er school, even when I understood the homework that day. And if I did understand the work I had to be ready to accept a “challenging one [problem] to take home.” Mr. Lemon never stopped challenging me to really use all my knowledge. “It’s up there somewhere, Michele,” he would say. Mr. Lemon was a fantastic teacher – amazingly smart, challenging, and always devoted to his students. But he was a teacher to me of more than math.
In my routine visits after school with him we would talk about family, sports, my basketball team, and other classes. He was like an extra parent, actually more like an older brother – a really older brother. I felt comfortable around Mr. Lemon to ask him advice or joke around with him. When I my weight lose became noticeable and it seemed that I forgot how to smile, he asked me what was going on. While most people were afraid to ask me, he confronted me with true concern. At first I was sort of shocked when he asked me. But he told me that we all have to confront problems in our lives, and realize the effect they have. At the time, I wasn’t ready to face the fact that I had a problem. But having someone like Mr. Lemon – some one so wise, so kind, so truthful – ask me about my weight lose and unhappiness, I began to really think about it. Maybe I did have a problem.
The next few months, as my parents began to monitor my eating habits, it became very stressful at home, and I think it showed. Mr. Lemon told me his door was always open if I needed to talk, or just get away for a few minutes. I was a perfect coincidence that my study hall and his free period were at the same time. Every once in a while I would go to his room, to talk, do work, or just to get away from the loud cafeteria study hall. As my depression got a little worse, there were days where I felt like I could burst into tears at any second. I would swallow hard and hold back the tears. But one day, a really bad day, during a study hall visit with Mr. Lemon, he asked me what was wrong, seeing that my eyes were swelling up in tears. I shrugged; I really didn’t know what was wrong. “You know, sometimes crying is the best thing. You can’t be afraid to cry. It’s not a sign of weakness, not at all.” As he said those words, tears rolled down my cheek.
The most important lesson Mr. Lemon taught in all of this was that you can not be afraid to ask for help and admit you need it. When my parents wanted me to go see a psychiatrist, I was very upset, at first. I felt incompetent that I couldn’t handle my own problems by myself. Mr. Lemon shared a story of his own with me, and told me that you can’t do it all on your own. Admitting that you need help is one of the most courageous things you can do. That is one of the most valuable lessons I have learned all my life. Help is out there, it’s up to you to reach out for it.
My relationship with Mr. Lemon continued to grow as I battled with anorexia. On the last day of school my junior year, as I was just starting to be treated for the disease, Mr. Lemon told me that he knew I was stronger and smarter than the disease, and he was positive that I would beat. Over that summer, I saw him a few times, but didn’t stay in close contact with him. Senior year, I returned to school with gained weigh and a new attitude. I took Mr. Lemon’s AP Calculus course, which was even more challenging than the last course. I didn’t visit Mr. Lemon quite as m
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