alright then... Here we go. I received an email last week from my college friend, Brian. Brian and I both attended Michigan Tech University near the cold, frozen-over lakes of upper Michigan. Brian mentioned to me that he is writing a book which is scheduled for release in late 2006. I am looking forward to picking up my copy.

When Brian mentioned that he was writing a book, my mind went back to my years, shortly after Michigan Tech, when I wanted to put my life story on paper. I still think my life story would make a great book. Some people would probably believe that it was fiction as opposed to reality. I don't even consider myself to be a good story teller. But some of the stories from my somewhat sorted past come to life all by themselves.

Anyway, I am eager to read Brian's book. And I very tempted to begin work on my life's story. I think I'll start with my seemingly normal childhood. Many people don't realize this, but I actually was very stable (and for the most part, like everyone else). Sure, I had my unique quirks, but who didn't? I remember, one time in the 4th grade, I broke out into tears because I had to resign from the Safety Patrol team. I was the only 5th grader in my classroom that was invited to be apart of such an elite group of students.

At Lemasters Elementary, being a Safety Patrol meant that you were somebody important. Don't get me wrong, I knew I was somebody special. I just don't think many other people, besides my family, realized it. For some strange reason, only certain students in a particular class taught by the teacher who was over the Safety Patrols were asked to be Safety Patrols. I wasn't in that class. I suspect that the school considered her class to be the better of the 5th graders. There was another 5th grade class taught by another teacher. I think her class was considered to be the not-so-good 5th graders. And then there was my class. My class was actually split down the middle. Half of us were 5th graders. And the other half was 4th graders - go figure. I think we were considered the "left overs."

I didn't mind though. My class was taught by the coolest teacher in the whole school, Mr. Fogerson. He was cool on so many levels. First, he was a male. Who ever heard of a male elementary school teacher? And then, he was just cool for the sake of being cool. He was always finding ways to motivate students to do their best and finding alternative ways to learning.

Anyway, back to the story. My mom was taking my brother and me to school at the time before she went to work. She wasn't trying to leave any early than what she had to. Thus, I wasn't able to get to school as early as I needed to perform my Safety Patrol duties. I wasn't devastated because I wouldn't be able to participate. I was already privileged at the opportunity to serve. The teacher over the Safety Patrols, however, gave me a stern talking to as if I were letting down the world by resigning. I couldn't take that at 10 years of age. So, one day, shortly thereafter, I broke out in tears. I just couldn't help it. I could not stop crying. Imagine my embarrassment. Thankfully, my hero, Mr. Fogerson, was there to see about me. He kindly escorted me to the coat room and asked me what was wrong. I didn't know why I couldn't stop crying. He figured it out though. What a guy!?!

Mr. Fogerson is probably the best teacher I've ever had. He really encouraged me to be the best at whatever I do. He laughed with me when I laughed. He created an environment where I wanted to succeed. He helped me try new things that I knew I wasn't good at (like basketball and kickball). He helped me up (after I fell several times during kickball). And gave me the courage to try again. I need to send this man a thank you card. I think owe him a lot.

More stories to come...

Kevin J.