As you know, I graduated a few weeks ago and am moving to the big city in two weeks. I have decided to write a few letters to the most important people in my life. After all, I would not have been able to get to this point in my life without the help of my mentors, friends, and family. I first want to thank you for attending my graduation party and for the graduation gift. This letter is not merely a thank-you note, however. I am really writing you to thank you for everything you have helped me accomplish throughout my life. I am writing you to express my gratitude for our ongoing relationship. You have been a constant beam of support for me for as long as I can remember, and I could not be more appreciative for everything that you have done for me over the years.
Hundreds of memories from your home come to mind when I look back on my childhood. My mind flashes immediately to all of the Christmas Eve dinners and how they have continued to evolve over the years. The excitement of opening presents from my younger days has been redirected over the last few years and is now more focused on the art of conversation and the beauty of spending time with family. Thank you so much for hosting these events. In a funny way, your home has become a sort of “home away from home”. I am sure that these family gatherings will feel even more welcoming in the coming years as I return from Chicago for the holidays and I look forward to many more Christmases in Nashville as the years continue to pass.
Of course other memories come to mind as well. I can think of all of the time spent playing with blocks and motorcycles in my younger days. I can think of the Easter Egg hunts. I can think of the birthday parties. I can think of the weddings. I can think of the stories you have told over the years. Regardless of the event, you have always remained such a positive role model for me. You are truly the most positive and optimistic person I know. You and your ceaseless optimism will remain in the front of my mind as I tackle the challenges of a first-year teacher next year.
I wish you the best in the coming years and look forward to seeing you soon.
Love always,
Kyle Meacham
I’ve decided to write you a letter to express my gratitude. I have written a lot of letters over the last few weeks to the most important people in my life. In addition to saying thanks, each of these letters has contained a list of memories. For your letter, I ran into some difficulty. It turns out that we probably have ten times as many memories as anyone else that I know. For this reason, I am going to thank you for one memory for each letter of the alphabet (it was even difficult to limit myself to this list, so many other memories flooded into my head when writing this). Here we go.
A (Arnholt): As in Jessica. As in a banana. As in the most awkward moment of my life.
B (Bad Mood Moody): As in one of my favorite classes of all time. As in Alex slamming Hawaiian Punch and throwing up. As in Bippity Bippity Bop. As in ripped pants. As in your crush on Korn. As in Fardin. As in Kye Borowski. As in Mike Regan.
C (Curry): As in my sophomore dorm. As in Jen-Bunny. As in throwing keys. As in the failed joint and Bryan’s panic. As in the futon. As in drinking at 5 AM. As in being tall and looking down. As in the greatest photo of us of all time on the lawn. As in hunch punch on the lawn.
D (Dragon Park): As in the snow day. As in wrestling. As in Gandhi.
E (Edwards, Keith): As in Ballin’.
F (Flood): As in Crockett Park. As in mud. As in the randomness of raindrops on your forehead.
G (Gary and Eve): As in the awesome parents who allowed us to have a party last summer, leading to you feeding Jordan carrots and my mom calling at 3 AM. As in helping you and your mom decorate your room in Branscomb.
H(Halloween): As in Skeeter and Juno. As in Saunders. As in spiking the punch bowl with a handle of New Amsterdam. As in meeting up at Sigma Chi for five seconds. As in waking up and throwing on my jump suit.
I (Ice Cream): As in the ice cream you got me on my birthday. As in post break-up Maggie Moos.
K (Kiss cam): As in the basketball game.
M(Malibu): As a catch all for Ham-towns over the years. As in those few awesome nights drinking in Stambaugh. As in house sitting and falling in love with Mac Malone.
N (Nugging): As in vandalism. As in a broken zipper. As in Kye Borowski (second mention).
P (Pei Wei): As in fortune cookies.
