The dilemma I’m a 16-year-old student harbouring ardent feelings for a teacher. She’s an absolutely wonderful (in my view, angelic) human being, who seems utterly devoted to what she does and is terribly cordial to us students. It is out of awe for her personality, and gratitude for how she’s made a mark in my life, that I feel so attached to her. She’s in her late 20s, I suppose, but I feel she could be 18. My feelings are not sexual, but my social circles make barely any room for this possibility. I can find little solace in my friends for fear that they’d mock me because she’s not considered a looker. I feel an urge to tell her how amazing and adored she is, but fear she’ll be threatened or affronted, or that she’ll feel pained for me and not know how to respond.

Mariella replies Let’s talk motivation, shall we? I certainly appreciate and recognise your finer feelings for this teacher. It’s easy to forget in adulthood what a dramatic and positive influence a good teacher can have when we’re young and impressionable, and what havoc a bad one can wreak. I’ll never forget Miss Needham in my village school in Kilmacanogue, rocking on her heels, pressed up against the storage heater while her students shivered at their desks in the cold prefabricated schoolroom, tapping the same rhythm she rocked to with the bamboo switch in her hand. The only useful thing I recall learning that year was how to avoid her attention and, by default, a caning.

Later though, like many school kids, I had my unrequited passions. The greatest was for Brother Jim, a bearded Maronite with a genius for teaching maths. So devoted to him was I that, after years of D grades, in the space of one year in his class I upped my game to honours Maths, only to crash back to mediocrity the moment I moved on. Then there was Mr Murtagh, who I may not have loved so passionately at the time but who I’ve grown to value immeasurably as the decades have passed. He taught me how to lose and find myself in stories – and his appearance this summer at the Dalkey Book Festival, where I was discussing the anthology of erotica I’d edited, brought me to sudden and surprising tears!

Feel free to worship her, learn from her and let her know what a difference she’s making to your life

When you ask people about their teachers, so often stories of inspiration and gratitude abound and their influence continues to resonate down the decades. Having a crush on your teacher is as common as it is complex. I followed Brother Jim around like a dog, trotting at his ankles as he circumnavigated the school, wearing him down with my ceaseless chatter until one day he put a piece of chalk in my mouth in class to shut me up. Judged by today’s standards it may seem a little unpalatable but it was very much a benign intervention back in 1970s Ireland! I’m happy to report that Brother Jim and I recently got back in touch and enjoyed an online session of mutual forgiveness.

I bring up those experiences to highlight how natural it is to be feeling that way you are. There are, as I’m sure you’re aware, a number of tortuous questions woven into your email. Should you declare yourself? Is it wrong to feel such passion? Is it possible it might be reciprocated? What should you expect your classmates’ reaction to be?

Whether she’s 18 or 80, no matter how inspirational you find her, as a relationship this isn’t going anywhere. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell her how you feel. Teachers work long and hard, for little money and often less thanks, so to have a student acknowledge your influence, articulate your virtues and thank you for your input would no doubt feel like a welcome and rare reward. You’re young and vulnerable, and misplaced emotions are simply a part of growing up. It’s easy to confuse romantic passion for admiration, a mistake I make every time a tree surgeon visits our house! Whether your teacher is a “looker” or not is of no consequence, as this can’t, shouldn’t and won’t be a relationship where her physical attributes are of consequence.

To drag your elevated passion for her down to the pedestrian realms of physical desire would be the opposite of a compliment. Instead you can feel free to worship her, learn from her and let her know what a difference she’s making to your life. You have little to be ashamed of and it’s a debt that’s worth repaying.

What a lucky pupil you are to have such a great mentor in your life. Appreciate every instant but don’t let your emotions run away with you. Great teachers don’t grow on trees so celebrate her the old-fashioned way, put pen to paper and tell her why you value her. Your reward will be the pleasure she gains from the knowledge that in the eyes of at least one of her students, she’s done her job brilliantly and made her mark on your life.

If you have a dilemma, send a brief email to mariella.frostrup@observer.co.uk. Follow her on Twitter @mariellaf1