In honor of Mr. Libby

I fancy myself a writer. There is absolutely no reason for doing so. I just decided to be a writer. I teach English to students on the Internet. One of my students, Marcelo, from Brazil, asked me to explain why I had become a writer. I was stuck! What does it take to be a writer? I couldn't give him an answer that made any sense. The flippant answer was all it takes is a pencil and a piece paper. But that didn't sound like a fair answer to a legitimate question, so I told him I would give the answer at our next class. What follows is that answer.
While a student (and I use that expression loosely) at Brewer High School in Brewer, Maine, I was routinely called to the Guidance Office where Ms Curran would tell me that I was not working up to my potential, that I was at risk of being held back, and that I would not graduate with my class. She was correct, of course, and as a result I failed Junior English and was required to take both Junior and Senior English the following year. This would be difficult under any conditions, but there was a tricky bit of fate at work. On the first day of my Senior year I was assigned to Mr. Libby's home room. For those who are unfamiliar with Homeroom, this is where each student starts the day, receives announcements, and is counted for attendance for the day. On this first day of classes I was given my class schedule for the school year. The scheduling gods, for whatever sinister reasons, had assigned me to Mr. Libby not only for homeroom, but for Junior English, Senior English and for my only study period. Of the seven class periods in the day, I was to be in with Mr. Libby for four of them, three of which were consecutive.
Having to take both Junior and Senior English in the same year placed a tremendous strain on my ability to fake my way through. Having Mr. Libby in four out of seven class periods each day made it impossible to slide through and ditch classes. It seemed that at last the academic powers had caught up with me and I was actually going to have to do some school work. But the real kicker was that I was now responsible for reading books and writing reports on these books. Twelve books for Junior English and 14 books for Senior English. I was being required to both read and write a report on 26 books in one school year. And to complicate matters further, I was required to do these reports for the same teacher.
I was to find out only after completing High School and enlisting in the Navy that I was essentially blind in my left eye do to an astigmatism. I was unable to see words in the correct order. So it is enough to say that I didn't read any books, or anything else for that matter during school. But I did complete 26 book reports during my Senior year. I would go to the library and find the books that hadn't been signed out for over a year believing that if they had not been signed out no one else would be writing a report on those books. I would read the dust cover and maybe the first and last pages of the book and then create a complete four page synopsis of the book from my mind. I would sign out the books and keep them out until Mr. Libby graded my reports. That way he would not be able to go the library to check my work. My God, I was clever!
Mr. Libby was a very good teacher and a very compassionate man. As a good teacher he held me to very high standards of behavior and compliance with the expectations of the classes. As a compassionate man, he knew that I was not reading any of the books I wrote about in my reports. But he accepted my reports anyway and graded them for content, grammar, and spelling, knowing full well that I had not read the books. I know that now, but at the time I was sure that I was getting away with the biggest hoax in the school. It wasn't until Graduation Day that he stopped me in the parking lot and told me, in a very calm but serious tone, that he would very much like to read the books I had written the reports about, and that it was a shame that a God given talent was being wasted on me.
I graduated in the class of 1966 from Brewer High School and went immediately into the service. While in the Navy, I was fitted with glasses and was, for first time, able to read the words in the order they were placed on the page. I was able to go on to earn a Masters Degree in Education and recently retired as a Guidance Counselor. I have just had my first work of fiction published, a short story entitled Hadley's Cafe. I can't help but to think that Mr. Libby would be sure that I stole it from the dust jacket of someone else's book. And who could blame him. I don't know if he lives today. I hope so. And I hope he is still inspiring students to be creative while complying with the expectations of their school. I would like him to know that I did go on to write and that his influences on me were not wasted, and neither are my talents, limited as they may be.