Gloria Harrell knew I cheated my way through her advanced composition and creative writing class during my senior year at Unicoi County High School in 1984.

She didn’t care then, and she didn’t care when I saw her and confessed a few years after high school on one of my visits back to Erwin, Tennessee.

Mrs. Harrell, who died a few weeks ago in Raleigh, North Carolina, was one of my favorite and most influential teachers — mostly because she didn’t care.

Allow me to explain.

I graduated from high school in 1984, moved to Texas in 1985 and started my career as a sports writer in 1986.

Shortly after that, on one of my visits back to Tennessee, I ran into Mrs. Harrell. I figured since I was a few years out of high school, lived in a different state and was already a year into my chosen career, it wouldn’t hurt to tell her the truth.

“I hope you don’t get mad at me,” I said. “But each day when you assigned us to write a paper in your class, I actually wrote three papers. I did mine, and I also did the papers for two girls in the class, who in turn did my computer science programs for me.”

Mrs. Harrell’s response stunned me.

“I knew what you were doing,” she said with a laugh. “I hope you haven’t been feeling too guilty about it.”

I hadn’t lost a lot of sleep over it, but I was confused that Mrs. Harrell didn’t seem angry at me and wondered why she didn’t put a stop to it while it was happening.

So, I asked.

“I didn’t get mad, and I didn’t mention it to you, because I knew those girls weren’t going to be writers and you were,” she said. “I also knew you had some troubling things going on in your life outside school, and writing was a way to get those things off your mind for at least an hour a day.”

I stumbled my way through a thank you, but to be honest, the entire conversation seemed a little strange the more I thought about it.

How did Mrs. Harrell know I was going to be a writer back in high school when I didn’t know it? After a hip injury during spring practice my freshman season surely cost me a lucrative NFL career, my plan was to be a biology teacher and a football coach.

Plus, I never discussed my private life with anyone, especially teachers. They had enough problems dealing with students like me at school, so I would never have burdened them with anything that happened off campus.

But, when I look back at Mrs. Harrell’s class, I realize the foundation was being built for what has turned into a nearly 40-year career writing about sports and writing columns for newspapers in East Texas.

I wrote three papers a day during a one-hour class. I sometimes write four or five stories a day for my newspaper, and most of them are on a strict deadline.

Those papers had to be creative (it was right there in the name of the class), and they had to be different enough to fool the teacher (I thought).

If I cover a game and my story doesn’t keep the attention of the readers after the first paragraph, they aren’t going to finish it and probably won’t read the next story with my byline on it.

And, by writing about the same subject three different ways, I was preparing myself to cover a game where the outcome is in doubt until the end or changes several times in the final minutes.

Mrs. Harrell couldn’t possibly have known I was going to make a career writing about sports, but she knew I had some writing talent and did everything she could to help me hone that talent.

So, I guess I was wrong to say she didn’t care.

Mrs. Harrell, like all good teachers, cared deeply. She just cared differently.

And for that, I’m forever grateful.

— Jack Stallard is sports editor of the Longview News-Journal, the Tyler Morning Telegraph’s sister paper. Email: jack.stallard@news-journal.com; follow on X @lnjsports.