a tale of three teachers

and a prof who spoke up for the boys

Think for a moment about some of your most influential teachers. The majority of mine were found outside of the public school system. Within the system though, there were some real gems. High School English for example wasn’t bad at all.

In the tenth grade English was not my thing. Penmanship, grammar and spelling - all highly valued by my middle school teachers made me feel like a quadriplegic hurdler. My attempts at good grammar and writing likely looked like Steven Hawking doing the high jump.¹

That year, I was in a university track English class. My teacher, Mr Hay - Sandy - he saw something in me that no one had noticed until then. You can’t imagine how shocked I was when he suggest that I enroll in advanced, honours English with the ‘gifted kids’.

You don’t belong here. Take that class. Get away from these thugs. You have a wonderful imagination. You are sensitive and creative. You’ll fit in better there. Sandy was a gay man. I was a cute young man. At the time, I didn’t get a cr…