Once Upon a Time...

There was a 13 year old girl. On the first day of school in sixth grade, she noticed a new teacher among the junior high students. He was an older man, with silver hair. He wore a dress shirt, tie, and slacks, and stood taller than all during the gym assembly's pledge of allegiance. She noticed the way he held his fist to his side, and immediately pegged him as a Marine.

Sure enough, she was right. When she got to his class that morning, the dry-witted teacher proceeded to tell the class he was their worst nightmare. Then he spent the hour recounting his long life, his long marriage (41 years this year!), his service as a pilot in the Marines, eventually rising tot he rank of Major, and how he wound up teaching social studies in a Catholic middle school.

The teacher had a no-nonsense way of teaching history. Even though he had to deal with the textbooks provided to him, he rarely used them. Instead he lectured, telling things the books never dared to think on and correcting biased notions. In addition to his regular duties, he also persuaded the principal to place framed copies of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence in the main stairwell for all to see and be reminded of daily. He wore his dress uniform every Veteran's Day, and loved to show off his officer's sword. And he always seemed to be the only teacher capable of fixing the copier.

In eighth grade they began to study American history, and his passion for the subject became clearer than ever. It was an election year, and tensions were high between the children of staunch Republicans and the next generation of neo-hippies. In every issue, he urged us all to evaluate everything according to the precepts of our Religion and the government outlined in the Constitution. Nothing, from the Civil War to Women's Suffrage, went unexamined by the microscope mind of the Major.

In addition, the private conversations they had, during days when the class was finished early, were things she would treasure for years to come. She learned of the teacher's admiration for Winston Churchill, the story of how he met his wife, and how he had been present at the fall of Saigon. Her respect for him and the convictions he held only grew.

For most of the students it was just another class. But not for the girl. For her, it forever changed the way she thought.

Major Whitten, I am forever grateful to you. You turned a complacent young girl into an active participant in her nation, her education, and her life. To put it mildly, I am in your everlasting debt.

Thank you.