“He was kind to me, but I had no sense that he took particular notice of me. There were other, smarter kids in the class, and soon I fell back into my usual position—of thinking I was just a little over average in most things. But near the end of the semester, we read Macbeth. Believe me, this is not an easy play to connect to the lives of suburban high schoolers, but somehow he made the play seem electric, dangerous, relevant. After procrastinating till the night before it was due, I wrote a paper about the play—the first paper I typed on a typewriter—and turned it in the next day.
        I got a good grade on it, and below the grade Mr. Criche wrote, ‘Sure hope you become a writer.’ That was it. Just those six words, written in his signature handwriting—a bit shaky, but with a very steady baseline. It was the first time he or anyone had indicated in any way that writing was a career option for me. We’d never had any writers in our family line, and we didn’t know any writers personally, even distantly, so writing for a living didn’t seem something available to me. But then, just like that, it was as if he’d ripped off the ceiling and shown me the sky.”

—Dave Eggers, “Remembering an Inspiring Teacher,” Salon, August 1, 2011.