Q (Queasy): As in you and Caroline’s dry heaving ridiculousness on that night in Stambaugh and the first time I met Camden. As in your feeling on Halloween as Juno in the trees by Towers, pregnant belly still intact.
S (School Bus): As in the first time I noticed you. As in middle school days. As in the days when Evan had bleached hair and a nipple ring.
T (Terry): As in the ratty but endearing Steak ‘n Shake server. As in Steak ‘n Shake in general and all of the memories spent there. As in spitballs with Matt Cooper. As in Terry’s friend referring to you as “his girl”. As in the secret handshake created in the parking lot.
U (Undergrad): As a catch all for all of the other memories over the last two years. As in being able to attend the same university.
V (Volleyball): As in Sean Robinson. As in Dollar Tree. As in Paige Katchur. As in dance parties. As in slow twerking. As in Phone Home. As in Pokémon Theme Song. As in Meg Prentice in all of her greatness. As in nicknames and offensive whiteboard comments. As in truth and dare and all of the associated memories. As in peanut butter and a ridiculous freak-out. As in cream cheese. As in State Champs.
W (Wreck): As in the bowling alley parking lot.
Y (Yeah Atul!): As in Yeah Atul!
Z (ZBT): As in Caroline Sessoms bringing her own water bottle and an encounter that led to an entire freshman year of memories.
Yes, there have been a lot of memories over the years. I’m sure that there are three memories for every one that I have mentioned here. I’m sure that by the time you receive this, I will remember 25 other memories and I will want to add them to the end. Again, I wanted to write you this letter to thank you for everything. Thanks for always being there for me. You are truly my best friend and easily one of the most influential people in my life. I look forward to adding to this list over the coming years. Please come visit me in Chicago next year!
Your best friend,
Kyle Meacham
Hey you! I hope everything is going well and that you are not working too much and that you are enjoying the little things in life. As you know, I graduated last weekend and am moving to Chicago in two weeks. It’s a time of change and uncertainty, for sure, but I am more than looking forward to a fresh start in a big city. Before moving, I have decided to take some time to write a few letters to the most important individuals in my life. After all, I would not be where I am today without the support my best friends, family, and teachers have given me over the years. It was easy to include you on this list of individuals, of course. You have been my best friend for eight years now and, as you always have said, we are getting married one day.
I remember meeting you for the first time in ninth grade geography. We reminisce on those days frequently, I know, but it was a truly ephemeral moment. Our connection was immediate. Despite your awesomeness, your attractiveness, your higher social standing, you took time out to interact with my lanky, goofy, unconfident self. I learned quickly that year that you were a bit different from anyone else in my life. It also became immediately apparent that you were a stronger individual than anyone I had ever met. To this day I have not met a single individual that is as genuine and as comfortable in their own skin as you are. Talking about sex with Evan’s grandparents on his back porch? Why not. Rolling my house despite the Beware of Mom signs? Of course. Fighting intensely with me at the lunch table in high school? Duh. Since we first met, you have never sacrificed a single piece of yourself for me or anyone else. You have remained yourself, the most awesome and unique friend I have. In my opinion this is the true sign of an unyielding, demanding, and truly content spirit. And it is this spirit that makes you such a beautiful young woman.
You have always offered me such great advice in some of my toughest times. So many sushi dates, nights on the town, and late night conversations come to mind. You have been such a great constant in my life over the years as I have grown up. It seems that you always have my best interest in your heart. I cannot thank you enough for this. Of course I have always wanted the best for you as well; this is why I can never seem to embrace any of your boyfriends. But this is a different story..
As you go forward in life I hope that you never change. Sure new individuals will come into your life; new experiences will present themselves. Throughout all of these challenges, I never want you to lose your faith in God nor your faith in yourself. As we know I have had my struggles in this camp throughout the years. You have always represented a shining example for me through your constant support. I am truly happy when I am with you and I look forward to seeing you in the years to come. Please come visit me in Chicago! My kids will love to meet you, I am sure of that.
