Bad news never had good timing.

I came home from work today (or yesterday, rather) completely exhausted from working the dreaded 7-2 shift. I hopped on facebook and just surfed through friends' pages, looking at them in more detail. I noticed that, listed on one of my friend's facespaces, was a group called "In Dedication and Remembrance to Mr. Way." Out of curiosity, I clicked the link to the group's page, and this whole array of memories seemed to flood my mind.

My mom has been working in the daycare for the local rec center since before I could walk or talk. She first met Mr. Way when he put his twin daughters in the nursery when they were toddlers. As she sometimes does with the parents who drop their kids off, my mom conversed quite a bit with Mr. Way. Unlike other parents, who would leave their kids and run off quickly to exercise, he would make the time to sit and play with his daughters before leaving. This gave my mom plenty of opportunity to get to know him and his wife.

Years and years later, when my brother entered high school, he had Mr. Way for General Science in his freshman year. During the school's open houses, to which I usually came along, my mom would go up and talk to him. Every year, for all four years of my brother's high school career, they talked of me possibly having Mr. Way as a teacher once I got to the high school level.

And I very well almost did. During course selection in eighth grade, I could have chosen to take Honors General Science, and therefore I would have had Mr. Way as a teacher. But I'd heard so many horror stories about his class being terribly difficult and how hard he graded science fair, etc. My own brother dropped out of honors science after taking his class, so I decided that I'd better take the regular level course instead.

Ninth grade came along, and I enjoyed my courses very much. Although I didn't have Mr. Way, I heard from many of my friends taking honors that he was an amazing, though admittedly tough, teacher. One friend told me at the beginning of the year that it was too bad I didn't take honors because Mr. Way often let his discussions meander from science so much that he would wind up talking about human nature or his life experiences. She said that his thought-provoking tangents were "my kind" of thing.

Mr. Way wanted everything done precisely (Way's way). I heard that he once took points off on a test because a kid showed work horizontally instead of vertically. All of his students needed to have their binders organized in a certain manner, and he graded them on this. A lot of kids received their first F's in his class. Still, he was respected and honored as one of the favorite teachers of most of the students who had him.

From day one of freshman year, my mom periodically insisted that I go see him and tell him that she had watched his daughters in the nursery and that he had my brother seven years ago. I answered that I would, when I got around to it, every single time. I had plenty of opportunities to let him know, too. I'd followed friends into his classroom both freshman and sophomore year when they had to ask him questions, and I often passed him in the halls. Junior year, I walked past him standing outside of his room several times a day to get to my locker. I just thought it'd be awkward to go up and tell him that he knew everyone in my family except for me.

By all means, I don't forget coming to school Monday November 12th of my junior year and hearing that Mr. Way had died unexpectedly from a brain tumor the previous day . The English, Math, and Cultures teachers were all saddened, but the Science Department was a wreck. I had Chemistry first period, and the first thing my teacher said to us was, "I had a lesson planned, but one of my best friends just died, so I don't give a crap." And we all sat and did nothing for forty-five minutes. The response from students was huge, too. At least five tables were set up in the Commons, and within a day all were filled with flowers and cards as a memorial to him. A sign was posted on one of the tables that read, "Men of genius are meteors destined to burn themselves out while lighting up their age."

Anyway, today I was on facebook reading all of the comments left on his page from people who knew him, and they were all so meaningful, much more than the typical, "Oh, this is so sad." He meant so much to a lot of kids. Just looking at the group page would tell you that. It made me truly regret that I never had the guts to a.) take his honors class when I definitely know I could have done it, and b.) tell him who I was and be able to meet him. I wish I could say something about how awesome a person I knew him as, but unfortunately, I just have to go by what other folks say.

It almost makes me wonder what else I have the ability to do and yet, for some lame excuse, am not doing.