This post is a bit different from all others. It is my tribute to the greatest teacher I ever knew. I originally had thoughts of composing the article in May, on Teacher’s Day, but other duties kept me occupied, so I delayed. But as they say, later is better than never, and it is my pleasure to sit down and share with you an interesting story of a teacher I knew growing up in New York City, some of the coincidences I experienced knowing him, as well as a general tribute to all teachers out there. In my estimation, teaching is one of the most noble professions, as “Jeopardy!” host Alex Trebek also used to say.
First of all, most of you know me as the writer of the articles on my blog. I am primarily focused on business, though occasionally I like to venture into other areas, such as languages, history, and self-improvement. Besides being the writer of these posts, I’m also a published writer in the suspense genre. I’ve written and published a novel and have over a dozen short stories published in various anthologies and magazines. Some of you may know me from Zoetrope, where I’m a Top 10% reviewer in the fiction section. I’ve been a member since 2007 and have met many great writers and just people in general who helped me not only become a better writer but also allowed me to reciprocate that help by assisting as much as I can with their work. If you’re a fiction writer and would like me to review your work, please feel free to contact me. I will do it at no charge.
So, on to the story (a true one) of the greatest teacher I ever knew…
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The other day on my favorite TV quiz show there was a clue that asked for the name of a scientist. I immediately recognized the name: Jonas Salk. The reason is, the renowned scientist attended the same elementary school as I did in the Bronx. I knew this through the very teacher whom I’m about to tell you about.
That got me to thinking about my teacher. He was my 5th-grade teacher and used to be an alumnus of Bronx High School of Science. Those of you who live in New York City may be familiar with the school. It was the home of many renowned scientists, teachers, doctors, and people in the arts. Among the graduates of the school were famous people not only from the past but the present. One thing that immediately stuck out to me about my teacher was his intelligence. I’ve never met anyone as intelligent as he was.
What I really liked about him was his interesting way of presenting lessons. I can remember vividly being so excited every morning upon awakening, knowing that I would learn something new. I actually credited him for my love of knowledge and learning new things. Three things I learned in the fifth grade with this teacher that still stay with me:
1. The 50 state capitals.
We had to memorize them, and it took me about 2 weeks.
2. A love of vocabulary.
Every day, we would learn a new word. I still remember three of the words that I learned as a student. They are: flabbergasted, conscientious, and blurb. Those are quite big words to know for someone who’s 11 years old. There were many more words that I learned that year, but these three stick out.
3. A general love of geography.
My teacher often passed out unused letters which were chock-full of information about other countries and cultures in the world. I never forget reading them with keen interest as I learned some facts I hadn’t known before. Of course, it’s been decades since I read these, and I don’t remember much about what I learned, but I do know that I was so interested in what I was reading that it was hard to get my attention off of that to something else.
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It was also the year that the New York Mets won the World Series. I can remember going home thinking about two things, and only these two; watching the Mets and doing my homework as I learned something new. As you can tell by the articles I write on my blog, I’m an avid baseball fan, have been so since the 1980s, and if there’s something that threatens to take my attention off of baseball, that means I was very interested in it.
After I graduated (which, by coincidence, occurred on my 12th birthday!), I began corresponding with him. It was one day that I, out of the blue, decided to write him a letter, which I then passed on to a student who was attending that elementary school. I’ll never forget the beautiful letter he wrote me back. I opened it and dozens of colorful stamps fell out of the letter. Of course, when you’re a kid, some things can seem ingenuous in retrospect, but even today I still recall his encouragement and motivation and how he praised me for my interests and successes in my new school, and that still stays with me.
In one of his missives, I can remember, he emphasize the importance of knowledge. Even to this day, the words stand clear in my mind. Here is the sentence that he wrote, a beautiful phrase that I still remember to this day:
A thirst for knowledge is truly one of life’s greatest rewards. Keep reaching for these precious delights.
Then, one day, I wasn’t particularly happy about something, and wrote him. In retrospect, I think he probably was a bit upset that I was sharing my personal problems with him, yet he did not refuse to respond, and in his letter, he wrote these encouraging words, which I still remember to this day:
Life, perhaps, is a constant test and evaluation of our fitness for survival in the hereafter. Oftentimes I too am disappointed and the answers of what to do are not readily apparent. Seek education, refine the good qualities of your heritage, and try to be a good rôle [yes, with the accent mark] model for others to see that success is possible with sustained effort.
Then he began to describe Brazil and Portugal, two countries that he enjoyed traveling to. In Portugal, he’d spent time as a Peace Corps volunteer teaching English as a foreign language in Morocco. Those words too were beautiful. For instance, he described Portuguese fado music as “haunting” then, as far as Brazil, he described the country as follows:
The variety of people, places, and food rivals that of most other nations.
