Mr. A.

When I was in grade eight I wrote a short story/book called, "The Man and His Glasses".  I dedicated it to my dad for his(at the time) incredible unwillingness to give up his ancient and outdated glasses.  At first, it was supposed to be about my dad and how I imagined he had come about his ancient glasses.  I even named the main character after my superhero of a father.  Very quickly, however, the story turned into a complete, unbridled-imagination-fueled fabrication.

Not a lie by any means.  It was a story.  A beautiful story that didn't at all fit the requirements of my assignment.  Or at least, it wouldn't, if the assignment had had any requirements.

Grade eight was an interesting year.  I was experiencing my first year of public school, and I was in an all boys class.  Before January, our class had gone through three teachers.  All of whom ended up in tears before quitting.  In short, our class was a teacher's nightmare.  The school was desperate to find a teacher who would teach our class and actually help us learn something.  When myself and my fellow classmates got on the bus to leave for Christmas break, we had no idea who our teacher would be when we returned.

And when we did return, we were greeted by a small man wearing skate clothes.  A small man Mr. A.  Until we learned that the, 'A' stood for, 'Atkins' most of us just assumed it meant, 'awesome'.

There are many, many reasons that Mr. A. was--and still is--the coolest teacher I and most of my classmates have ever had--the fact that he stays so memorable after a mere five months is testament enough--and I would love to share them all with you, dear reader, but my time is limited and so is yours.

Mr. A recognized that I had a talent/love for reading and writing.  He recognized that it wasn't something I did because it was a requirement for school, but because I enjoyed it.  When the school library didn't have any books that interested me, I was allowed to bring a book of my choice for reading time.  And when it came time for english assignments, Mr. A. handed me a blank, 80 page Hilroy notebook and told me to write about whatever I felt like writing about.  The first story was about a conspiracy behind the San Diego earthquakes and their true cause being due to the experiments of a crazy scientist.  And after that came, "The Man and His Glasses".  A story about a young german genius who bought a pair of glasses and turned them into a massively advanced multi-functioning technological device whose primary function was still to improve vision.

I'm not exactly sure how Mr. A's marking system worked, or how he went about grading an assignment that had no requirements, but I essentially aced grade eight english, and I learned a lot more about english and writing than just how to form a grammatically correct sentence(I still don't know how to do that).

Mr. A. did what teachers are supposed to do.  He recognized a spark, threw some fuel on it, and fanned it into a flame.  And he didn't just do that for me.  Everyone in our class had special assignments for certain subjects.  Mr. A let talents flourish by giving them the resources to do so.  When I received a, "marked" and completed copy of, "The Man and His Glasses", I found the following note scribbled in to the last few pages:

"Dear Isaac,

Every now and then a teacher comes across a student who decides that normal and ordinary are not good things to be!  Then the teacher panics and says, 'That's is--the GIG is up!  I'm going to be found out'.  So the teacher desperately tries to create a new task to keep that student from discovering the truth about teachers.  That truth, by the way, is that teachers--but that's another story.  Let me return to the task at hand.  Obfuscation!

The teacher, determined to continue the process of denying truth to the student, suggests to the student that he, "pursue that talent" "attempt that independent study" "create.." "design.." and pretty soon the student is sidetracked and forgets that he was on the brink of discovering the truth that the teacher--but that's classified information!  Should it slip out, then this book will, in five seconds, (give or take a century) self destruct. (run very quickly away!  Now!)

If you are still here and reading this, I obviously have work to do to scarify you!  By the way, scarify is a legitimate word--and a very convenient sidetrack to finish this page without telling you the real truth about teachers--they are all crazy!  (well, except me)"

"The Man and His Glasses" was, and still is, dedicated to my dad.  This blog, however, is dedicated to Mr. A, for his heroic efforts to recognize my passion, and grow it beyond anyone's control.  Not even my own.  Thank you.