THE CHALLENGE
Keeping up with a teacher who is on a completely different level.
When I was in Grade 5 at Lamont Elementary, I had the incredible experience of having my dad, Mr. Spady, as my teacher.
On April 1, 1987, he taught my most memorable lesson, and it involved a little-known explorer named Sloof Lirpa.
The lesson began with Mr. Spady informing his students that we would be taking notes on an explorer, Sloof Lirpa. Back in those days the classroom had two chalkboards at the front, and Mr. Spady started filling the first one, very quickly. We tried our best to keep up, but, for some reason, Mr. Spady’s pace was relentless.
... the polite raising of hands was replaced by a barely contained mutiny.
The first chalkboard filled quickly, followed by the second and, before we could catch up, he erased the first and continued. This was highly unusual, and he was writing so quickly that, of course, the grumblings started. At first, students politely raised their hands and asked if Mr. Spady could slow down.
“We don’t have time to slow down,” he said firmly. Again, highly unusual.
Mr. Spady continued to fill chalkboard after chalkboard, for a solid 45 minutes (in my Grade 5 brain it felt like three hours). By this time, the polite raising of hands was replaced by a barely contained mutiny. Students were calling out things like, “my hand hurts,” “even more!?” and “please make this stop.”
Very unlike his typical calm demeanour, Mr. Spady allowed the emotions of the class to rile him up and he was now demanding and unapologetic.
Nearing the end of the lesson, Mr. Spady stopped the class, had all of us put our pens/pencils down and gave us his full attention.
“This is the most important part of the lesson,” he said. “If there’s one thing you need to remember about this important explorer ...”
Speaking clearly and slowly, he delivered the final lesson as he wrote it on the board, at a normal pace this time.
“... upon Sloof Lirpa’s death, they wrote his name backwards on his tombstone—APRIL FOOLS.”
For approximately three seconds, absolute silence. Then, pandemonium. Laughter, anger and relief. I’m not sure I’ve seen a more satisfied look on my dad’s face as he witnessed the absolute gem he delivered upon us.
That memory has stuck with me in life and in teaching. Many years later, when I was teaching Grade 5, I got to teach the exact same lesson to my students, with the exact same result.
Priceless.
ILLUSTRATION BY ERIN SOLANO
