This piece is dedicated to Christopher Mark, the “fearless leader” of the Huron Orchestras, for he is perhaps the quintessential example of a remarkable teacher and the Andrew Jackson of our hearts.

This is the age of sterile progress and efficiency. Computers and smartphones have replaced television sets and radios. When push comes to shove, the pinched pennies of overdrawn school budgets are cast in the lot of upgrading software instead of maintaining teacher jobs.

This physical shift has been paralleled by a change in thinking.

It seems as if the DNA of our society has developed a steely membrane that is impregnable against the seemingly antiquated traditions of human contact.

So what do ordinary people count for these days? Do we depreciate in value just like machines? Are we trapped in some sort of inverse relationship with technological progress? Or, should the value of human-to-human interactions increase as it is turning into a fleeting commodity?

With the still-poignant memory of a student’s suicide challenging our consciences and the jaws of recent budget cuts whisking away some of the schools’ most talented educators, it’s difficult not to underscore the importance of a teacher over a machine.

For this piece, I interviewed two professionals who have established themselves not only as experts in their respective areas, but have transcended the line of duty to broaden the role of the educator.

Sean Eldon is one of Huron High School’s English AP Literature and composition teachers and the advisor for The Emery, Huron’s student newspaper.

“The best piece of advice I’ve ever gotten about teaching was from a teacher…Tracy Rosewarne. She said, ‘Always be a student in your class,’" Eldon related, twisting a Styrofoam cup in his hands.

At the beginning of the interview, Eldon revealed that he had gone into teaching partially out of a love for literature, but mostly because of the chance to influence young minds.

“The potential energy of all these students flocking together for one hour who then go away for the rest of the day,” as Eldon put it, was a zenith of intrigue and fascination.

“The physics” was the term he used to describe the daily dynamics of the classroom. These are the interactions that moves massive groups of young minds; a force that is “odd and powerful.”

Every worthwhile goal has some sort of objective. After a few moments of thoughtful contemplation, Eldon answered that the purpose of his teaching is “to challenge prejudices and ideas about life.”

As a member of his English AP class this past year, I can attest that this goal is an uncompromising point in Eldon’s teaching. In class, we were constantly presented with different perspectives on reading literature (for example, during the unit on “Hamlet” the Oedipus complex outlined by Dr. Sigmund Freud was highlighted).

Eldon went on to surmise that a good literature teacher should “place storytelling and language in context of a student’s life.” In this sense, he is very much utilitarian when it comes to what the student is expected to get out of analyzing text. The practicality of making esoteric tomes written by the likes of Shakespeare relevant to the average student is a vital ingredient to the effectiveness of any modern literature course.

Besides all the insightful characteristics of a literature teacher, Eldon has one clarifying statement about his job: educators are sometimes treated as outsiders, but they are “real people with strengths and weaknesses.”

I couldn’t help but make the connection to Mr. Mark. If teachers have weaknesses, doesn’t that imply that they make mistakes? Teachers err.

…how does the rest of that platitude go?

“To err is human…
…but to forgive is divine.”

With regard to Mr. Mark, Eldon points out jokingly that he “clearly loved his job, and there’s a shortage of teachers who do”. The tremendous support students have shown for the orchestra conductor has also not been overlooked.

After a few more remarks, I maneuvered the topic to the recent death of fellow Class of 2012-er Seth Harsch. I asked Eldon if teachers and classmates have the scope to help kids who pose an imminent danger to themselves.

“It’s within the power of the people,” Eldon replied. “Everyone [teachers] tries to save a kid.”

Whether or not they are met with success is sometimes up to chance. However, the relationship between the teacher and the student can serve as a bridge for further contact.

Andrew Collins is Huron High School’s Chemistry AP teacher and is one of the most widely-respected (and sometimes feared) teachers in the school.

With a garrulous personality matched with witty quips, Collins is never shy about offering his opinion or engaging an aloof student in conversation. So naturally when I approached him about doing this interview, Collins was generous with his time and words.

The interview started with a glimpse into what got Collins started on the road to becoming a teacher. He revealed that after graduating from college, he went into the professional brewing trade, working in many “artisanal, old-school” breweries.

In a revelation that may take many of his students by surprise, Collins admits that initially he lacked the confidence to “stand in front of a class of kids and have them respect you,” though he always expressed a love for academia and science.

A stint volunteering at an alternative school in Portland, Ore. changed his mind. While working with kids who used drugs and mothers who studied at the school, Collins realized that “if I can make a difference with these kids, I can make a difference anywhere.”

The goal of his teaching is to provoke students to “apply” the concepts they learn in class. Students should be able to solve real-world problems with the technical skills garnered in the classroom. In fact, for Collins, getting an “A” in AP Chemistry entails far more than a basic memorization of terms.

