I pressed on the water tap, I wasn't that thirsty really, but I just really wanted the water to hit my eyes directly. I desperately needed to wake up. Mr. Spencer was already inside and he doesn't allow students to come in after him. But I was Egyptian, an exception can always be made, and besides, Mr.Spencer and I were cool, and I took advantage of that when I needed it. But If I fall asleep in his class, that's just utter disrespect. It happened before, but I wasn't going to let this happen again.
I entered the rich-smelling history class and headed directly to my seat behind Marlon, and sat down. The room wasn't air-conditioned, so most of the school year it was cold. History was first period, and the room was in this corner of the school, that the sunlight, when it comes out, enters the room at the end of the class, mostly blocked by the big trees outside the windows.So the room was always dim-lit, and we weren't that interested in lamps. The room looked old, and primitive, as if Mr Spencer meant it for us to discuss history in a medieval atmosphere, and medievel history was indeed part of our curriculum.Portraits of historical celebrities made the walls almost invisible and a Western-Civilization timeline banner was on the back wall. You can smell the watered grass and fallen leaves from the trees outside.
My eyes are still wet , I did this water tap thing mostly everyday. But, still I am dying for some sleep. I wish I had some coffee to wake me up so I can keep up with Mr. Spencer. But what really always helped me to stay awake was the fact that the seats in Mr.Spencer's room were incredibl uncomfortable for sitting or even for sleeping.
Paul Spencer, my history teacher, was this tall bald man with light brown eyes and stout figure. He was a lot like House, the lead character in the series with the same name. He actually looked like him a bit, facially. He was hilarious , and he picked on most of us ferociously, especially Nelson in the front. Nelson knew a lot and he was kinda well-informed but he had ego, the annoying type, and Mr.Spencer always tried to attenuate that by picking on him more than any of us. He picked on me when I was late or caught asleep in class. I don't remember him getting angry ever, just the usual " shut up" and " zip it" and " shhhhhhh" and " knock it offfff!" . The only time I recall he got angry was when he went ballistic on my buddy Marlon. He told us he got a documentary about the Nazi Concentration camps that he wanted to show us. By the way, we were not studying that part yet but it was just for enlightenment. So Marlon goes like " ahh, sweeet!" . Paul Spencer got red and just screamed at him : " What do you think is " Sweet" about that Mr. Marlon? what is so sweet about people being tortured and gassed and burned in bonfires?"
Mr. Spencer told history like how it's meant to be told, like a story. He simplified the most complicated historical terms of politics and economy like it was a piece of cake. The class was about western Civilization, from Ancient Greece, to the Roman Empire, the medieval times, Christian Europe, The Renaissance, and the Industrial Revolution. We specifically studied all the kings of France and England from the time of the French Occupation of England by William the Bastard in 1066 A.D. In Mr. Spencer's class , we understood history and digested it. We breathed it and lived it , and watched it. We understood how civilizations rise , and then how they deteriorate and crumble to ashes to make way for a following civilization that has more reasons to survive at the moment than the preceding one. The new civilization learns the arts and the sciences , the religious life and the political and economical styles of the old civilizations and decides which it will assimilate and which it will throw away , temporarily or permanently. He taught us to never trust just one source when it came to anything, particularly history, not even himself. He encouraged us to read or watch documentaries on the History channel. He would strike up an argument with one of the students, even if he agreed with the student, to train him to strongly defend his point and use critical thinking to prove it. History with Paul Spencer was His-Story, and Her-Story.
We had a great friendship Mr. Spencer and myself. He was responsible of attendance in the morning and I knew where his office was. Actually, I was friends with everyone in the administration, Mrs. Fenigan, Mrs. Delorenzo, Mr. Aushburn, and Mr. Straessle, the principal. I would go to Mr. Spencer's office in the morning where his kids sat waiting for his lady friend to take them with her kids to their elementary school. We would chat a lot about the school, the curriculum. And we would discuss current affairs and I would tell him about the Egyptian culture and the Muslim religion. He would bring me up in class when one of three things came up: Islam, Egypt, and the French language. A few times I ask him to let me step to front center and talk about the Muslim religion and clarify controversial matters for the boys. He once told me that it was very educating for the students in his class to have a colleague who was a decent, devout Egyptian Muslim that could also speak French and challenge Catholic high students in math and chemistry, and that it would alter their perspective about that part of the world for the rest of their lives. Not just my colleagues in history class, and not my colleagues in all the classes at Catholic High, but all the students at Catholic who encountered such a colleague even in the hallways. He also made it a habit to ask me about the correct pronunciation of a French term, Brother Richard my french teacher told him I pronounced the french tongue well.
I got hold of some Skype credit and looked his home phone number up and called him. The second I heard his voice I realised how much I missed the man. I asked him about his life and his kids and the school. He told me Mr. Moran, the oldest English teacher at Catholic who taught for a splendid 42 years, wrote a book about his long experience teaching at Catholic, and I expressed a dire desire to get the book, but I didn't know how to acquire it. The call was made two years ago and I miss him greatly.
