I don’t know where he came from or where he ever ended up. With a master’s degree in history, he was camped out in the last little high school in America. He would have the chalkboard full of notes as he lectured in what seemed like a historical desert to most. Sometimes I would look around and realize I was the only one listening, for I liked history. Sometimes just to get the attention of the class, I would raise my hand. He would acknowledge me and ask, “What is it, Gary?” I would reply, “Mr., what is your dog’s name?” He would drawl, “Dog.” Then he would go on lecturing just as if I had asked what political party Roosevelt belonged to. Everyone would look at him, then half-dazedly look at me momentarily. It wasn’t long before each student had returned to his or her own individual thoughts that probably had nothing to do with history.
Yes, it was like that in my school sometimes and like the song says, “When I think of all the things I learned in high school, it is a wonder that I can think at all.” However, let me say I wouldn’t want to change my educational journey for anything. All those educators who tried to have some input into my life were planted there by God.
The psalmist put it this way:
Psalm 23:6
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord
Forever.
Maybe they didn’t have too much to work with at times; certainly, they didn’t receive much appreciation, but looking back, I am thankful that our paths crossed.
Think about it.
Gary