Saying Hi To Old Teachers
January 31, 2006
Mr. Van White was my eighth grade English teacher.  He was also Academic Pentathlon and spelling bee adviser, had a white beard, and drove a red Jeep.  A couple years ago, I saw him for the first time in...well, since 8th grade.  Nineteen years.


Early last year, I stopped by Walker Junior High to say hi to Alan Chen, see how he was doing since transferring over from teaching at our old high school, Kennedy, to our old junior high school just across the street.  Walking across campus from the entrance by the parking lot to what used to be Mr. Bass'(?) old room, I was reading the signs by each door listing the teacher's name.  And damned if I didn't recognize one:  Next to room 3, it said "Mr. White".  Mr. White!  Still teaching at Walker!  I peeked in and saw the same white beard, maybe a bit thicker and a bit whiter with the passing of eighteen years, a little bit more flesh to him, but recognizable all the same.  Meant to say hello, but by the I came back after talking with Alan, he was gone.  Mentioned it to Miss Whitsett after walking across the street to Kennedy, and she said she'd heard that might be his last year.  Resolved to try to stop by and say hello before June, but never got another chance.

So this past Christmas break, I figured I'd check one more time, see if he stuck around for one more year.  And sure enough, he did.  Would he remember me?  Psh, after eighteen years and some three thousand students, it'd be reasonable to expect not.  And I was what, twelve years old then?
  "Mr. White?" as I enter.
  "Yes?" he looks up from his desk.
  "Yong Joo, from..."
You know, I don't think I even got the "from" out before his face broke out in recognition and he was up grinning and shaking my hand.  That quick.  How much can you really remember after 18 years and 3000 kids?

He remembers me and my brother, "the Joo boys".  And he remembers that our mom doesn't drive on freeways.

He remembers Karen Holcombe, queen of History Day.

He remembers Eric Kim, how when he and his dad came by for Open House, Mr. White tried to tell his dad what a great kid he was, how he was doing well, and the whole time, Eric just stood there with his head down, like it was daggers he was offering and not praise, what can you say to Asian culture where success is expected and the norm is considered failure?

18 years, and these things just bubble up without any deep digging.  I threw out other names of people I still keep in touch with, and he didn't remember all of them, but I'd forgotten that half of us hadn't been in his class, had instead been in Core with Moffatt/Aborne.

36 years teaching, and the man's retiring after this year, still sharp as a tack, eyes bright, and after spending ten minutes with him, I couldn't tell the difference any more between the man I was looking at and the one in my memory.  They were the same.


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