I’d definitely want to see Mr. Field. He was the Poetry Club sponsor in junior high, and I attended his club all the way until my senior year of high school. I actually considered him a very dear friend and a great confidant. Probably one of the only people that actually encouraged me to write.
Then I’d want to see Mr. Eckstein. He was my history teacher for two years, and Humanities teacher for one. An excellent teacher, all around.
Then I’d go see Gabe, my drama teacher.
Then The Verge, the art teacher. Awesome old hippie. He used to let me hang out in the clay room and make stuff during lunch period, even though I didn’t have room in my schedule to take his class. I made half a set of Lord of the Rings chess figurines that semester. He said I was the only student in a long time to bother with miniatures.
I might or might not go see Shaffy – I mean, Ms. Schafchuk, my senior year English teacher. She was just happy to have someone in class that wasn’t afraid of literature.
I’d avoid my junior year Chemistry teacher like the plague. He was insane. He failed the Valedictorian. I took a test in his class, my two friends and I had all the same answers. James got a 47%, I got a 17%, Stoner got a 23%. I dropped the class and took Anatomy instead. I think he’s been fired since.
Oh, and I’d avoid my Anatomy teacher too… she was a devout Christian, and literally taught Evolution with a “but we know what really happened” disclaimer.