MR. K

"Slither, Slither in the night...." - R. Raphe

End of the school year. Reminds me of the year  of Grade 7 and Mr. K. Possibly the most creative teacher. Our class was full of girls and boys who thought they knew everything. Girls who were smart, boys who were silly and still made fart noises with glue bottles. Mr. K was a giant. He towered above us with his dark hair and Abe Lincoln looks. He didn’t take any guff from the kids, none from parents. And he was a different sort of teacher. 

Mr. K taught inventively. At the start of the year he brought in his pets. A massive lizard, Sundance,  that would bite, and a long, slithering boa constrictor, Butch . They each had their own cages. 

Butch and Sundance fascinated us. Mr. K liked reading to the class, holding Butch around his arm. 

I have no idea what story he read, but the boa seemed to love it. His tongue darted. His eyes fixed. 

Mr. K taught us how to hold them, feed them, not be afraid of them. No other teacher in the district had class pets like that. The other classes were jealous. We had to make sure their glass cages were kept closed. 

I secretly hoped Butch would eat some of the boys who liked to make fart noises.

And yes, one time, Butch  got out and slithered around on the floor. All those boys and girls shrieked. Till Mr. K got us to calm down. Calm. Serene.  He caught Butch and wrapped him around his arm, while we turned to math problems.

The best part about that year was when we found out we were going to recreate a Mummy’s tomb as part of our journey through Egypt. And it started with a fashion show. 

Everyone was to make a costume, and we would have a parade that Mr. K filmed to show the school district.  

.  My mother made me an Egyptian princess by ripping up an old white sheet, and adding a gold net tablecloth, black eye makeup and birdcage earrings. There were about 20 Egyptian princesses that parade day. One pharaoh and a whole bunch of boys in blue jeans and t shirts who said they had been hired by the pharaoh to fart. They all got detention.

In the next little while, Mr. K taught us to read hieroglyphics, we made cartouches out of cardboard and gold paint,  a  sarcophagus, the mummy itself  was designed with glue and paper and gold and decorated with Egyptian symbols. 

Mr. K let us turn our classroom into something that Howard Carter, the archaeologist, would have envied. All the while, Butch curled himself around Mr. K’s arm. His tongue darted. His eyes fixed.

Mr. K said that we could work on the Egyptian scenario if our work was done. One day, I got detention for chewing gum. He didn’t allow gum or candy or  anything in the classroom. Luckily I didn’t get the strap. The strap was still around  then.  I missed an entire day of working on the tomb, as punishment.

By the next day, though, Mr. K said that now I could hold Butch.  It was nearing the end on the year. Parents Day was not far off. Some of us wore costumes.  I got to hold Butch. I remember thinking: Calm. Relax. Calm. Relax. All the while Butch slithered and twisted around my arm. He  was not slimy. He was quiet. His tongue darting . His eyes fixed.  Some of the mothers backed away.

In June we had to dismantle our Egyptian exhibit. It was a sad day.  I was chosen , along with another girl to go to another  school to show off the snake. It was the last thing we would do for the school year.

I stood in front of a bunch of little kids, with Butch wrapped around my arm, then my neck. He was getting agitated, cause the little kids were making squealing noises. Butch didn’t like that. He started to squeeze my arm. His tongue darted. His eyes fixed. Mr. K took Butch from me. I breathed then

Afterwards he drove us to A and W.  they still had waitresses who rolled out on skates to take your order. Mr. K had a root beer float. We had soft serve. We talked about Egypt and snakes and lizards and mummies.

And then Gr.7 was over. And junior high loomed.  Nothing in school was ever as interesting, or as challenging. Everything seemed so ordinary after that. Kind of boring even.

Mr. K moved on. He  took Butch and Sundance  back home. And I decided I wanted to be an archaeologist. All of the girls and boys went on to do whatever it is they wanted to do. But I will never forget that year where it all came alive, and we made believe we  discovered King Tut’s tomb again.

Thanks to Mr. K who wasn’t just a teacher, he wanted our imaginations to run wild. To not just read about it, but to live it.  Greatest teacher ever.

The ever winding, winding of the  boa constrictor about my arm has stayed with me as well. I can still see his tongue darting. His dark eyes fixed on me. Mr. K said to be calm or Butch might think I was his next meal…….

Photographs 2022