The burden of goodbye
I'm taking a moment out of the usual again (I'll try not to make this a habit) ranting/mockery for something entirely serious, so bear with me...
Yesterday something quite tragic and unbelievable happened: Mr. Groff (our high school English teacher) was killed in a car accident.
If it had been anybody else I wouldn't bother posting anything here. But Groff was different. Damn near everybody loved him and his classes. Not because they were easy, and not because your daily work was limited. It was because he made it fun. It sounds like a cliche, making learning fun. But Groff did it. He gave you a reason everyday to want to come to school. I had exactly one semester with him and never have I laughed so hard inside a classroom, while in the same period of time learned so much. He could stand there, talk for an hour straight, and not once would you feel bored. I looked forward to his lectures/notes, no matter what the topic was, because it was always hilarious and usually thought-provoking.
I'd be lying if I said he taught me everything I know about writing, and I can't stand when people patronize the dead for something they clearly didn't do. But if Groff hadn't arrived when he did, at a time when I had just finished 3 straight and fairly boring stories for short films, I may have lost interest in writing. He encouraged your writing, no matter if it was bound to offend somebody, so long as you were being honest. His class made me realize that it's something you should have fun with, and it's not always to be taken seriously.
Groff wasn't a teacher to most people, though he may have "taught" them. He was a friend. I've never known any "teacher" who could just stand around with a group of students at lunch break, crack jokes, and make the lot of them laugh their asses off. He was a big kid, he really was (another cliche, but it's so true). Hell, he even got a kick out of this site and encouraged me to write more here.
It was so unexpected you don't know what to say or quite how to feel. I sat in the auditorium (possibly the only intelligent thing our principal has done all year was NOT announcing it over the PA system) amid the dead silence of 190 or so kids, and there was a moment where I tried to wake myself up. It didn't feel real. And once it sinks in you look for something to blame, someone to point a finger at, but you can't. Life is full of random events, and every so often one will be a horrible twist on reality.
Every interaction you have with people dictates their feelings towards you. It's so obvious that half the population doesn't realize it. Groff did. He cared about his students, and always greeted my classmates and me if we passed by in the hall or anywhere else in town. It's such a small, subtle gesture that we all take for granted until we're given the benefit of hindsight.
We never took Groff for granted, and we'll never forget the good times we had with him.
RIP,
Eric Groff.
Seeya on the other side.
Yesterday something quite tragic and unbelievable happened: Mr. Groff (our high school English teacher) was killed in a car accident.
If it had been anybody else I wouldn't bother posting anything here. But Groff was different. Damn near everybody loved him and his classes. Not because they were easy, and not because your daily work was limited. It was because he made it fun. It sounds like a cliche, making learning fun. But Groff did it. He gave you a reason everyday to want to come to school. I had exactly one semester with him and never have I laughed so hard inside a classroom, while in the same period of time learned so much. He could stand there, talk for an hour straight, and not once would you feel bored. I looked forward to his lectures/notes, no matter what the topic was, because it was always hilarious and usually thought-provoking.
I'd be lying if I said he taught me everything I know about writing, and I can't stand when people patronize the dead for something they clearly didn't do. But if Groff hadn't arrived when he did, at a time when I had just finished 3 straight and fairly boring stories for short films, I may have lost interest in writing. He encouraged your writing, no matter if it was bound to offend somebody, so long as you were being honest. His class made me realize that it's something you should have fun with, and it's not always to be taken seriously.
Groff wasn't a teacher to most people, though he may have "taught" them. He was a friend. I've never known any "teacher" who could just stand around with a group of students at lunch break, crack jokes, and make the lot of them laugh their asses off. He was a big kid, he really was (another cliche, but it's so true). Hell, he even got a kick out of this site and encouraged me to write more here.
It was so unexpected you don't know what to say or quite how to feel. I sat in the auditorium (possibly the only intelligent thing our principal has done all year was NOT announcing it over the PA system) amid the dead silence of 190 or so kids, and there was a moment where I tried to wake myself up. It didn't feel real. And once it sinks in you look for something to blame, someone to point a finger at, but you can't. Life is full of random events, and every so often one will be a horrible twist on reality.
Every interaction you have with people dictates their feelings towards you. It's so obvious that half the population doesn't realize it. Groff did. He cared about his students, and always greeted my classmates and me if we passed by in the hall or anywhere else in town. It's such a small, subtle gesture that we all take for granted until we're given the benefit of hindsight.
We never took Groff for granted, and we'll never forget the good times we had with him.
RIP,
Eric Groff.
Seeya on the other side.
posted by Soilworker at 2/26/2005 08:21:00 PM
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