Age 13

“So what… you’re gonna teach us how to spell your name?”

I was stunned. My new grade seven teacher had just stopped my friend Angus Morrison two seconds into his autobiography to the class.

“Why not start with what you’re going to talk about instead of ‘My name is Angus Morrison’ Capture my attention with something interesting… try again.”

I have to say, Mr. Geiger is the most unconventional teacher I have ever had. From that first paragraph he made us write, I knew I was finally in for an academic challenge in school. He pushed us to not necessarily use hard words, but to use the right words. Also, he pushed us to be philosophical and appealing to the reader / listener, for he graded us by asking what the class thought we should be graded. Some students rapped their poems on Greek Vases all the way to an A+. Like… literally, played a beat in the background, and rapped their poem.

This was therefore a year rife with personal growth for me; a year when I realized I wanted deeply to contribute to this society of ours. Yes, those were words frequently used during class…

I was also put into an accelerated math program, studying at the grade eight level and was entered in a national math competition of which I got 100% on and received a plaque for it. I played on the basketball and volleyball team that won first place at local tournaments. A girl asked me out but I liked her best friend. I’ve made new friends, ones more compatible with who I thought I was. In general, things went well.

Pretty much, I dare say this was the year that jump-started my life to this point. Back in grade three, when I saw my sister graduate, I saw that there was an award for the top all-round male and female. I promised myself that I would win that (the male one). Sure enough, after I graduated, the biggest trophy the school offered sat resting above the fireplace in my home.

So how was this Mr. Geiger so influential? Well, he didn’t just make us write. He made us enact Greek wars, make up our own plays in drama class, ask us to guess how many stars are in the sky, and lent me a book on calculus (and I pretended to get it). He was the first teacher to send me out into the hall for being bad in class. He taught in a way that challenged who I was, and in turn challenged me to become who I wanted to be.

I would leave Crescent Park Elementary with fond memories. My childhood was built there… I knew there would no longer be candy for me if I picked up garbage on the school grounds (which actually is kind of sad). I had heard that from now on, school grades counted, and that I wouldn’t be with one teacher for the entire day.

Summer passed in anticipation for bigger, scarier things to come. But as my grandpa reminded me, I’m like a sponge… I must soak up everything I can while I’m still dry. I think he meant young, but I got his point. My bike trips in the summer were not to the candy store, but instead to the library to borrow such books as Wilderness Suvival, Weapons, and How to Improve Your Memory. If I remember correctly, I made myself a weapon so that I would be able to survive if I got lost in the wild. It was a bow and arrow made from maple, my shoelace, bamboo sticks, and badminton birdie feathers. Summer flew by quite quickly…

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