Charlotte, NC

With school just around the proverbial corner, I wanted to take a moment to reflect a little on a very special teacher from years ago.
You see, Kenneth Mills was, for a time, the only male teacher at the “old” Pineville School (aka Farm Life School, home of the shakiest fire-escapes in the biz! I think they were placed there before President Jefferson left office …).
He was a teacher with a lot of heart — but that “niceness” could be pushed just so far. As the math teacher (one of three eighth-grade teachers I had; the other two being Mrs. Baker [now, don't get me started!] and Mrs. Buchanan), he knew how to be strict when it was necessary.
(awww, c’mon … IT WAS ONLY A JOKE!! Mrs. Baker was a fine teacher.)
There was one occurrence that’ll stand out in my mind until I lose it (I mean the mind. My hair, a couple of teeth and a little of my eyesight’s already gone). It was September, 1963. The “A” building (we had the gym, the school and the “A” building back then. And a coal scuttle … R.I.P. Henry and Leonard) was divided into two rooms: on the right was Mrs. Baker’s and the left was Mr. Mills’.
At about 2:30 on a Wednesday afternoon, third row from the door, fifth desk, I became a bit bored and, while Mr. Mills was speaking, this skinny, 13-year-old he called Hughsy (I think he copyrighted that name for me, because no one, before or since, has called me that!) started to roll an (No, don’t you even think of calling me that! Unless ya pay up front …)electric-red number 2 pencil on the hardwood floor with his foot.
Soon, Mr. Mills stopped talking and all you could hear was the rrrrrrr … rrrrrr … rrrrr … of the pencil as I rolled it.
With a firm, exasperated voice, he announced, “Hughsy, do you want us all to go into the gym where you can give us a performance?” I stopped immediately — partly because I’d been caught (quo erat demonstratum. i.e., “DUH!”) and partly because he knew mama and daddy, and I valued what hind-end I had!

But, thanks in part to Mr. Mills, I actually started thinking about performing, especially since mama and daddy had gotten a guitar for me a month earlier, for my birthday.

Today, Mr. Mills is an esteemed member of the Pineville Town Council (I understand it’ll be his last term), and still one of the friendliest, most down-to-earth and kindest gentlemen our area has been graced with! Sometimes, when I’ve seen him, I still learn from what he has to say … and often will jot some of his ideas down.

Ummm … only, now, I’m careful to use a pen. A round pen. And keep it securely in my pocket. ‘Cause ya never know what he’ll remember …