What he taught me

I recently introduced my kids to my American history teacher from high school. “Kids, this is Mr. Black. He taught me…,” then I stalled. What had he taught me?

Mr. Black was more than a history teacher. I mean, that’s what the schedule said when we mutually met in room 115 during 2nd block, but he was more than that. My pause was the sense that ‘History’ didn’t reflect what he taught me and to introduce him to my legacy in such a way seemed reductionist, disrespectful even, but I couldn’t articulate exactly what it was. Then I remembered.

He taught me parallelism in writing.

He taught me how to make a concise argument.

He taught me what making bad decisions feels like.

He taught me what happens to that last swallow of coffee when it sits in a mug for a week.

He taught me how to influence authority.

He taught me to use a drum sander.

He taught me to know a principled fight from a selfish fight.

He taught me that history was real and impacted me daily.

He taught me the art of asking really good questions.

He taught me that I was smarter than my work demonstrated.

He taught me that authority was not the same as leadership.

He taught me that critical thinking was the only kind of thinking worth doing.

He taught me to thoughtfully decide and humbly lead.

He also taught me American History 1865 - Present.

This is what good teachers do. They use the platform and the 75 minutes they’re given every other day to pull the best out of those in their stewardship. I don’t remember how the Depression connects to the Vietnam War, but I do remember that there is likely a connection and that if I question honestly, think critically, work diligently and communicate clearly, I can lead humbly.

Thanks, Bryant. I’m honored to introduce you to my kids.