My high school drama teacher, Jan Jones, passed away this past Tuesday.  Although I haven’t seen or talked to her in years, the memories of my time with her came rushing back when I heard the news.  We moved to Tyler the summer before my junior year.  I was the new girl, once again, and I’m sure the sheer presence of this very tough woman had me shaking in my boots.  Our relationship was definitely love/hate, and there were times that I was sure she was out to make my life miserable.  I was 17, very impressionable, eager to please, wanting to fit in but shine on my own at the same time.  I was rebellious and selfish, a diva in my own mind.  Looking back, I’m sure Jones saw me (and hundreds like me) walk through her doors and tough love was the only thing that kept me focused. I think deep down, I always held it against her that she never gave me that role – the one that would surely bring me applause and accolades – the one that would prove I was really something special.  Instead, I was a supporting player and the Vice President of our drama club, somewhat behind the scenes, always just in the middle…average is probably the word I would have used at the time.  And yet, I think back to her tough love and at 33, I get it.  If it weren’t for her making me practice my tin man walk for an hour (Yes, I was the Tin Man in our children’s production of “The Wizard of Oz”), circling the inside of the theatre in tears (I so remember the tears), I don’t know if I would have had the guts to go to Baylor to major in theatre performance.  I don’t know if I would have had the guts to throw myself into the program there and literally leave my soul out on the stage for four years. I wouldn’t have gone to NYC for the summer before senior year of college to study acting and live in Gramercy Park BY MYSELF.  And I definitely wouldn’t have gotten on that plane to Chicago 11 years ago with my dad’s $100 bill and 6 suitcases, ready to start my life. So really, I have a lot to thank Ms. Jones for.  She made me hungry, gave me a will to succeed that has stayed with me all these years.  Good night, Jones…