This is a bit of personal history, and as such, those of you only interested in angry ranting or political blather might not be interested.
Back in the day, I went to a very, very poor school, in a very poor part of Houston, Texas.
I was in a program called "Vanguard," which was a prototype of what became the "Magnet schools" program.
...Really, it was a way for the school system of the city to "fix" low test scores for poor schools - this was racist as hell, but true - by placing gifted and talented programs, with high-scoring smart white kids, in the worst ghetto schools they could, so that the white kids would bring up the schools' average test scores and they wouldn't lose funding.
That doesn't mean that the faculty was bad; just that they were used as cynically as possible by the school board.
In fact, one of the faculty members was, in my opinion, a GREAT teacher. Not a "good" teacher, a great one.
This particular gentleman was toweringly tall - 6'5" or 6" - and had a huge, booming voice, with which he corralled students into his class quickly and efficiently, and controlled the mess that always happens in the hallways in public schools at break times.
Now, the Vanguard program had block scheduling before it was cool; we had, basically, three classes a day, plus "homeroom."
Which meant that the World History teacher - subject of our discussion - had his students for two hours, every other day.
His class was simple in structure; at the beginning of each class, there was a quiz on the lecture from the previous class, followed by a lecture.
That was it. We almost never had any homework whatsoever from that class; in fact, the only homework I recall receiving from it was "it would behoove you to read these pages in the textbook, as they might be on the quiz, too." Repetitio est mater estudiorum - repetition is the mother of learning. Boy, did we hear that a lot. But it's true; if you need to teach history, make sure they know the names and dates; then tell them what it MEANS.
But unlike all the many, many classes that rely on homework to drive students absolutely insane yet fail utterly to teach them anything that they retain long-term, that World History class made an impression.
I know the origin of the word "sincere." (Cera in Italian is wax. Of the two grades of commercially available marble during the Middle Ages, the more affordable one would frequently crack; before selling a sculpture, many sculptors would cover the cracks with wax, to hide the cracks, and thus the grade of the marble, from the prospective buyers, who presumably would then be dismayed when, after a bit of sun, the wax melted away. "Sincere" evolved from "Sin cera," meaning without wax - and thus honest.)
I know how to make bronze castings using the "lost wax" method. (Sculpt something in wax. Cover it with wet clay, completely. let the clay dry, then fire it. The wax melts - sincerely - leaving behind a hollow ceramic mold into which molten bronze can be poured, creating a perfectly cast item.)
I know the three world-changing events that happened in the year 1453. (Moveable type - thanks, Gutenberg - the fall of the Byzantine Empire to the Ottoman Turks, thus ending Rome's power, and the end of the Hundred Years War when the French defeated the English at Castillon.)
I know those things, because that teacher gave us endlessly fascinating lectures, telling stories, really, to the class; stories explaining not only the names and dates, but why we should care about them, or at least find them interesting.
He was awe-inspiring. I remember once there was a kid in the back row of the class, who snuck in a snack of some kind, I think some peanuts. He went to fish out a peanut while the teacher was at the board, writing notes, and without turning or even looking around, the teacher waited until he was chewing and bellowed "I hope you choke!" We all thought that was really funny, except the sneaky snacker, who nearly did.
He inspired me.
That's the easiest way to put it.
When I post a blog, you may or may not agree with my conclusions, but I almost always arrive with a huge amount of research at my disposal, because, said he, "research is cheap. Being wrong can cost everything."
He most likely would have disliked a lot of my political stances, but I use things he taught me, daily.
Mr. Wayne C. Martin passed away on October 27th.
I never wrote him; never saw him, after I graduated high school, and haven't given him a thought in years.
But knowing that he's not there, not terrorizing platoons of teenagers into actually learning something useful...
...That's a tragic loss.
I am certain he has gone on to something better, but that notwithstanding, his loss is keenly felt indeed by myself, and I feel sure hundreds if not thousands of students that passed through his classrooms over the years and found inside a chance to see that school doesn't HAVE to be boring, or useless, in any way.
Mr. Martin, you will be sorely missed, indeed.
And I suppose that no greater tribute can really be given to a teacher, than to know that his students remember the things he taught.
I hope he knows that I do.