Dedicated to Paul Spencer,
31st January, 2013
I entered the rich-smelling history class and headed directly to my seat behind Marlon, and sat down. The room wasn't air-conditioned, so most of the school year it was cold. History was first period, and the room was in this corner of the school, that the sunlight, when it comes out, enters the room at the end of the class, mostly blocked by the big trees outside the windows.So the room was always dim-lit, and we weren't that interested in lamps. The room looked old, and primitive, as if Mr Spencer meant it for us to discuss history in a medieval atmosphere, and medievel history was indeed part of our curriculum.Portraits of historical celebrities made the walls almost invisible and a Western-Civilization timeline banner was on the back wall. You can smell the watered grass and fallen leaves from the trees outside.
My eyes are still wet , I did this water tap thing mostly everyday. But, still I am dying for some sleep. I wish I had some coffee to wake me up so I can keep up with Mr. Spencer. But what really always helped me to stay awake was the fact that the seats in Mr.Spencer's room were incredibl uncomfortable for sitting or even for sleeping.
Paul Spencer, my history teacher, was this tall bald man with light brown eyes and stout figure. He was a lot like House, the lead character in the series with the same name. He actually looked like him a bit, facially. He was hilarious , and he picked on most of us ferociously, especially Nelson in the front. Nelson knew a lot and he was kinda well-informed but he had ego, the annoying type, and Mr.Spencer always tried to attenuate that by picking on him more than any of us. He picked on me when I was late or caught asleep in class. I don't remember him getting angry ever, just the usual " shut up" and " zip it" and " shhhhhhh" and " knock it offfff!" . The only time I recall he got angry was when he went ballistic on my buddy Marlon. He told us he got a documentary about the Nazi Concentration camps that he wanted to show us. By the way, we were not studying that part yet but it was just for enlightenment. So Marlon goes like " ahh, sweeet!" . Paul Spencer got red and just screamed at him : " What do you think is " Sweet" about that Mr. Marlon? what is so sweet about people being tortured and gassed and burned in bonfires?"
Mr. Spencer told history like how it's meant to be told, like a story. He simplified the most complicated historical terms of politics and economy like it was a piece of cake. The class was about western Civilization, from Ancient Greece, to the Roman Empire, the medieval times, Christian Europe, The Renaissance, and the Industrial Revolution. We specifically studied all the kings of France and England from the time of the French Occupation of England by William the Bastard in 1066 A.D. In Mr. Spencer's class , we understood history and digested it. We breathed it and lived it , and watched it. We understood how civilizations rise , and then how they deteriorate and crumble to ashes to make way for a following civilization that has more reasons to survive at the moment than the preceding one. The new civilization learns the arts and the sciences , the religious life and the political and economical styles of the old civilizations and decides which it will assimilate and which it will throw away , temporarily or permanently. He taught us to never trust just one source when it came to anything, particularly history, not even himself. He encouraged us to read or watch documentaries on the History channel. He would strike up an argument with one of the students, even if he agreed with the student, to train him to strongly defend his point and use critical thinking to prove it. History with Paul Spencer was His-Story, and Her-Story.
We had a great friendship Mr. Spencer and myself. He was responsible of attendance in the morning and I knew where his office was. Actually, I was friends with everyone in the administration, Mrs. Fenigan, Mrs. Delorenzo, Mr. Aushburn, and Mr. Straessle, the principal. I would go to Mr. Spencer's office in the morning where his kids sat waiting for his lady friend to take them with her kids to their elementary school. We would chat a lot about the school, the curriculum. And we would discuss current affairs and I would tell him about the Egyptian culture and the Muslim religion. He would bring me up in class when one of three things came up: Islam, Egypt, and the French language. A few times I ask him to let me step to front center and talk about the Muslim religion and clarify controversial matters for the boys. He once told me that it was very educating for the students in his class to have a colleague who was a decent, devout Egyptian Muslim that could also speak French and challenge Catholic high students in math and chemistry, and that it would alter their perspective about that part of the world for the rest of their lives. Not just my colleagues in history class, and not my colleagues in all the classes at Catholic High, but all the students at Catholic who encountered such a colleague even in the hallways. He also made it a habit to ask me about the correct pronunciation of a French term, Brother Richard my french teacher told him I pronounced the french tongue well.
I got hold of some Skype credit and looked his home phone number up and called him. The second I heard his voice I realised how much I missed the man. I asked him about his life and his kids and the school. He told me Mr. Moran, the oldest English teacher at Catholic who taught for a splendid 42 years, wrote a book about his long experience teaching at Catholic, and I expressed a dire desire to get the book, but I didn't know how to acquire it. The call was made two years ago and I miss him greatly.
Dedicated to Paul Spencer,
31st January, 2013
