My first day at a new school - 4th grader, age 9

It was the first day of school and I had no idea to expect. Fourth grade should hardly raise any major nerves, but I was alone in a new school. Though the school was only a half block's walk from my new home, it gave me little piece of mind.

One reason Mom liked the house was that the school was so close, she didn't have to worry about how I would get myself to school. (I have no idea if my Dad ever had such worries.) I had no concept of how long it would take me to walk there: 2 minutes, 5, or maybe even 10? The memories for the minutiae has been clouded by the years, but I do recall it was not a sunny day.

I knew where the main office was located because, 1. it was at the front of the school, and 2. I had gone inside over the summer to register with Mom. The lady at the counter must have handed me a note and pointed me towards the recess playground because I remember walking towards a group of children who were lining up in front of an adult - my new teacher. He was tall and had his back towards me. He was wearing a men's shirt tucked into dark slacks and men's shoes. His hair was balding at the top, but he had enough to go around the sides from temple to temple, so I assumed he was an older man. I had no concept of age at 9 years old so he was just another adult in my life - the teacher.

Being rather shy and more nervous than usual since I didn't know a single person in the line of students standing before the teacher, I felt even more self-conscious. The stares from the group at me must have alerted him to my presence as he wheeled around and said, "I'm not going to slap you." I had no response to this. All I could do was hand him the note from the main office. I vaguely recall him telling me to get in line behind the last student, and I am pretty sure I did not cry, but my memory is fuzzy again. The one thing I do remember is how I felt. There was a pit in my stomach and I didn't know what to do with it.

If this brute of a man scares you, he did me. If there is no fear because what was passable in 198- could never fly in our modern day of excess political correctness, I would have to agree. But the rest of my 4th grade, under this man's guidance, left me with an impression I carry to this day... He was one of the best teachers I ever had. His name was Mr. D---.

Mr. D--- was older and the first male teacher I had. His left arm was slightly crippled by polio so it remained stiffly at his side, hidden always behind long-sleeved shirts, and moved by his right hand as needed to place pages on the bulletin board. He drove a classic Studebaker in near mint condition painted in soft blues with whitewall tires. He had a small Frenchman's mustache and reading glasses when needed. He was like no other teacher I had ever seen.

It is hard to believe this man, who inadvertently "threatened" a frightened new child, would also be that child's academic role model. To this day, I have only the fondest memories of my days under his tutelage. (I can't say that the days amongst my peers were any fun, but that is another tale to tell.) From him, I learned that the dynamics of enthusiasm and care could further carry knowledge than any belabored lesson plan.

Mr. D--- fulfilled the curriculum's mandates with general arithmetic, English reading and grammar, daily doses of recess on the playground, and what seemed to be an elementary school requirement during the '80s of square dancing. But then he did some things I'd never come across any other year from the first through the sixth grades and were surely his own creations. And they were very creative.

One day, he began telling the tale of a woman girl who was essentially orphaned and cast to live at a boarding school. She had no family to lean on and had no friends at this new school and she was a stubborn child. This girl's name was Jane Eyre. Every day, he spent time (what felt like hours to me then I am sure was barely 30 minutes) orating Jane's escapes in the boarding school and eventually her young adulthood. But this was no children's tale. Jane dealt with hardship, loss, desire, fear, abandonment, and love. Mr. D--- paced back and forth at the front of the class, his eyes wide and his voice booming so not a single word was lost to our ears. Just as Jane matured and graduated from the horrid boarding school to be a fine young lady, she embarks on the real journey taking a job as governess. And there she meets the volatile Mr. Edward Rochester. Oh, here was a prince unlike any I had read about in my fairytales. Edward was complex and could be cruel which masked his true feelings for Jane. Mr. D---'s description of the appearance of the "wild woman" haunts me to this day as he paced the floor with heavy steps, eyes wide, emphasizing the crazed red eyes this wild woman had who tries to kill Edward and torches the estate to the ground. I carry this memory with immense fondness because his passion for the story made me pick up the novel by Charlotte Bronte and I read it from cover to cover at age 10. To this day, Jane Eyre is one of my most beloved books.

Another lesson plan he devised was something I thought was impossible. On the chalkboard, he listed 20 sentences but he left out various words by replacing it with an underline (_____). The sentences did not go together and it didn't tell a story. He then handed the class a thick textbook (I can't remember if it was geography or economics, but the subject matter wasn't of import) and gave us his instructions. The sentences were all contained within the textbook provided. We were to fill in the missing words by locating it in the book and noting where it was found. I thought he was crazy because the volume was over 300 pages. How could we find a word amongst all those sentences? The answers: context clues and Indexes. Mr. D--- had challenged us to use our deductive reasoning skills (skills we had no idea even existed). Without explaining it, he taught us what an Index is for and how to use it. I learned to skim through paragraphs to ascertain the gist of its meaning. I felt such a proud sense of accomplishment when I would be able to finish these assignments especially when I was among the first students to get all the answers quickly.

As a special treat towards the end of the school year, he started to show films during the lunch hour in his classroom. We were allowed to bring our lunches in and eat at our desks while watching some classics (I wish I could say what movies we watched, but I don't recall.) The one thing I took away which has nothing to do with Mr. D--- was the brilliant beverage, Martinelli's Sparkling Cider, and the acrylic champagne "glasses" to imitate a high society gathering for our class. We knew we had the best teacher at ---rd Street Elementary School.

I miss him to this day, and I think of him fondly often. I regret not having kept in touch after I had moved on to junior high school. I assumed he'd never remember me, but I know now a teacher who cared that much for his profession would have enjoyed knowing what an impact he had on a single student. Sometime later, I believe it was my 9th or 10th grade year, we got the news Mr. D--- had passed away. I was too ashamed of myself to attend his funeral, even though his former students were invited to come, if so desired. I wanted to, but since I never told him in life, trying to share my respect after his death felt wrong.

It has been several decades since that first day of school. And this is the first time I have written down that experience. I can't say it does much for his legacy for me to express this gratitude now, but I guess it does say something for the importance teachers can play in a child's development. Mr. D--- helped me to discover that I was passionate about something, at a time when I didn't know who I was or what I might want. And if nothing else, the one thing that drives me forward, even on my worst days, is my passion. Whether it be for music, food, films or books, I discovered a part of myself I might have never known existed. Though these words may be coming many years to late, better late than never ... Thank you, Mr. D---.