Your best friend,
Kyle Meacham
To walk, alone again.
Searching aimlessly for long legs, a broken necklace, an embrace.
The way the grass conceals itself underneath my back.
I itch for another drug-induced night.
A list of thank-you’s:
1) Thanks for being a good roommate and a good friend. You always cleaned stuff sufficiently and paid all of the bills on time. This past year was fun.
2) Thanks for being there for me over the last three years. I trust you more than anyone else I know.
3) Thanks for introducing me to new music and movies over the years.
4) Thanks for always being willing to give me advice. Sometimes it was good advice.
5) Sorry for making fun of Game of Thrones (am I though?).
Most of these letters I am writing are to people that I won’t see much anymore. And most of the letters I have been writing have been really long. But I plan on seeing you a lot as the years go by. So I’m going to keep this short. Plus it is weird to write to someone that you live with. Especially when the letter is on their paper. But you have been a very influential individual in my life, and I appreciate everything.
Good luck as you go forth in Dallas. Keep me posted on the girls you meet. Also, never stop keeping an eye out for Anna Scouten.
Your friend and fellow Slytherin,
Kyle Meacham
Oregon! Oh Oregon! I hear that there are vampires!
Wait, dafuk was that? Let me try this again.
Hello again. I hope your summer is going well and that your new serving thingie is better than your old one. I miss you!
Hold on, no no. I can’t interject “thingies” like that so early in the letter. Save sentiment for the end! Again…
Nothing is better
Than a quick, thoughtful haiku
To start a letter.
How could I forget the golden rule? When other things fail, including exclamation points and rapid sentimentality, just start a letter with a haiku. It is really that simple. Phew. Now that that is out of the way, let me tell you why I am writing you. I think I have told you about this project. I am taking the next couple weeks out of my life to write letters to the most influential people in my life. Many are family members, others are teachers, still others are old elementary school friends. I believe there are sixteen in all. You may be surprised to be included on this list; after all, I have only known you for five months! You are indeed the shortest tenured individual on my list of important people by about three years. But I felt that the impact you have had on my life in this short time has been profound and truly impossible to overlook. This letter will look a bit different than the other letters as well, being that telling you thanks is a totally different animal than telling an old teacher thanks. This is because I actually like you more than those old hags, sure, but also because writing you is like writing myself, in a weird way. Maybe you understand this… Gawd babbling idiot, start the letter!
I hated that job. I know you did too. I quit in October and came back in December. Try quitting J Alexander’s, throwing away the aprons and ties, kicking your feet up, and drinking a glass of Dave’s favorite tannic Cabernet while you throw smelly darts at the face of restaurant society. And then try, after all of those great, smelly memories, to strap the tie back on and go back? Apparently those two thousand dollars I had saved goes faster than I had planned, and that making it rain is something that I cannot do on Wednesday nights while unemployed (or, now that I think about it, ever). Yes, I went back, and there were not even any hostis I was interested in at that time…FML
And then I met you. I remember from our first shift together, I found you to be the most hilarious person I had ever met. You were asked what brand of tea we served in the restaurant and proceeded to make up some ridiculous bullshit name on the spot, which the guests totally did not buy for a second. I geeked, literally. Had someone else done that, I would probably have dismissed it. But something about your attitude, your aura, your wittiness, it stuck immediately. I geeked a grand total of five times at that restaurant, through the thick and thin, and each of those times you were involved directly.
For some reason you actually understood my sense of humor. In a matter of no time we were friends. The first time I asked you to get drinks with me after work you did not even hesitate, and a few beers at Jackson’s turned into hours of conversation. I immediately felt comfortable talking to you about my failed relationships, my family, and my friends who never ceased to annoy me. You talked about your faith, your incredible engagement, and your passion for music. I quickly realized that there was something to be found in your undying optimism. Your attitude turned my life around to an extent that I’m not sure you fully understand.
