Shanae Hill

Shanae Hill was my government teacher during the greater part of my senior year of high school at South County. I personally was not looking forward to taking government. In all honesty, I was struggling with the idea of school altogether. I had found that assimilating again after such a long time at home was…to say the least, hard to do. Eleventh grade left me wondering if graduating was even worth it, whether or not my story would even matter. Going “back to normal” after so long made classes and life itself feel entirely surreal, and even worse, pointless. This mental spiral only seemed to grow with each passing year, only to be heightened by an increasingly turbulent home life. By twelfth grade, I was ready to go before the year had even begun. Which brings me to Ms. Hill. Ms. Hill was my government teacher. It seemed like a ridiculously pointless class. Who needs to know how Congress works unless you’re planning to become a representative? I certainly didn’t. I grew to dislike the class before the first week had started. Ms. Bill had rules, she made sure our phones were put away, she wouldn’t let me sleep on my desk. Worst of all, I had her for the first class of the day. As the year progressed, my home life grew more unsteady and my mental health became a pit. School became my last priority, my second to last being my personal and physical health. I stopped showing up before second semester had even started. Many teachers called it “senioritis”. Others had perhaps heard legend of my unfortunate attendance history and chalked it up to my lack of motivation or responsibility. The more I went to school the more I realized I was hardly even a number. I was a ghost. Class moved on whether I was there or not, and it seemed not even my teachers cared that I was there. Of course, my administrators noticed quickly what was happening, and sensing a repeat of my previous school year’s behavior, began to notice. A funny thing began to happen in January that seemed to have them confused, however. I began to show up for government. The class I had hated so much, the one I had skipped so often that I was behind three whole units suddenly became my favorite. Some would say it was a friend in the class, but the truth is, I went to government for Ms. Hill. The less I began to show up, the more she began to ask questions. She asked my friends, my counselor, even me where I had been. I gave excuses, therapy, sick, anything I could say to get out of it. And despite missing so much, she never turned her back on me or made me feel like I was just a number. Ms. Hill made time for me. I was able to come to her class early in the morning, before school had even begun to catch up on my work. Turns out she was at school every morning by 6:30, two hours before classes had started. She had worked as a teacher for longer than I had been reading, taught in Australia and with a number of different age groups and grades. She had a unique skill for captivating the class, even with senior students who were all growing tired of the same routine. Even the most boring subjects were mildly fun for us. Ms. Hill had clear expectations, unique assignments, and an incredibly organized classroom. She would make learning fun with small jokes, and her diverse teaching ability was something I never found myself to be disappointed with. She made eye contact with people, something I felt I hadn’t seen in a long time. She made each of our voices count, and made us feel like individuals as opposed to a collective class. But probably the best thing that Ms. Hill did for me personally came in mid-January. We were working on an assignment in her class when she came to my desk with a determined look in her eye. She told me something I had never heard from a teacher before, and it changed my life. “You are going to graduate.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t up to me. She had decided that this was what I was going to do. Whatever I needed to do, I was going to graduate. I never forgot those words. They stuck with me for the rest of that day, and into the next month. Even now I can remember her face as she told me in no uncertain terms that I would finish this year. Somehow it left me feeling less alone. I knew that there was one incredible teacher, one outstanding woman who believed in my success. If she knew I could do it, I could absolutely do it. I went to speak to my counselor that same day to find out my options. It was time to dig myself out of the hole I had fallen into. If not for me, for Ms. Hill. It took a lot of hard work, but in June I crossed the graduation stage and was handed a diploma by my principal. Even then, as I was crossing the stage onto the next stage of my life I could remember her words. You are going to graduate. I had done it. I had graduated. I had some pretty remarkable teachers throughout my time at South County. I grew and became a person that I can say that I’m proud to be. However, Ms. Hill was a teacher like no other. At a time in my life when I felt like nobody was watching, she recognized my needs as a student and as a person. Moreover, she made each and every student in our class feel like an individual. Our stories mattered. When I think of high school, I will always remember that classroom, our second period class, her PowerPoint presentation with the day’s agenda, and the bright smile on Ms. Hill’s face when she welcomed each of us to her class. I can think of no other teacher who worked that hard and continues to ensures student success the way she does. I will always be grateful to Ms. Hill for making my senior year truly unforgettable.

Dom Monette