework, slipped through the cracks. I was trying to go on with my life normally, but it felt like every day was a new challenge. My uncle would be suffering from an infection, so someone would travel there, or I would need to pick my cousin up from school or go support her at her tennis matches so she wouldn’t feel alone. I couldn’t keep up, and to be honest, I don’t know if I wanted to.

My teacher made me hate reading. She would assign 5-6 chapters a night, on top of all our other classes. I couldn’t do it, and she didn’t really care what was going on in my personal life. It got to a point where I was failing the class.

Instead of asking what was wrong, she looked me in the eye and said, “You show no promise. You will never be a writer.”

I remember my lip quivering, before I burst into tears in my Gran-Gran’s car that afternoon.

However, at that same time, it was time to register for the following year’s classes. I knew I wanted to be in AC English.

But my composition teacher said, “No.”

I don’t blame her for saying no, as my grades didn’t truly indicate what I was capable of, but I was desperate to prove her wrong.

I had my parents sign a waiver, stating they understood I was turned down for the class, but still wished to register. My teacher just shook her head and said, “Don’t come crying to me when you can’t handle it.”

I was accepted into the class and began my journey with Mrs. Schopen-Davis.

Our class was small, maybe 10 students, and Mrs. Schopen-Davis had us each keep a journal.

She promised that only she would see it and gave us prompts that really made us take a look in the mirror. I always looked forward to her replies, because for the first time, someone knew the real me. She saw my struggles and not the face I put on at school. She was a therapist and teacher all wrapped in one.

I figured by my senior year, she had forgotten all about my struggles and self-image issues until the week of Homecoming.

I was announced as one of our Homecoming Court representatives, and I’ll never forget later that day in class, as she passed out results from our quiz, she had written a letter on mine, saying she hoped my selection to be on Homecoming Court made me realize just how special I really was.

My representation on the Court did make me realize that, but Mrs. Schopen-Davis made me realize that first, and for that I’m forever grateful.