“Anyone can regurgitate information,” says Collins. “If you want an ‘A’, you have to apply it; think outside the box. You have to think: ‘What’s the core concept?’”

Even with the esteem that comes inherent in teaching a vigorous course, Collins acknowledges that there are some things that fall through the gaunt academic gridline of AP Chemistry.

On the surface, the intense curriculum offers no time to do “community-based things.” In addition, sometimes the objective grades do not necessarily reflect the “ingenuity” of certain students.

“I have students who are really curious,” Collins explained.

One student in particular stands out to him. Even though this student does not perform well on the tests, he has a self-made lab in his basement. Collins even indulged in a borderline nerdy chemistry joke with this student: when asked which metal he would be, Collins picked tungsten, which also happened to be the choice metal for the student.

Even with a busy schedule, Collins is always willing to carry out intriguing conversations with students even outside the traditional chemistry domain. According to him, the most memorable student gesture was when a former student wrote a letter of thanks, specifically citing the discussions he had with Collins regarding politics, religion, and social issues after school during lab time. The student said that he really connected with the teacher.

But not everybody feels a similar bond. For students who are quiet, talking about the issues that bother them is not a path that is frequently pursued, if at all. That’s what makes it hard to reach out and identify seriously troubled teens.

“People are dynamic; they’re not static,” Collins said. Not only do students change emotionally, but they move around all day, prohibiting a thorough observation by a teacher.

The topic of Seth Harsch is one that resonates deeply with Collins. Even though Seth had been a student in his class for only one semester, Seth’s death clearly jarred him. 

Collins recalled the day preceding the suicide: “I saw him walking down the hallway, looking really angry. I asked a teacher who knew him well to talk to Seth, but Seth just sort of blew past this teacher.”

In hindsight, he concluded that reaching out extensively to individuals may benefit more kids in the long terms. Paying “attention to marginal things” is a non-scripted role many teachers must adopt.

Collins further mused that Seth probably would have appreciated all the attention he was getting from the Huron High School community.

“The sad thing is, he’s not here to see all of this.”

Obviously, Collins’ vision of a teacher is far from one-dimensional. He summarizes the role of the teacher into mandatory items and additional attributes.

Traits like having high standards, knowing the subject matter, being positive, being inspiring, and having respect for and from the students make up the mandatory side. Passion, taking an interest in the students, and being fair in the classroom make up the additional side.

Innovation. Thinking. Our future. The ultimate encapsulation of these notions is represented by the Post AP Project we have to complete at the end of the year.

For this project, teams must come up with all the details, ranging anywhere from economics to politics, regarding an alternative way to carry out operations with a keen eye towards the environment. This year, the projects ranged from harnessing energy from algae to developing treatments for cancer.

Through the structure of this project, Collins indirectly teaches students about the importance of saving energy and using it more efficiently (a subject he is very passionate about), while tapping into the creative licenses of students.

And this (the student) is the best pH indicator of the success of a teacher.

With the pivotal role of technology in ploughing the way for our future, many niches previously occupied by human beings are becoming obsolete. When teachers are being surplus-ed out of jobs while software is upgraded, we have to ask: what is the value of an educator?

To answer that, you have to experience for yourself.

If Mr. Mark is Andrew Jackson, then the year is 1824 and John Quincy Adams has just ascended the presidency after making a Corrupt Bargain with the House of Representatives.

No one can rationalize why, after winning a staggering majority in popular votes, Andrew Jackson ultimately lost the election.

But in fact, the provisions set forth in the U.S. Constitution on the subject of presidential elections boasted “firewalls” which prevented the opinion of the populace to be the deciding factor in the election; the Founders didn’t trust the intellect and decision-making skills of the common man.

Which is even more infuriating, since Andrew Jackson was exalted as the hero of the common man against the evil capitalistic interests of the elite.

If you’re still with me after this extended metaphor, please consider this: While I realize the professional, political, and economic (all very scary nouns, possibly deserving of being promoted to Proper Noun status) implications of Mr. Mark’s alleged actions had severe repercussions within the school and local communities, these reasons do not elicit compassion nor understanding from the people — the students — who are most affected by the loss of a once-in-a-lifetime educator.

We may have lost the battle, but you have lost the war.

You have not earned the respect or intellectual commiseration of the adolescents; the young adults who will one day revolutionize the world.

You have failed in your pursuit as models we should follow: you did not teach us anything, and you’ve lost our rudimentary respect. The aseptic decision you returned is a cold nod towards formality. You forget that lasting value lies not in the short-sighted commands of the present, but rather in the long-term impact of the future.

In a classroom, the role of the educator is giant. The vestiges a great educator leaves for a student are forever.Teachers are not statistics. They are real sentient people who have the capacity of saving lives and molding the future. They are the engineers guarding over the most precious energy we have — the potential of the posterity.

Jing Chai is a student at Huron High School and can be contacted at promisedalacrity@gmail.com.