Call me polite, but when I address a male who is my elder, I like to use the word “sir.” Mr. John Hershberger would have none of my politeness. When I was a senior in high school, he was my Economics instructor. This was an “honors” level class, and I only mention that as a way of suggesting that the students in the class sometimes used their brains, and sometimes read a textbook, and sometimes did their homework assignments. In other words, we weren’t the typical mindless zombies that you might find in a basic Consumer Math class. But at some point prior to my matriculation into this class, Mr. Hershberger decided that I was a sarcastic hooligan, and that my number one goal in life was to undermine his authority. He probably came to this dramatic conclusion after he substituted once for Mr. Parker, the chess coach. He saw how rowdy the chess team could get, and he knew I was the ringleader of that amazingly unpredictable and chaotic group. So it should have come as no surprise when Mr...
The Blog of Bret R. Fuller