In Memoriam

In my school days, I was blessed with several truly exceptional teachers. One such teacher was Mr. R., my Humanities teacher, freshman year of high school. He was the type of teacher that a student dreads in school but comes to truly appreciate as an adult. Mr. R. expected excellence from each of us and never let us get by with less than our best. I had already heard of Mr. R. before that first day of high school as I stood outside of his classroom preparing to enter. His reputation preceded him.

Actually, my story really begins five years earlier on a fall day when I was in the fourth grade. A retired English teacher entered our classroom to assist our teacher in grammar instruction. Mrs. R. wore a smart, red business suit with her white hair pinned up neatly on her head in prim and proper fashion. Whispers from the bigger fifth and sixth graders had already warned us that Mrs. R. was no-nonsense. She spoke perfect English and allowed nothing less from her students. Mrs. R. drilled us in the proper usage of the comma, semi-colon, and apostrophe. Her personal pet-peeve was the term "a lot". Mrs. R. taught us never to use "a lot", but at least to know that it was two words and not one. We learned how to diagram sentences and to never end with a conjunction. Looking back, I realize that Mrs. R. laid the foundation for my English grammar. She taught me how to write properly.

Rumor had it that Mrs. R. had a husband who taught at the high school and was just as tough as she was. It was with this knowledge that I entered Mr. R.'s classroom my freshman year. I must admit that I was a bit surprised when I first met Mr. R. His wardrobe was everything that Mrs. R.'s was not. I cannot honestly remember ever seeing him in anything other than faded blue jeans, plaid shirt, bulky sweater, and something that resembled moccasin slippers. He was a big, bear of a man with thick glasses and shaggy hair. Just imagining the two of them together in all of their contrast still brings a chuckle to me.

Mr. R. had a strict grading policy for our five-paragraph themes. He read our rough drafts and marked each error, but he stopped reading when he came to the third error. There were times when he did not even get passed the first sentence! We were allowed to correct our errors, try to proof the rest of the theme ourselves, and return our second draft to Mr. R. He, again, read the draft and stopped after marking the third error. This was crunch time. We corrected the theme and turned in the final draft. I confess there was a time or two that I handed Mr. R. a final draft in which he had never read beyond the first paragraph. I could only imagine the mine field of red ink and the disappointing grade that may await me. That's right! Mr. R. always corrected our papers in red ink. It did not damage my self-esteem, but it sure did get my attention! If Mrs. R. laid my English grammar foundation, Mr. R. built one of the stories.

Mr. R. was so much more than an English teacher. He taught me to be excellent. He refused to allow the word "yeah", requiring "yes" in its place. As my Humanities teacher, Mr. R. truly opened my eyes to a world I had never before experienced. He inspired me to love old movies. He instilled in me an appreciation for fine art. He tried his best to awaken some interest within me for opera. (Sorry, Mr. R.) To this day, I still automatically identify the focal point when first looking at a painting or photograph. Mr. R. tried to bring a little culture into our public education. I will never forget how he insisted that we not clap every time the music stopped when he took us to the symphony. He did not want us to embarrass him. When others around us clapped, Mr. R. simply looked at us to make sure that none of the dolts were from his class.

I have not thought of some of these memories in some time, but these experiences have helped to make me who I am. I received the news today that Mr. R. passed away on Christmas Eve this year. After shedding tears, I determined to do something that would truly honor him and write this blog. Thank you, Mr. R., for requiring the best of your students. Thank you for inspiring me to be excellent. Thank you, Mrs. R., as well. You and your husband will forever live in my heart. My family's thoughts and prayers are with you.

Reader, how about you? Who were the teachers who truly inspired you to be more than you thought you could be?