Back to School

It's a shame I didn't keep a blog when I was in high school. I graduated from LaSalle High School in 2002, about two years before web logs became legitimate forms of communication. I met up with Mr. Paul Klockow last night and was quickly reminded of all of the stories from high school that need to be shared with the world. Namely, the story of Mr. Moyer.

Moyer was our government teacher, and he was a lame duck - he'd be retiring at year's end. One time a kid fell asleep in class at the end of the day, and Moyer wouldn't let anyone wake him. Poor kid finally woke up in an empty school three hours after the day had ended. That was Moyer.

We kept a running diary of virtually every session of class, and tracked how many consecutive days Moyer would say the word "jackass" during class. Every day for fourteen consecutive days. It was like being alive in DiMaggio's prime.

But the penultimate Moyer story is this one. During Christmas break of our freshman year of college, Paul and I decided to visit a few teachers. We went and saw Mr. Tutorow and Mr. Damien, but unfortunately, Mr. Moyer had retired. We decided to do some Christmas shopping, the whole time, lamenting that we couldn't see Moyer.

We walked into the University Park Mall, and who was the first person we saw? It was Mr. Moyer, sitting on a bench with his wife. He shook our hands with the intensity that makes your whole body shake until it's over. Then, this happened:

Moyer: Do you know what I do every morning now that I'm retired?
Me: No.
Moyer: I wake up, I drink my coffee, and then I sit on the porch, and give the finger to the school buses as they pass by.
Me: ...
Moyer's Wife: (Nodding sadly.)

And he was just one of the men who worked to shape my future.