Here's to You

What the teacher is, is more important than what he teaches.
~ Karl Menninger ~

The questions have been posed: “Who was your most inspiring teacher? What teacher gave you the energy to be your best? Whose classroom was ‘life giving’?”

I’ve had some really outstanding university professors. I could probably pick one of those and call it a day. But I know that – for many reasons – that would not address the question. There is one obvious choice for the teacher who made the most impact on my life. If honouring him means dredging up some unpleasant things, I suppose that he’s worth my doing that.

My teenage years were a veritable train wreck. I will spare you all the gory details. Rebellion turned into defiance which ultimately turned into loss of interest in school altogether, and dropping out. Twice, in case I hadn’t made my point the first time.

But while I was still in school, I had a couple of teachers who really shouldn’t be teachers, lots of decent but unremarkable ones, a couple of outstanding ones, and this one, truly phenomenal one: Mr. Tapp.

Bill Tapp was a teacher who was unlike any I’d come across. His teaching approach was unique (in my experience at the time, anyways), and meshed so well with who he was as a person.

Mr. Tapp taught English. He did the odd exercise or lesson class-wide, in the usual fashion, but mostly, he taught individually. He was very knowledgeable about his field – literature – and  took the time to know his students. That combination enabled him to choose books for each student that really fit. Some of my favourite books to this day were his selections. They might not be if I came across them today for the first time – my connection to those books is probably because they were his selections, and were so perfect at the time. Mostly, his classroom was very quiet – a class full of reading students, plus himself and one student quietly convening at his desk.

That was how he taught.

Who he was … he was the extremely rare (I’m sorry to say) high school teacher who was genuinely respectful of his students. Although I don't necessarily think this is required in order to show respect, but he did address his students by title and surname. I look at that as an overt sign of respect, perhaps to immediately distinguish himself from some of his colleagues. He was compassionate, and willing to help far beyond the scope of his English teacher role. He saw his students as fellow human beings, and shared of himself. He knew a great deal about my life outside the classroom, and indeed shared some of his as well. It's sad that seeing students as human beings is notable. Maybe things have changed since 1980. I hope.

As I mentioned earlier, my adolescence was a disaster. I seldom went to school ... his class was one of the few things that drew me to school. I am not particularly eager to revisit those days here in any detail - but when my prof asked us whether there was a classroom which was "life giving," I'm sure she did not have a literal interpretation in mind. Yet it is quite possible that his role in my life at that time - one person who was supportive, actively helped, and believed in me - was more than life giving, in fact it may have been life saving.

As an adult, I did look him up once. It wasn’t too long after I left school, though at the time, it felt like an eternity. I was maybe twenty. We enjoyed a cold beer together, and a warm conversation. Just lately, my high school has been in danger of closing, so there’s been a fair bit of media surrounding it. (It’s one of the oldest high schools in the country, and there are other reasons it’s the subject of a genuine fury over the closure – if you google “PCVS closure” you’ll get the scoop). All that buzz about the school and its history, of course, made me think of Mr. Tapp. I searched the internet, Facebook, etc. – with no luck. Maybe he's still around somewhere, maybe not.

Here’s to you, Bill Tapp, wherever you are, for making a huge difference in my life. I would love to think that I, in turn, can make that kind of difference for my students.