Mister M

.
In Those Days, my family returned from Europe and settled at the base of the San Bernadino mountains of California, Zip 93550. It was 1967 then, and atop that mountain was a little known air defense installation where my father worked. We rented a house in the community of 8300 where I attended high school. Today, 93550 has a population well over 160k and has at least 3 public high schools.

In Those Days, there was corporal punishment in public schools. For those that were not around then, a teacher was authorized to discipline students with physical force without fear of going to prison. And, this is my story.

I feared Mr. M as did most everyone in the school. He taught Mechanical Drawing (a precursor to architect and engineering). He hung a wooden paddle on his desk which he used to beat (he called them swats) students into submission when they disobeyed. And those that got beat, then could autograph the paddle. I remembered him well, not so much for his attitude toward discipline, but for what he taught me.

Mr. M taught me the basics of blue printing and design, a skill which I use almost daily. Without any other training in the field, I designed, blue printed, and built my first room addition in 1978. From there, I designed a four-field Little League baseball complex that later became a public sports complex, and a multi-level home in the hills, various building projects at work, and the home I currently live in, including the Thought Dock itself. All from a single semester in Mr. M's class.

So, 43 years later, and 863 miles north of that 93550 town, I was having breakfast in Zip 97439, a small town of about 8500. I was with a group of church friends whom I knew little about. And during the "small talk," I overheard one man state that he once taught school. As it turned out, I realized it was Mr. M! For a brief period of his life, he lived and taught school, and the very (and only) class where I was beaten. How bizarre is that?

And to top things off, Mr. M kept his paddle as a trophy all these years. So, last night he brought the paddle to Bible Study to boast. And there it was. My name, etched among the list of the many others that paid his price.

Thanks Mr. M. Not for the beating, but for what you contributed to my life.
.