You see, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, so they say. And life had given me plenty of lemons over the years. The problem for me had always been that I was not too sold on the art of making lemonade. After all, making lemonade is not very exciting. You just squeeze the lemons and add sugar. I mean come on. I would easily rather sit around and play Pokemon than cash in on the citrus-squeezing trade. For the last four years, I have become increasingly aware that I cannot live my life making lemonade. I have to try something different. The problem in that approach was that I came from a place where making lemonade was the only path that had been taken. And for someone who wanted to go into art or music or film or education or local government, it was a delicate perception of lemon-squeezing I had to go about changing. Because of societal pressure, I found myself depressed, I found myself becoming more and more of a cynic, I found myself obtrusively pessimistic and sad. And then you came out of nowhere, in a beam of light, riding large turtles through the waves of my oblivion. And then you smiled, or looked befuddled as you so often do, or you laughed for too long after drinking one (half?) beer, or had your raptor claw up, or you were dancing in your Dansko’s, or something, and something clicked. I knew that I could not be sad any more. I knew that there was a God up there somewhere because, if there were not, there is no way anyone could be so happy all of the time, so willing to have fun, so positive. And you always thought that my aspirations were interesting, exciting, and acceptable. It was literally a breath of fresh air.
I want you to know that you came and found me at a bad time. I do not even want to relive many of those days in this letter because they are no longer here. In four months you have flipped me sufficiently, and now I am ready for my next challenge in a new city. I loved hearing your advice about my failed relationship attempts and I plan on staying in touch over the years in that regard (not all of us are engaged, after all). I loved hearing you play and I will certainly be pushing that EP in front of my coworkers and new friends next year. You are a beautifully talented musician and you have the stage presence to match it. Your words in between songs are absolutely adorable. I really wish you the best as you tackle the life of a musician. I have full faith that your music will touch the lives of many in the coming years.
I am so happy to know that you will be in Nashville in the years to come. This will always be a home base for me and I am sure that I will see you when I return home in the coming years. Have a great summer and congratulations on the wedding! I can’t wait to see pictures. Also please let me know when any and all of your shows are. I would not miss one for the life of me. Please leave your glass rack at home.
KETTLE CORN??
Kyle Meacham
PS- You are literally the best.
I will apologize up front for interrupting your sure to be busy days of Billy Jack watching. I have decided to take a few weeks out after my graduation to write letters of gratitude to some of the most influential individuals in my 21-year life. You see, you can only move forward in life with the help of other individuals. Ferdinand needed Isabella, Brache needed his midget. I am writing letters to the sidekicks of my life, including family members, elementary school friends, and other various individuals who have helped shape me into what I am today. I have decided to write you for several reasons, but mainly because your AP European History class (if it is even fair to call it a class, it always seemed more of a localized cultural phenomenon of sorts) remains my favorite class of all time. This is even more remarkable as history is nowhere near the top of my list of favorite subjects.
Since taking your class in 2006, I have taken a lot of other classes. I have taken a lot of other awesome classes for that matter. I have probably taken five more history classes. In these classes, I have encountered a lot of other educators. To this day, you remain the most impassioned and relatable teacher I have ever met. Your lectures were always funny and interactive and it seemed that there was always another joke coming around the bend. At the same time, you always allowed for interaction from your students. You always seemed to effortlessly intertwine popular culture into your lectures, regardless as to how much sense the reference actually made. With all of this being said, you never failed to demand the very best effort out of each of us academically. You turned all of us into better writers and better readers. For many of my friends, you quickly became more of a friend than a teacher, and my junior and senior years were spent not only reflecting on memories from my own AP European History class, but also actively participating in my favorite lectures time and time again.
