My high school history teacher died last week from cancer. Apparently he was teaching the day before he died. That how much he loved his job. And we, his students, loved him. I adored him. He was a fun teacher, a great storyteller, irreverent, & kind.

I was the kid who didn’t like to be called on. He figured that out & let me be but also made me feel included. His classroom was a refuge for me. I have memories of sitting there by myself (not sure now where I was supposed to be.) He’d bring me coffee from the teachers lounge.

Class projects included carving pumpkins or dressing up as an evil historical figure for Halloween.

He wrote my letters of rec for college (I wish I knew what they said). In my first year of college, he was my pen pal. Looking back now I’m wowed that’s he cared to take time to write me on a regular basis.

A few years ago, I looked him up and wrote him to thank him and let him know what a difference he made in my life. I’m glad I did. If there is a teacher who supported you, pushed you to do better, inspired you, let them know. Thank you for everything, Mr. Z.