Sharon Jaffe was my third English teacher in the United States. I took her class in spring 1998. She is not tall but she has a figure of perfect elegance.  She has abundant, brown hair, so glossy that it gleamed with sunshine and a face, which, besides being beautiful from the regularity of features and richness of complexion, had the impressiveness belonging to a marked brow and deep brown eyes. She was lady-like, too.
        I had never learned how to write an essay before. I remember that the first essay we had to write in class was to portray classmates. I didn’t know how to do that and I was very sad. She said to me, “Guangyu, just write whatever you think about any of your classmates, and do whatever you want. Feel free to write it.” Then I saw that one of a Japanese men sitting next to me was using a lot of adjectives to write a satire about me. I was so mad that I forgot my manners and used my own writing to get back at him. The next day, Sharon read both of the essays to the class. The whole class couldn’t stop laughing. I began my writing with eagerness. I saw a new world opening up for me in beauty and in light. I felt that I could write something in English now and I saw people liked it. Especially, I saw Sharon’s face beaming with satisfaction. I know that was the great encouragement for me to be free through writing the words in my mind. After that I was not afraid of my English writing and I was trying to learn as much English vocabulary as possible, I knew the more vocabulary I learned, the more beautiful sentences I could write. In Sharon’s ESL 11A class, I had written a lot. She often read my essay to the class, and I became able to write sentences quite naturally. My friends were amazed at the richness of my vocabulary. In that semester, I learned a lot, the scenes, manners, joy and sadness of that world would help me understand the real world around me. The class seemed to be filled with the spirit of the great and the wise, and Sharon seemed to be filled with wisdom.
        Now I am taking Sharon’s class again. I am in 21 B. The first essay she returned back to me, I saw a warm note on my paper, “Welcome back to my class.” I felt so touched. I felt as if I had come back home. She has never changed. But I have changed. My parents passed way and I have been ill and depressed for a long time and I lost vitality. Nothing could inflame my desire and enthusiasm. For the first few weeks, I felt as if I were in a lake surrounded by stones – of complete loneliness, detachment and emptiness. At that time no language could help me escape my astonishment and my absent-mindedness.
        The first a few week, I didn’t know how to write essays any longer. I totally lost my writing style. I tried to drop the class and tried to give up my writing. I sent many Emails to Sharon. I know my emails were filled sadness. Sharon wrote me and email back which said, “Your deep sadness brings forth beautiful and memorable lines of poetic thought, Guangyu. Poetry doesn't come from happiness. That's not a consolation, but it seems a fact. Keep expressing the dark hours and gradually that act of writing may lead to black becoming shades and shades of light gray.”  She told me to keep writing and she believed that my writing style would come back. I started writing again. I worked so hard then I feel my writing style is coming back. One day I saw that Sharon had put a note on one of my essays: “Guangyu, You are a natural writer. In your writing here, you have returned to your old essay style of writing essays.” When I read her short note. I totally released.
        I know there is no easy way to write, and I must climb that road in the best way I can. I slip back many times, I fall, I stand. I suddenly run against hidden difficulties. I lose my temper, find it again and keep it under control. I walk on, climb high and begin to see the wide horizon. I know I am not always alone, however, in these struggles, Sharon always helped me. I wish I could stay in her class forever and never graduated from her class.