For the next few years I have decided to do Teach For America in Chicago. I will be teaching high school calculus. The process that led me to this teaching position is an interesting one. The first time I thought about teaching was in your class. I could not help but think that you always seemed fully satisfied with your job. You always seemed happy. You always seemed more than willing to tackle the growing AP Euro demand and, if I remember correctly, you ended up teaching six classes of 25 students in our year. I am not sure whether the thought came on during the Polyphonic Spree pencil presenting ceremony, while contemplating the Mean Girls poster directly behind your desk, or during some other time, but your class was my first indication that not all high school teachers were old and boring and that a career I had largely overlooked could be right for me down the road.
About this time last year, when trying to determine where to take my life, I reflected on those days spent in your classroom. I realized that I would be happier teaching high school students than doing anything else at this juncture of my life. With many of my friends pursuing jobs on Wall Street or prestigious law school scholarships, my choice was one that was interesting and slightly controversial. While I do not know if I will stay in teaching in a classroom for my entire life, I do know that you inspired me to stay active in education for my entire life. What better job is there than being around kids all day, wearing Chacos, and going to concerts during the summer? Kidding (sort of). But in all seriousness, I know you are aware of the significant impact possible during those four years of a young adult’s life. I know this first hand because of the significant impact you had on my life in those last three years of high school. I know that I emerged a different individual after my interactions in your classroom in those three years. It is due to this potential transforming capacity that I have decided to become a teacher.
I hope all is well. And that you are still just as incapable of muting the soundtrack on Warriors on each and every ‘shit’. And please, for the love of God, never give out worksheets.
Best Wishes,
Kyle Meacham
I hope that things are going well at Brentwood High and that you are not too boggled by my little brother’s ridiculousness on a day-to-day basis. I am pleased to inform you that I graduated from Vanderbilt last week, majoring in mathematics, economics, and philosophy. I have decided to take a few weeks to write letters to the most influential people from the first twenty years of my life. It was a no-brainer to include you in this list for several reasons. For one, I would like to thank you for writing my college recommendation letters. For another I would like to thank you for your tremendous attitude. I would also like to thank you for your awesome taste in suspenders.
While each of these is important, none comes close to the main reason why I am writing you this letter. With this letter, I would like to thank you for being the best coach I have had in my life. In thinking through all of the basketball, tennis, baseball, soccer, and other various academic coaches over the years, I cannot find an individual that comes close to meaning as much to me as you did. A few moments come to mind immediately when I reminisce on those two years when I played varsity. The first was my very first game as a sophomore, when I took the court as a starting center (what??) against Beech in a thirty-point loss in our opening game. The faith you had in my 6’5, 150-pound, gangly frame on that day was the first indication that there was someone other than my parents who thought that I had a chance in basketball. The second is a certain well-executed inbounds play my sophomore year when I was able to tip the ball to a cutting Chris Tedder for a layup at the halftime buzzer. That play had been rehearsed a million times in practice and I still remember the look on your face when we were actually able to execute it in the game. A third existed my junior year when we got beat by Page, your former school, by two points. The practice after that remains the biggest ball-buster of my entire life. I remember you putting an hour on the clock and us doing sprints and lunges with no break for the entire duration, before practice started. I also remember you calling “Detroit” for me for the first time in the district tournament against Franklin, a game where I scored a career high 21 points (also a game where I got dunked on by Derek Batt…)
Each of these is dwarfed by the most important memory from those years, however. I most remember the banquet after my junior season when you presented me with the Most Improved Player award. I had never won an award in my life and upon hearing the name Kyle was certain you were presenting the award to Kyle Teichmann. I was shocked. While most of the photos, posters, and other assorted documents from my high school days have found their way into various boxes and drawers, that award is the only artifact that is still hanging on my wall. It is living proof that with the right support, I was able to achieve something that I was never expected to achieve.
