Day 1- Albert Joe Alt

My fifth grade teacher. My first male teacher.

I looked up to him in more ways than I can probably explain. He was the first teacher I remember who told us about his life. His wife was our music teacher and it was the first time I knew a teacher's spouse and saw them interact. It was all so real. He talked about surgeries, things he had done wrong and things he had done right, his children, people in his past. It was all so eye-opening. I had such a crush on Mr. Alt. I think I admired him so much, I was simply in awe of him.

He used to follow tangents in class. He'd start out explaining the scientific method and suddenly we would all be debating Forest Gump. My other teachers did not stand for that. If she begun a lecture on geographical formations, she was going to see it through to the dull, dull end, dammit.

Sometimes, during these departures from the lesson, I'd daydream. (To be honest, I daydreamed through the dull, focused ones too, definitely more so.) Once, I jumped into the middle of one random discussion and suddenly found myself to be one half of an intense comical debate with Mr. Alt himself. I'm not sure what I thought we were debating, but I knew I was standing up for my gender: an age-old battle of girl vs. boy. How exciting! I was joking around with Mr. Alt! It was an out-of-body experience; I didn't know what I was saying. A higher power dictated my words. I don't remember the specifics of it, but I know it ended with him citing the male's ability to write their name in the snow. I attempted to argue the point, but it was over. The class roared with laughter. He hadn't backed down. He made the possibly risky joke. I think we all respected his nervy confidence.

Mr. Alt wasn't all jokes. He gave me my first failing grade. He didn't let me slide by. He troubleshot my problems with my parents and me. Why I couldn't concentrate; why I didn't sleep; why I procrastinated. He didn't just tell me to stop, and he didn't criticize or nag me. He had an endless supply of suggestions. Most of them helped. He taught me that I'm more visual, I need to exercise and relax to sleep well, and that eventually, everyone has to buckle down and do the things they don't want to do.

That year, I felt so grown up, so mature.

In our class photo, you see 20 or so twelve year-olds holding hands and genuinely smiling. Mr. Alt stands to our left, cracking jokes. He made us hold hands so we would feel more connected. I'm the only one not looking forward. I'm gazing at my teacher, unable to stop laughing.