Mrs. Zini 58/365

Taught me diamante poems and sentence diagramming,
Which I loved in equal measure.
Worked your road trip into the curriculum.
My life was falling apart,
But my brain was starting to come together
And words were the glue.

Miss Barelski 25/365

Dreamy first grade story time.

"Gotta crawl, gotta crawl, gotta crawl
To the Ugly Bug Ball, to the ball, to the ball.
What a happy time we’ll have there
One and all at the Ugly Bug Ball!”

Mrs. Perks 24/365

Second grade, yarn-haired pumpkin, chrysalis, long frizzy hair, colored chalk with which you spelled of “uv” to see if we’d catch it. You remembered me twenty years later at my nephew’s party. You looked just the same.

Mr. Maloney 18/365

"Clean fingernails? Combed hair?"
Wore mod bell bottoms, skinny turtlenecks.
If we were good, you’d play guitar on Fridays, let us sing.
We must’ve always been good.
Maybe you liked singing Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

Mr. Schaub 10x365

How did I not know you were gay? All HS Drama teachers who live with their “friend” in Portland are gay. Missed your memorial service. Did they think I would judge you? I don’t know, but damn.

Mr. Nichols 7/365

Coke bottle glasses.
Sat backwards in a student desk.

"Did you have an orgy this weekend? Look it up."

Drank cough syrup from a bottle in a paper bag at your desk.
You taught me to think.

Mr. Spanish Teacher 6/365

Held the lunch room door open for me.

“Gracias,” my only Spanish word.

He said, “De nada.”

I said, “Huh?”

He explained.

Hottest teacher in school. Everybody liked him.
He committed suicide. They say he shot himself.

Mr. Ball 5/365

Worst math teacher ever. Tall, slouching, balding, with a nasal voice, brown polyester in the neon 80’s. Bueller. Bueller. The nastiest comb over ever. Mr. Ball. Dick Ball. What 14 year old could possibly take you seriously?

Mr. Huserik 4/365

Best math teacher ever. Tall, slouching, balding, with red mustache and a nasal voice. Funny as hell. Called me Stanley. Such a methodical mind. Wish it were mine. Wanted it all to make so much sense, but it never did.

Mr. Gingerich 3/365

I was sure you were old because of the way you talked about the new hair growing out of your ears instead of from the top of your head, but really you were only my age. You made all the boys mad and all the girls cry and all of us better singers and musicians for it. Thank you for teaching us music theory every single year and turning us on to Amadeus. And for trusting me, pushing me with Dolly. You knew I would love her and I did.