In writing this, I wanted to thank you for believing in me. Despite my potential, I was always that awkward shy kid who could not handle the ball against the press, who would shoot airballs in his opening game against his middle school rival, and who would not quite fit in with the other kids on the team. On your team, however, I found a spot. I really used that time to find out a lot about myself. As you know full well, I decided to quit the basketball team my senior year after you stepped down as head coach. That remains the hardest decision I have ever made in my life, and I know there were several people I let down. I wanted to let you know that it was in those first days under a new coach that I realized that what you had helped me become was not a great basketball player. Sure I could have excelled that senior season and may have even been able to continue to play at the collegiate level. But that did not matter. What you taught me was to have confidence in whatever I was good at. And I realized in those first few days that I was a stronger student than basketball player. I realized that I was a different individual than the one that entered your office my sophomore year to discuss my role as a JV player. I grew up under your tenure. I became confident in my own ability to make decisions for myself. And as I approach the ever-changing world as a college graduate, I very much appreciate what I learned in those two years as your player. I will always appreciate that confidence you instilled in me.
For the next few years I have decided to teach calculus to the underprivileged youth of Gary, Indiana through the Teach For America program. I will be helping out with the basketball team as well. You bet I will be putting in that “tap” full court inbounds play. And you bet I will bust those kids’ balls when they underachieve. But most of all I hope, as you always did, to instill a level of confidence in my students that I know they are capable of.
Thank you again. I hope that you are able to return to coaching in the years to come. You must miss it tremendously.
Yours truly,
Kyle Meacham
Oh a night of old friends and balmorhea on vinyl. And cold lasagna. A great night. And yet I miss you.
Digging through my drawers this past week, I stumbled across an old photograph from the Tennessean of you walking your dog in Nashville with a huge smile. At the time this photograph was published, I remember finding this to be extremely funny. How could a man that “refused” to learn our names for nine weeks, a man that we saw speeding out of the parking lot each afternoon, actually exist outside of the school building? But there you were, happy as ever, walking a dog?
This photo was published my junior year of high school. At the time of its publication, I was struggling to conceptualize the differentiation process, probably because I was still struggling to understand limits. I probably had around a 75 in your class, the first C of my entire life, despite the amount of time I was putting in studying each and every night. I remember how challenging you made that course and how the class size went from thirty students to fifteen in two weeks. I remember getting a 50 on my first exam, an exam that was probably five times as hard as I was expecting after studying for an entire week. In the meantime, my parents were probably worried that I would not get into Vanderbilt with a C on my transcript. To this day, I had never struggled in a course like I did in that one.
In hindsight, and with all of this being said, I could not be more appreciative of what that class taught me. I remember how easy those AP tests seemed after putting in the immense effort throughout the year. While mathematics had always been one of my strengths, your class was successful in turning it into a passion. As you know, when you work that hard at something, it becomes that much more enjoyable. Last week, I graduated from Vanderbilt with a triple-major in mathematics, economics, and philosophy. I have decided to take a few weeks out and write letters to some of the individuals who helped me get to where I am today. Your AB calculus class (as well as the BC class the following year) not only set me up for success in mathematics, but also provided me with a persevering attitude that would prove incredibly important in the years to come. You taught each of us that getting a good education was not about the grade on your report card, but about the effort taken to interact with the material. With the tools you provided me, I was able to breeze through my math classes at Vanderbilt (with one exception: error-breaking codes and cryptography).
I find that I have more memories of your class than of any other that I have taken over the years. My friends and I (Bryan McGee, Nolan Young, and others) still reminisce on your quotes on a consistent basis. Our favorites include, “it’s like rearranging the deck chairs”, “if you cannot figure it out, just magic wand it”, and “a torus, ladies and gentlemen”. I can still hear your commentary to All Quiet On the Western Front (and here are the ones, ladies and gentlemen, getting mowed by the machine guns, the twos, unable to escape from the barbed wire…) and still remember your response to Shutian when he decided to do a crossword puzzle instead of opening his BC review book (passing out a fake New York Times article quoting this year’s AP exam as the hardest ever). Your teaching style was at times frightening, at times ridiculously humorous, and always original. For all of these reasons, you remain one of my favorite educators with whom I have had the pleasure of interacting.
