Active Poets Society

I went to high school for 2 1/2 years before I dropped out to be awesome, and amidst the flurry of anxiety, angst, and straight-F's, I had one teacher that really reached me. He was a guy in his late-30's that taught Social Studies, but instead of teaching from a history book, he taught us about shit like 'How to do a job interview,' 'Here's how we fucked up Vietnam', and 'Here's what to do if a cop comes to your house without a warrant.' I ended up getting a 'C' grade in his class, which was like a damn miracle.


Because I work at a nonprofit that deals with schools, I'm often browsing school websites for email addresses. It dawned on me to look up my old high school to see if any of the names were familiar. Aside from this weirdo who was in my class who now teaches there, I recognized zero names, except that this guy was STILL there. He has to be in his 60's now. So spur of the moment, I did maybe the corniest thing I've ever done, and sent him a short and mild "Oh Captain, My Captain" note. Just letting him know that he was the only one there who talked to me like a human, and that I didn't forget. I figured that good people deserve to hear good things, and that this could sort of be like a movie we were starring in together. This guy wrote me back right away, and said that he was so glad to hear from me, and that I made his day. I know you teachers like that stuff.


It dawned on me later that a former student in 2019 contacting a teacher about a class in 1993 is equivalent to a teacher in 1993 getting a note from a student from 1967. Fuck that, right? So I'm hoping at least that he'll tell his next class that he heard from a student who took his class in 1993, and that his students will briefly look up from their phones to roll their eyes and be like "Whatever, was this guy like at Woodstock or something?"