Out of order of what I was otherwise going to write, I just have to write something superseding everything else because I just read the essay ramble of one of my former students, David Livingstone..

It’s not just that David was one of my bestest students in those days of several good years teaching at John Muir High School in Pasadena. I was upped almost immediately from teaching Proficiency English, to save the school’s accreditation, to teaching AP Senior English.

I had the best of the best, including David, and his older brother Evan.

I’ve written extensively in bits and pieces about those few glorious early years.

Someday, maybe, if I live long enough, I’ll fill in the blanks.

But, the reason I’m writing this now is because recently David discovered me by blog and wrote back to tell me so. He’s teaching in Czechia (where’s that? It’s over there on the map), reconnected after lo these many, and invited me to drop by his class whenever I’m in the neighborhood.

The internet says he’s on the staff at Palacky University, Olomouc, Czech Republic, Faculty Member, English and American Studies, interests include Shakespeare, Modernism, and American Folk Music, horror literature, horror cinema, gothic studies.

People branch out after I knew them.

And just today (yesterday, actually) he sent me a link to an essay he wrote which mentions me in passing. Kristina helped me find it and I just read it and WOW!

Not only is it the saga of an incredible life, his, his history of his education over the years, but it is the kind of writing one hopes to read.

It’s so much like me, except more extensively exotic, with the same sense of humor and the same passionate intensity, sometimes me exactly word for word, that my responses resonate in all directions.

First, I guess, is joy. The joy of reaffirmation, that there’s hope for the world.

It’s the joy of realizing yet again that my own life has not been wasted. My secret master plan, of saving the world by educating it, is working.

It’s the self-satisfaction of not having to focus the spotlight on me, that my students have gone on to eclipse me, and that’s as it should be.

Parents should and often do raise their children to be better than themselves (I’m an example), have better lives, greater opportunities, in that better world we all want.

The same with teachers and their students.

I’m driven back to search my archives that survived the fires and floods. I think, if I remember correctly, among the notes and letters to and from, the copies of student papers with my notes, comments, suggestions, my letters of recommendation to colleges for admission and scholarships, David Livingstone is there.

What? you say. You have and have kept all that? Are you a hoarder, a pack rat?

Yes.

I want to hold in my hands that part of my life so I can re-live it.

The essay I just read, that almost brought me to tears of joy, I say “almost” so people won’t think me maudlin, was on his list of two other entries much longer.

I like reading long works. I like being overwhelmed.

Kristina will show me how to call them up, and I look forward to many happy hours of reading.

There’s a groundswell across the earth. People read and think and say so.

When I’m in Czechia (I looked it up on the map), I’ll drop by David’s class to say I knew him when and point with pride.

I don’t recognize him from his picture. He might recognize me because people say I haven’t changed, but I don’t believe them.

It’s not Goodbye, Mr. Chips, a bittersweet farewell from a former age, a teacher retiring, one last visit to the empty classroom. I read the book and saw the movie.

No, it’s hello to the future.

David, you’re the future, and I’m still here to see it.

I’ll drop by and take you to lunch.

(To listen to an interesting radio interview with David, click his photo below…)