Next year I have accepted a teaching position at a charter school in Gary, Indiana through the Teach for America program. Your class inspired me to take the next few years out to teach mathematics. I will be teaching, you guessed it, AP calculus and statistics to juniors and seniors. I could not be more excited. Though I’m not sure my students will respond to all of your class’s quirks as we did, I certainly plan on implementing many of your teaching philosophies. For one, I will be removing the white boards and requesting black chalkboards. For another, I plan on demanding the best out of my hardest-working students by challenging them continuously in order to produce long-term results. As you wrote my recommendation to Vanderbilt, I also plan on helping many of my students get into their respective colleges. I plan on getting my kids excited about mathematics through their hard work. Each of these skills I picked up while struggling my way through two years of your calculus courses.
I hope that this letter finds you well and that you have a fantastic summer holiday. I also hope that our paths cross again. Thank you again.
With the greatest respect,
Kyle Meacham
PS- I remember you saying briefly that Rothko was your favorite artist. It is bizarre how things like that stick with you. I will say that last summer I spent hours writing and reflecting in the Rothko room at the Tate Modern in London. I am pleased to say that, after studying that group of haunting masterpieces commissioned for the Four Seasons Restaraunt in New York, Rothko has become my favorite artist as well. His work is truly riveting and seems to capture so well a level of primordial sadness of which we are all so familiar.
I hope this letter finds you well as yet another school year comes to a close. It has been nearly four years since I last saw you in the Nashville airport upon our return from Rome. Just as I was at that time, I find myself at a crossroads in my life. Last week I graduated from Vanderbilt, completing a triple-major in mathematics, economics, and philosophy. I received highest honors on a crossover thesis in film philosophy on the role of “Foucaultian, knowledge-producing” surveillance in Francois Truffaut’s early film. Next year I will be teaching calculus to the youth of Gary, Indiana through the Teach for America program. As to what comes after that, I find myself increasingly incapable of providing an answer.
There are still three weeks before I make the trek to the great city of Chicago and I have decided to take some time out to write letters to the most influential people from the last twenty years of my life. I have decided to write one to you for several reasons. I wanted to thank you again for taking my group of friends to Europe after our high school graduation. I am so thankful that you were able to see past our ridiculous desire to hacky-sack our way through the Alps. Despite the fact that I find myself increasingly out of touch with many of the individuals from that group, that trip has meant so much to me as the years have trickled by. That trip means more to me now than it did in that airport, for sure. That trip kick-started my now vehement passion in art. It also catalyzed my ever-growing passion in the wine industry. Most of all, however, it was a vital step in learning to respect other cultures, many of which do not exist in the same conditions as our own. As G.K. Chesterton wrote in his (remarkable) book What I Saw In America, “We have never even begun to understand a people until we have found something that we do not understand. So long as we find the character easy to read, we are reading into it our own character.” This fact has never been more apparent to me as it is now. The respect I gained from getting out of the “Brentwood Bubble” on that trip to Italy is largely responsible for my choice to teach the underprivileged children of a deserted Indiana steel town next year. It is also responsible for my desire to continue to travel, to learn, and to grow.
I would also like to thank you for your History of Ideas class. That class launched my interest in philosophy. I can’t help but think of Augustine’s Confessions when I seek to answer modern questions of religious equality. I can’t help but think of Kierkegaard when I ask myself how to remain faithful in a higher purpose in a world increasingly dominated by the individual. And I can’t help but think of Descartes when I address my doubt and skepticism in many of the concepts that continue to find a hold in our society. That philosophical foundation you gave me through your History of Ideas class gave me a leg up in many of my introductory philosophy courses as Vanderbilt. It also provided a broader framework for thought than the public school literary cannon was able to provide. As you know full well, most of the other social sciences were created as offshoots from the study of philosophy, including sociology, psychology, and political science. That class taught me that an educated, responsible background in philosophy is needed in order to tackle the ongoing and ever-changing problems that our world undergoes, regardless of the field. I thank you again for introducing our class of twenty seniors to some of the most prominent thinkers of all time.
