Spotlight: Becky Thomas King

Becky Thomas King

My career as a teacher and writer has been filled with students at every stage of their personal journeys. Some knew exactly where they were headed and others afforded me the privilege to assist in their searches.

Today's student spotlight fits the first category. Becky Thomas King was a writer before I ever knew her and her career trajectory was clear. She would not only be a personally committed, award-winning writer, but her passion would surround the many students she would connect with in her role as high school English teacher and adviser.

She was a student for two years in my Advanced Creative Writing class and one of the requirements for those students was to edit and produce a cumulative anthology of their work. She entitled hers, "Happy Are Those Who Write" and it has always sat among my personal chapbooks and writing books wherever I have called home since she completed it in 1995.

I pulled it out last night, wanting to reconnect with who I have been in my life, and those from whom I have learned as I face imminent life changes. I hope Becky realizes even though my title was teacher, in our classroom, she and others taught me so much about myself. I was, indeed, a learner as well. Reading through her work brought to mind all of the conversations surrounding her focus and choices.

Beyond my classroom, Becky went on to win writing competitions and even without confirming it, I know writing continues to drive her life and profession.




Let me share several pieces from this writer's pen.

A Maple Obsession

The sweet smell of maple syrup enhances the air of the sugar house. Stars dance in the eyes of my father as he works his craft. The nights bring a freeze and the days bring warm spring temperatures; the seven hundred trees he has tapped let a flow of sugar water run into the purple and blue tubing which leads to the sugar house. He clutches some wood and tosses it into the flaming fire. The sap is boiled down and when it reaches its peak temperature, with precision he draws a flow of brown, bubbly-hot liquid into a stainless steel pail. Then he cautiously pours the fluid through a series of white filters to assure purity and exquisite flavor. He prides himself on his fancy grade A syrup and anything not up to his standards isn't for sale. The syrup is bottled and labeled with great care, as is everything in this building, his home away from home. At times, the sap runs so well that they boil for eighteen hours straight (the sugar house is even furnished with a bed for those all-night runs).

The same hands that pitch the wood can be so gentle in caressing the stainless steel of his very expensive equipment. The evaporator, the flue pan, and the finishing unit are very important elements in his business. With a four thousand dollar evaporating pan, he possesses no cheap hobby. but the smiles that keep him young are worth so much more.

A youthful expression envelops his face, totally contradicting his black beard and shiny hair, scattered with silver. He is content with his place in the syrup woods. This is his place, his alone. yet he is never alone; he always has visitors. his crew of friends and syrup makers are forever around for support and help - Rusty, Connie, Doug, Bill, Tom, Rich, and Cal, just to name a few. The syrup woods are not all work, but a major gathering place during March syrup season. Fish frys and card games are popular activities for the guys.

After a while, he takes off his well-worn Carhart vest and sets it aside. The old, torn vest and bibs are part of his everyday syrup-making garb. Sometimes he doesn't even have to wear them; the blazing fire burns so hot and brightly that with the rolling stem and maple aroma in the air, the heat becomes very intense. He's in his prime. He takes this all so seriously,yet with a smile, a laugh, and an occasional beer.

Lack of Understanding

I do not understand

Anthology Dedication

     The point of algebra
     Why flowers smell
     Why no two snowflakes are alike.

But most of all, I do not understand
     How people can slaughter
     Helpless endangered animals
     Why the screams of entangled
     Dolphins don't arouse some
     Compassion in those
     Hideous killers.

What I understand most is
     People who are stuck
     Wanting to express their
     Opinions, but afraid.
     People who sing off key
     And love a sunset.

I am grateful for this young woman's confidence in me and her willingness to share her thoughts, words, and talents with so many. I am proud of her commitment to a new generation of students and it is clear from what I see they are proud of her as well. Enjoy the Midland (Michigan) High School yearbook staff's singing Valentine to a favorite teacher:

Post by Midland High Yearbook.

There are other writers whose work graces my shelves. Many are former students and some are peer writers, and I will spotlight them in future postings to honor their work, their passion, and how they too touched my life. I will forever be a student of theirs.