The other day, I received a most unexpected message in response to one of my essays:I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished. I shared your opinion ... It was signed Margaret Leibfried, who was my English teacher -- a teacher who appeared at a vital   point in my life and helped me believe that I could become a writer. Thirty years ago, I entered high school as an introvert   made all the more shy because I was the school's only nonwhite student. I always felt in danger of being swept away by a sea of tall white athletes. I spent a lot of time alone, reading and writing stories, hoping to escape being teased. Ms. Leibfried taught American literature and composition grammar, which involved the usual memorizing vocabulary, but also, thrillingly, reading novels. Thrilling to me, that is. Many of my classmates expressed dislike for novels because they were "not real." For once, I didn't care what they thought. Ms. Leibfried seemed to notice my interest in both reading and writing, and she took the time to make me feel less shy; she even offered me reading suggestions, like one of her favorite novels, "The Bell Jar." That year's big project was a book report, to be read aloud to the class. However, Ms. Leibfried suggested I do something "a little different." Instead of a report, I chose a passage from "The Bell Jar" that I considered as the best to recite. The morning of the presentations, I remember my hands sweating so badly as I walked to the front of the class that I kept my hands crossed, so I wouldn't wipe them on my blouse. When I finished, to my surprise, the class applauded. "Marie has picked out a particularly sensitive piece of writing and delivered it beautifully," Ms. Leibfried said, smiling. I felt, maybe for the first time, confident. What was the author's purpose in writing the text?
To express her thanks to her teacher. To discuss the issue of racial prejudice  . To introduce one of her favorite books. To suggest the ways to gain confidence.