Likely, some planning would go into his correspondence. As writers, we are always seeking easier ways to compose prose and streamline the writing process. The fact that he took the time to write me these letters really left me with an impression.
We even corresponded as adults. His enthusiasm was still evident, not only for my interest in learning and the successes I would achieve but also his enthusiasm for teaching, as he would often keep me abreast of news about his teaching career and how things were going at my former school in the Bronx.
Once, about two months passed when I hadn’t heard from him. Then I suddenly received a letter through the mail (by the way, I forgot to mention, he had beautiful handwriting. Perfect, and it just looked good on paper), and I don’t remember the exact words, but he used the word confluence in describing how he was busy because of all of these holidays converging at one time as well as having to deal with his busy teaching schedule and an illness. I thought, wow, that sentence sure sounds good. I do remember the part about him describing his illness:
…recovering from a relapse of the flu which pretty much kept me bedridden…
An unfortunate situation for him, but the words were beautiful.
Once I sent him a cassette with songs in Portuguese by Julio Iglesias, and he described his voice as “mellifluous” and easy to listen to. Ask for one of his German songs that I included within the same cassette, he described it as having “an incredibly wonderful melody” and the singer’s “cadence and voice inflection” as “heavily Latinate.”
Beautiful words in many of his letters.
On another coincidence (besides the fact that I graduated his class on my 12th birthday), I’d included other songs, including the French version (“Nostalgie”) of a famous Russian tune called “Ochi Chernye” (“Black Eyes”), and he mentioned how his grandmother would often sing the song to him as a child.
Sadly, my favorite teacher passed away in 2018. I only found out about this when trying to look him up for a possible reunion. I immediately felt saddened. I wanted to reconnect with him even though it had been many years since our last correspondence. The realization that I would never again see him affected me to the point that, one day, he was all I thought about. Yet, somehow, I wasn’t terribly sad about him. I know that that’s a bit hard to say. But I mean it in the sense that someone had touched my life in a beautiful way, and he would no longer be around to correspond with me or to have conversations, yet I was thankful that I had known him during my lifetime.
As an adult, I only met him twice. This was years after we ended our correspondence. The first was on a cold February morning when I suddenly decided that I’d like to take his offer and visit him at the school library. I was twenty years old and no longer the kid who sat in the classroom listening to him as he gave his lessons. He was still warm and friendly, and we sat and chatted at the school library. It was nice for me to visit my former alma mater, where I hadn’t been to in nine years. At that time the voting was held in the lunchroom and though some years had passed, I felt as though I had time traveled.
The day that I saw him was on February 29th, 1996. It just so happened to be a coincidence. I don’t know if there’s any deeper meaning behind that, but it was indeed a special day.
The second time I met him was in the summer of 2002. By then, he was close to retiring. I remember him mentioning that he was looking forward to traveling more and spending time with his grandchildren.
We decided to meet at Radio City Music Hall and then headed to the 2002 New York Book Fair. There, I had the pleasure of meeting writers Carol Higgins Clark, Lorenzo Carcaterra, and R.L. Stine. To this day, I treasure a photo we took in front of a booth with a banner that reads, “So You Want to Be an Author!” as well as those with Carol Higgins Clark, who, sadly, passed away a few years ago.
Prior to the stroll through the fair, we sat at Columbus Circle, where I showed him photos of my own volunteer work in Israel at two kibbutzim, from 2001-’02. My teacher was of Jewish heritage, and his influence sparked my interest in learning more about Judaism. Growing up, I’d attend Catholic church services whenever I could with my Puerto Rican grandmother.
Reflecting back on all of this, I realize how fortunate I was to have a teacher who not only imparted knowledge but also inspired a lifelong love of learning. He made me see the world differently and taught me to appreciate the beauty of words and the importance of education.
In today’s fast-paced world, where technology often takes precedence over personal interaction, I think about the significance of that teacher-student relationship. The letters, the conversations, and the lessons are all parts of a wonderful legacy he left behind, a legacy that lives on in every student he taught.
To all the teachers out there: thank you for your dedication, your passion, and your unwavering commitment to shaping young minds. You are the unsung heroes, and your impact is far-reaching and profound.
And to my fifth-grade teacher: you were more than just an educator. You were a mentor, a guide, and a friend. Your lessons extended beyond the classroom and have stayed with me throughout my life. For that, I am eternally grateful.
Thank you for reading this tribute. May it remind you of the teachers who have touched your life and inspire you to express your gratitude. Teaching is one of the most honorable professions, and it’s vital to acknowledge and celebrate those who dedicate their lives to educating and sharing their knowledge with others.