For me, the mark left by a true educator can only be identified in hindsight. Sure, you were constantly challenging us to perform on the National Spanish Exams. You were always pushing us to think outside the box with our writing. There were certainly times when your thoughts and mine did not quite line up. But these short-term occurrences were dwarfed by their long-term effects. I have probably forgotten over the years many of the imperfect conjugations and many of the quotes that I turned in on my final History of Ideas project. I have not, however, forgot the life skills that I picked up in your classroom. You taught me to think. You taught me not to be afraid to challenge the opinions of my superiors. You taught me the importance of multiculturalism through language, art, and culture. These skills will not only greatly benefit me as I enter the classroom next year, attempting to figure out how to teach high school students, but also as I go forward in life as an adult citizen of this country.
Again, thank you for everything. I hope all is well with your family and that you are still traveling. You will be in my thoughts as the years continue to roll by.
Sincerely,
Kyle Meacham
I hope all is well in Brooklyn and that you are not too bogged down by “clerical” work as another school year comes to a close. I have watched from afar as Nick Swisher continues to gun down runners from right field and it seems that, yet again, the Yankees will be in contention in October. Things have completely wound down here at Vanderbilt and, after receiving my diploma, I have decided to take some time out to write a few letters of gratification. You might be surprised to receive a thank you letter from a student who was only able to take one of your classes in your time at Vanderbilt. I, on the other hand, am keen on pointing out that your Philosophy of Film class remains the most interesting and influential that I have had in my time at this university.
It has been awhile since those windowless meetings in the basement of Buttrick Hall back in 2009. I can still remember leaving that dungeon each Tuesday at 2:25 with my head spinning. I would usually resort to calling my girlfriend and ranting about a Walter Benjamin quotation only to realize that I did not know enough about historicism or Dziga Vertov to carry the conversation past my initial excitement. This befuddling frustration would usually carry me to the Thursday class, after which the entire process would usually repeat itself. That class was largely responsible for turning my philosophical curiosity into a passion. It was also my first encounter with “aesthetics”, an interest that has continued to grow over the last three years.
I remember on the first day of class you said that you “felt you could teach an entire class about surveillance film, if you were given the opportunity.” I had no idea what that meant, but it stuck with me. Last week I received highest honors from the philosophy department for my senior thesis on the role of Panoptic surveillance in Francois Truffaut’s work. This idea was sparked initially in your class by my exposure to Jean-Luc Godard. The vision of the New Wave has come to dominate the way I see the world ever since I saw Godard’s incredibly frightening shot of Anna Karina during the Oval Portrait reading.
For the next two years I am taking a detour in my life that I feel is necessary. I will be teaching calculus to the youth of Gary, Indiana through the Teach For America program. Although there is not too much crossover between differentiation and The Searchers, I do plan on implementing a few skills that I picked up in that Philosophy of Film class. You always seemed to implement my input into your lecture each time I spoke, regardless as to what extent of a babbling idiot I must have sounded. You also seemed to go out of your way to read and interact with my writing on each of my weekly submissions. Your lesson plans were always very well constructed and your teaching style was challenging and yet accessible. Each of these skills will provide me a valuable reference as I tackle the trials of a first year teacher this fall.
As I mentioned previously, that class remains my favorite in my time at Vanderbilt. I wish you the best in your future endeavors. I hope to enter the philosophical community one of these days, and hopefully we can cross paths again. I would love to learn a bit more about your thoughts on the surveillance, “knowledge-producing” environment by which we are increasingly engulfed. Or just more about Juno’s stomach bulge.
Best Wishes,
Kyle Meacham
