I write this through tears. I went to bed last night hoping that the next morning would reveal my sorrow was misplaced, that it had all been a dream. That Shaltz wasn't gone.
I remember the first time I met him. My friend and I were hurriedly finishing homework before first period began. A man in a yellow track sweatshirt sauntered past us and unexpectedly pulled my friend's paper from her lap. "I can't believe he took my homework from me!" she exclaimed. I couldn't believe it either and told her I would go retrieve it for her. I marched indignantly into his classroom, puffed out my chest, and brazenly asked, "Why did you take my friend's homework? You should give it back to her right now"
His response, "Is your friend's name Marina Bell?"
My bravery deflated to shame. My friend had been caught copying and conveniently didn't tell me that before I stormed in demanding justice.
"Whoops, well...sorry about that. I didn't know.."
He asked me my name and I sorely considered giving a fake one, but figured he would know I was lying.
"Well, Miss King. I like you. I expect you will be taking my philosophy class next semester? It is mostly upperclassman, but I am sure you will be able to handle it since you handled this situation so well" I promised I would and tried to avoid passing his classroom for the rest of the semester.
When it came time to sign up for classes, I was a little wary to actually follow through on my promise to take his class. He was a bit intimidating with his bushy mustache, flannel shirts, and no-nonsense attitude. I decided to go ahead and take it anyway. It was one of those seemingly insignificant moments that redefined my life course.
That semester in his classroom was like no other I had ever nor would ever experience. He somehow managed to combine being one of the most laid back teachers in the school and one of the toughest. Philosophy was an hour of intellectual discussion on anything. From why saying you were from Detroit would impress other people to why Oatmeal Scotchie cookies were the most supreme combination of ingredients possible. He challenged me to think-not regurgitate facts. Once, when I was taking AP History from him my senior year, I got a 95% on a test. I stayed after class to argue with him that one of the questions was misleading and I actually deserved to get a 97% on the test.
He just stared at me for a good 5 seconds (he was really good at looking right through Dumbledore style). Finally, he responded with "King-life is not going to always give you what you think you deserve. You need to stop caring about grades and start caring more about life"
I was not entirely pleased at this moment because right then my life WAS getting good grades. The next time I saw my grade, he had changed it from a 95% to a 100%.
From sophomore year to senior year, Shaltz was my idol and friend. He actually cared about who I was and who my peers were. He wanted us to succeed. He wanted us to learn and become better.
He knew I loved running and would always ask about my cross-country meets. When track rolled around he kept prodding my to try throwing (discus and shot-put). He came up behind me one day in class with a ruler and measured my shoulder girth while informing me I would be doing Adams a sore injustice to not throw for them. I showed up the first day out of respect for Shaltz only to prove to him how awful I was. After awhile of sucking, he accepted the fact my shoulder girth was not going to outweigh my lack of coordination. He told me I could still come over during practices and just talk to him instead.
This is scattered, but I just needed to write some of these memories. These memories that make me smile and cry simultaneously. When my high school years were coming to an end, Shaltz helped make my college plans come true. He wrote me a letter of recommendation that said the absolute nicest things anyone has ever said about me.
He talked in the letter about how he had a young daughter who he could only hope would be half the young woman I was. He talked of how impressed he was with me from the first day I foolishly stormed into his classroom. How he had seen me grow year after year. How I was uniquely kind and compassionate. How I was intelligent and knew how to argue a point. How BYU would be "the most foolish university created if it did not admit someone so promising and inspiring"-Shaltz. He wrote in my year book "You have a gift King. Keep sharing it and don't waste it"
He wasn't supposed to die. He was the Ron Swanson of Adams High. He was everything a teacher and a human being should be and more. I loved Mr. Shaltz and cannot believe such a brilliant, far-reaching light has gone out. I don't know how long it will be before I stop tearing up at the thought that I didn't get to say goodbye, that I didn't keep in touch over emails, that I never got to tell him how much he meant to me, how much he defined me. Steve Shaltz left this world "trailing clouds of glory"- Woodsworth. I am so grateful for the blessing of knowing him.
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