A Life Lost, A Lesson Reaffirmed

COVID-19 is teaching us many things. It’s also reminding us of lessons that we might not have considered during brighter, more carefree times. Like that caring is 100% essential. For your loved ones. For your community. For those in peril. For what you do. And for what you want to do.

The pandemic’s toll now includes a former teacher of mine. Bob will be missed for many reasons, but one looms large: he taught me to care.

Hearing the sad news of Bob’s passing brought me back to his chemistry class. Throughout the year, my classmates and I watched in various stages of amusement as chalk dust mushroomed around him whenever Bob started his lesson plan. What he was trying to explain is lost to time for me, but those experiences left an imprint. With his quick pace, Bob was doing three things at once while at the chalkboard: write, engage, and teach.

I did not major in chemistry, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t leave Bob’s chemistry class without learning something. Each day he showed up, and he was present. Not thinking about his next class or the next day – Bob’s focus was on us and delivering his lesson plan. This view of mine has sharpened after teaching for two years after college. To be sure, most students will remember a teacher that shows up and cares far more than the intricacies of a lesson plan or theory (note: most). And showing up and caring were what Bob brought in spades.

My other memories of Bob resonate in a similar way. To his lasting credit, Bob adeptly led a sex-ed class – this one a mix of boys and girls from local high schools. How he managed to remain calm and focused amidst a sea of smirks and chuckles is beyond me. Just another example of Bob’s care and devotion. And when a classmate of mine faced a low point, Bob and I spoke several times about the mitigation plan. He could not have been more welcoming or supportive during this period; his presence alone added a considerable boost and brought forth relief to someone needing a bit more care.

It’s my great loss that I did not share with Bob the impact he had on me. Or how my memories of his caring behavior have helped ease the waves of emotion that his death and the global pandemic have wrought. Reading the testimonials others have shared from his life brings comfort – Bob’s reach went far and wide.

Now that he’s moved to a new classroom, Bob’s unceasing care is his legacy – and a reaffirmation of a timeless lesson. In recognition of his devotion to others, my focus is even more on what he wrote years ago in the high school yearbook: “The definition of a successful life is one of service to others.”

Thank you, Bob. Rest in peace.