One of my greatest mentors passed away last month. And as sad as it was for his family -- and myself, it was also eye-opening for me. In my head, this man, my fifth grade teacher, and one of my greatest role models in school, was unstoppable. He was a military man, with a stern, no-nonsense policy, a kind heart, a strict classroom, and a penchant for making his students want to learn.
It broke my heart to hear of him passing away -- especially to hear something as malicious as cancer had taken him. Though it was no surprise he'd fought a long, hard battle with it before finally succumbing. He was a brilliant, inspirational man. And, as an adult, I never told him that. (Also, I'm sure I never told him as a child either.)
His passing truly opened my eyes. Who else had I also not told of their impact on my young life? Of my other mentors and teachers, who had the greatest impact, and who did I feel needed to know.
At a point when I was extremely impressionable, Mr. Mielnicki put his stamp on my life. He opened my eyes to worlds much greater than what I knew, all the while showing how large of a difference I could make while staying within the community. From a rural town like Fort McCoy, he took all his students to the moon with his Young Astronauts program -- a program unmatched by any school or organization, and taught us the importance of exploring the vast unknown of our universe.
This was a man who loved his family, his country, and his career as an educator. A man who took his calling seriously and taught his pupils cautiously, but strongly, to excel, set lofty goals, and obtain them.
I am sorry I never got an opportunity to let him know the impact he made on my life. But the loss of his powerful, luminous presence in this world has shed some light on my feeling compelled to write my remaining mentors, who are also probably reaching a grey age, and let them know their impact on my life -- as I often wonder if most teachers ever get that kind of confirmation.
I'm off now to search for addresses for those mentors I long to track down. Which include, K. Butterfield; my gifted teacher from first grade until eighth, Mary Sanford (Rivera); my elementary music teacher, Russell Murphy; my high school chemistry/physics teacher, and Pete Smith; my college music/humanities teacher.
It broke my heart to hear of him passing away -- especially to hear something as malicious as cancer had taken him. Though it was no surprise he'd fought a long, hard battle with it before finally succumbing. He was a brilliant, inspirational man. And, as an adult, I never told him that. (Also, I'm sure I never told him as a child either.)
His passing truly opened my eyes. Who else had I also not told of their impact on my young life? Of my other mentors and teachers, who had the greatest impact, and who did I feel needed to know.
At a point when I was extremely impressionable, Mr. Mielnicki put his stamp on my life. He opened my eyes to worlds much greater than what I knew, all the while showing how large of a difference I could make while staying within the community. From a rural town like Fort McCoy, he took all his students to the moon with his Young Astronauts program -- a program unmatched by any school or organization, and taught us the importance of exploring the vast unknown of our universe.
This was a man who loved his family, his country, and his career as an educator. A man who took his calling seriously and taught his pupils cautiously, but strongly, to excel, set lofty goals, and obtain them.
I am sorry I never got an opportunity to let him know the impact he made on my life. But the loss of his powerful, luminous presence in this world has shed some light on my feeling compelled to write my remaining mentors, who are also probably reaching a grey age, and let them know their impact on my life -- as I often wonder if most teachers ever get that kind of confirmation.
I'm off now to search for addresses for those mentors I long to track down. Which include, K. Butterfield; my gifted teacher from first grade until eighth, Mary Sanford (Rivera); my elementary music teacher, Russell Murphy; my high school chemistry/physics teacher, and Pete Smith; my college music/humanities teacher.
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