When I was a high school senior, I took like three math classes. I don't know why, I must have been deranged. The same teacher taught all three classes. He was your typical early '80s high school math teacher. With dark hair and a mustache, he kind of looked like Burt Reynolds, if Reynolds was not quite as dashing, dressed in a way that attracted chalk and mumbled odd sayings that seemed to amuse only himself. The classes were tough, we all thought they were and, as teenagers do, we made fun of him outside of class. It wasn't a class you could act up in -- he had a bit of a temper -- so we grumbled about our teacher at lunch or in the hallways. I can still see him turning from the chalkboard to face the class, hands outstretched with chalk in one hand and eraser in the other and saying something that summed up what he had just written that we couldn't decipher and then he'd blink several times. One of his many sayings, really the only I can remember was "qu...
Up all hours talking baseball, cardboard & collecting