The Boss

I had the advantage of always getting along with my teachers and professors. Some more than others, as the case usually goes. Some stand out as great teachers, others as mentors. I had the opportunity to work as a teacher’s assistant for one of these mentors. I would go in to work for him and before I graded the tests, I would sit in the chair in his office suite and we’d end up talking about the 60’s, man. He would tell me about Janis Joplin and Vietnam. He and my dad were about the same age, and I grew up in a house where 60’s music was what we listened to, 60’s television what we watched. And because there was a big mystery surrounding my parent’s lives during their “hippie days”, I always felt a special affinity to that era, and so he and I found some common ground there.

But it was more than that too. He was one of those teachers that genuinely cared about his students, who wanted to see them succeed, in the classroom and in life. I could tell him my goals and what I wanted to do with my life, and he would follow it up with a great amount of support and a healthy dose of reality. Sometimes he’d complain about this or that — but always the in pursuit of the right thing. He’d tell me his thoughts on school changes, and he’d hear my thoughts too. He would listen to me, and talk to me like like I was an adult, not just one of his students.

He’s been working at that school for years, and I’m sure he’s had several T.A.’s — most probably more devoted than I was to the discipline (and the work). But working for him did more for me than it did for him I would guess. My college years were full of a lot of hard things, and being able to walk in his office and know that for an hour or two every afternoon I could set aside my duties and responsibilities and just talk about things that maybe didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things was just what I needed. I like to think he knew that too. I like to think he knew that he had someone there that just needed to talk about Janis Joplin for a little bit to get her mind off of things. He didn’t have to do that — he was a busy man and many people respected him greatly for his work and the status he had in the community, but even so, he took time.

One time in particular, I walked in distressed about the season of life I’d found myself in. He didn’t put a lot of work on me that day, and for maybe two hours we talked; the 60’s of course but other things too. I needed it that day especially. I needed to come in with an expectation to work and instead just talk about other things. That office became a bit of an escape to me during that time; and even though it was a job, and he my boss, he was hospitable too. I always felt at home in that office, and he would always offer me coffee or any other treats they had on hand. 

I haven’t seen him in a good long while, now. He’s there though, working away, teaching, and I’m sure, listening to Jimi and Janis. I like to think he has another T.A. now who sits and talks to him as he takes vested interest in their life. I like to think his new T.A. is someone who appreciates the 60’s so he can give him or her his theory on music of that era, and perhaps get their mind off things for a while. Chances are he talks Janis even if it wasn’t received with the same enthusiasm as I often gave it. We need more people like him — more people who unapologetically talk and expect you to listen. More people who wish success on the person in the chair across from them. We need people who complain about the right things, who can see when someone hurts, and who can fill the hardest of times with quaint memories of good talks and a cup of coffee. People who can do that are rare, but when you find them, you typically need them more than you realize. He was that — he’s still that. I’m thankful for him, for without him as my boss those three years, and without all those talks of what was so mundane, I’m not sure where I would have ended up.