It was a fine night in the city as we sat down together. A rag tag group. B's father who was turning 80, a german exchange student and a chinese/german exchange student, B's friend P, B and her family and I, all sitting around a salad and lasagna and red glass goblets filled with water. We talked about travel and couchsurfing, about dumpster diving and experiences that were all unique and still universal.
The guests left and slowly and B and her husband L and I, were all that was left in the kitchen as the kids went to bed. More serious topics were broached, we skidded along the course of religion and atheism and into schools and education, into quantum physics and spirituality, health and diet. The clock ticked off the minutes and each time I thought the conversation was over we'd break onto another course that was worth exploring. Sometimes you have a teacher whose lessons you don't appreciate until years later, 12 or 13 in this case.
I champion education, but in fact, until College, I wasn't always the greatest student. I won't go into the specifics of things that I did or what my teachers did to help me, but I'll say that there are a few teachers from High School that I still visit, Mr. Brown and Mr. Baxter. I always knew I liked them, I always knew I respected them as teachers, and at times they did things that may even have appeared to not be very good teaching practices, but until tonight I had never really realized some of the things they had done for me, I don't even know if they realized it or if it was just instinct. Nevertheless, I am eternally thankful to them and as always to my parents who were extremely patient when I would, on occasion, get into what could have been serious trouble with lesser role models.
Thanks if you are reading this, you are part of the reason I am the man I have become.