My Favorite High School Teacher by Audree Larson

To be the advisor of the school newspaper, Mr. Art Saldana must have drawn the short end of the faculty stick in the English Department at Linn-Mar High School. Semester after semester, he did his best to corral us wayward reporters, photographers, and cartoonists into publishing something consequential. However, our ideas of what was the news often got him sent to the principals office in our defense.

I felt investigative and brave.

One afternoon, we walked into English literature, where the lights had been turned off and the blinds drawn. We took our seats in uncomfortable silence. From the shadows, Art lifted the needle and carefully placed it onto 12 inches of swirling vinyl. A man's voice from the great beyond spoke about a momentous decree called the Emancipation Proclamation. This man had a dream that one day our nation would rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed; free at last.

I felt small and yet part of something bigger.

In AP English, he taught us how to form a thought and then make it compelling. I usually applied myself, but it was high school and I had crushes to daydream about. So, when it came to handing in this particular paper, I rushed it, figuring Art wouldn't notice. I got my paper back with two tiny words scratched in the margin, "So what?"

I felt called out and called upon to do better.

Then there was the time in classics class when we were to discuss Shakespeare out loud while sitting in a circle facing each other - this introvert's worst nightmare. One of the cool kids spouted, "Hey, Audree, you never say anything, tell us what you think about it." My heart stopped. Just as I was about to black out, Art responded, "She doesn't need to say what she thinks. I already know what she thinks!"

I felt relief and understood.

Last summer another high school class reunion rolled up on us. I hadn't planned on going to the Saturday morning school tour, but I overheard a list of teachers names that would be attending and Art was one of them. I couldn't believe it. I had heard he had moved to Chicago with his family. For years, I tried to find him, but that was pre-internet and after a while, I gave up.

My friends encouraged me to go, find my favorite teacher, and tell him what he meant to me. Plus, our classmate, Marion Mayor Nick AbouAssaly, promised donuts. That morning, as I was perusing the selection of sweet deep-fried pastries, I overheard a familiar voice in conversation behind me. I turned around to see a rock star. 

"Mr. Saldana?" I eked out like a backstage groupie, "My name is Audree? You were my teacher? Every semester, sometimes three times a day?..." He looked at me like maybe I was nuts.

"I walked on crutches all through high school?..." It was starting to come back to him.

As Art and I strolled side-by-side with hands clasped behind our backs, passing rows of long forgotten lockers, we caught up on each other's lives. I learned that he and his wife had moved back to Cedar Rapids years ago. It turns out, they live just two blocks from me! In fact, I have been walking right past their house for years and didn't know it. 

A few hallways later, Mr. Nick George, also a fan favorite of the English Department, joined us. The two of them had remained good friends; their mutual respect was palpable. When the tour was over, the three of us made a sincere plan to meet at my photography studio sometime soon and then go to lunch; which we did. When in my space that day, I asked if I could take a few photos. They obliged. After I sent them their photos, Art wrote:

"Thank you for the photos. Obviously, my photos are better than Nick's. I keep telling him I'm handsome and he's not, but he has a hearing problem. The photos of the two of us made me think of Simon and Garfunkel's song 'Old Friends'. A sad song, but a good song."

We continue to meet for lunch or coffee now and again. This rich experience leads me to encourage others to reach out to their favorite teacher. Sure, you have your life and they have theirs, but do it anyway. Don't be surprised when they slide over on the park bench to make room for an old friend.