There I was in Highland Oaks Middle School, wandering the hallways with no concern whether or not I had class in the next five minutes. Homework… Books… What are those? Oh look, another F… who cares? I was the typical teenage kid who could care less about doing well in school. All I cared about were my friends, hanging out at the mall, and skipping school. Until the first day I walked into my eighth grade science class and there he was. There was Mr. “nut of a teacher” Finnigan riding around our classroom on his bicycle ringing his little bell. “Wee!” he said excitedly. As we all took our seats in the twilight zone room, he rode himself up to his desk, jumped off his bike, leaned it against the wall and said, “I hope everyone will be able to keep up ‘cause we’re gonna move like wild fire!” as he slid down the isle on his slippery shoes. He had such an excitement for life, such an excitement for what he was about to teach us. When he called roll he pronounced all of our names correctly as though he had been practicing. He asked each one of us to tell him where we came from and what we liked. After we had introduced ourselves, he told us about our plans for the year. He was so energetic, so animated. He made us laugh, made us think, made us curious to learn more. When the bell rang and it was time to leave he stood by the door and smiled at each one of us as we walked out. I left that class so cheerful, wanting to stay for him to teach me more. Everyday I went to his classroom. Everyday I read that science book. I was slow at first because I hadn’t really done it in awhile, but I got the hang of it. The day we had to cut up frogs and worms I was sick to my stomach, but it didn’t matter because I was going to cut that frog or worm no matter how I felt.
I’ll never forget the day one of my friends hadn’t studied for our science test and I, being the excellent student that I was, of course had. She asked to look off of my paper while we were testing and I, feeling terrible about it (for the first time in my life, might I add), let her look anyway. All of the sudden I heard a deep voice from the front of the room “Miss Jacobs! Miss LaHara! Please turn your papers over.” At that moment I could swear I heard my heart crack. I was so ashamed. I felt as if I wanted to disappear from the world forever. I couldn’t say anything to him. I didn’t know what I could say. I was guilty. “Mr. Finnigan… I’m sorry.” I said as we were handing him our tests. He didn’t look up and I didn’t look up. I didn’t say anything to him for a while. I was too ashamed. I think I even skipped his class once, until I realized I didn’t want to lose him. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him. So I busted my butt trying to prove myself to him for the rest of the year. I think it worked. He invited my mother and I over to his house because his wife wanted to cook dinner for us. Of course we never went because I was jealous of his wife. Hey, what can you expect? I was young and I had a crush on him!
Unfortunately, after his class I never had another teacher that cared as much as he. The outcome being, I went back to my old ways of never caring. But one thing is for sure. I will never forget my favorite “Wild Fire” sliding down the isle, Nut of a Teacher Mr. Finnigan. He touched me more then any teacher has. He believed in me when I wasn’t much of “student”. He cared, he smiled and even more important he gave every single one of us his all.
-- Sumitra Jacobs, Florida Atlantic University