The Men who Raised 500 Boys

What is the definition of an unsung hero?

To me, it is a person who blesses others without asking for acknowledgement or anything in return.

Two men who helped shape my life and the lives of many young men fit this definition. They are my junior high school physical education teachers Mr. John and Mr. Mac. I shortened their last names in case they would like to remain unsung which wouldn’t surprise me.

Mr. John and Mr. Mac did something that so many took for granted. They helped raise 500 adolescent boys five days a week from September to June. For they were the only teachers at our school who had every boy in their classroom, which was the gym and athletic fields, every day of the school year. Even in their planning period they were still around the gym most of the time. When you entered the doors of junior high in seventh grade you were eventually going to be taught by Mr. John and Mr. Mac before leaving ninth.

Both were very cool dudes who were good at relating to us. Mr. John seemed to me the coolest black man with a beard. Mr. Mac bared a tad bit of a resemblance to the musician Michael McDonald which earned him his cool ticket.

The situations that they faced were many. They had a new set of boys coming in every year from up to five different elementary schools. All of us thought we were better than any other. Cliques that had been formed from kindergarten through sixth grade didn’t have to be broken. But Mr. John and Mr. Mac had to help us to get along with others whom we did not know. This was not as easy as it sounds.

My seventh-grade year started as a battle for territory amongst us boys. It seemed like fights were breaking out often. It was always two boys from different elementary schools. Many times, the fight was instigated by other boys. I know because I fought and instigated. Often these fights occurred in gym class when emotions ran high as we all hated losing. Day to day, Mr. John and Mr. Mac had to be ready for anything.

But a plan that they had in place slowly stopped the arguments and fights from happening. And slowly brought us boys together in such a way that by the time we were in ninth grade the territory wars had ended and many of us who were enemies had become friends. Not all the fighting stopped. Adolescent boys will be boys. But they became few and far between. Almost to the point that we were surprised when they happened.

I don’t know if Mr. John and Mr. Mac created the plan. All I know is that it worked.  

The plan was simply putting teams together where we would have no choice but to get along for success. With each sports season new teams were picked by captains whom they would name or by the teachers themselves. This way in due time almost everyone would end up being teammates at some point in time. Then we would compete against each other with Mr. John and Mr. Mac settling any disputes. They trusted us enough to allow for policing of ourselves. The honor code so to speak.

When we entered seventh grade our first sport was football. For whatever reason, I was named a captain of one of the teams. I think it was because Mr. John had been my first P.E. teacher in elementary school and already knew me. As would be expected, the first players I chose were those that I knew. Very quickly I ran out of friends to choose from. This meant that I had to pick from boys whom I had no idea if they could play or not. This was the way it went with every team until all the picks were made.

Over the course of the next two weeks a bond formed amongst our team, and we became not only teammates, but friends. Even in hot and heavy times where tempers would flare between teams so that Mr. John and Mr. Mac had to step in, the team was put above old school loyalties.

Over the next three years all of us ended up playing together on football, soccer, basketball, softball and other teams. I played on teams that had the most popular boys in school helping the least popular. I vividly remember watching one of those popular boys escorting the so-called class nerd down the sidelines while blocking for him when we played for the touch football title in eighth grade.

As Mr. John and Mr. Mac did this, they set down the ground rules. If anyone got into a fight, they would not be sent to the principal’s office. No, we all paid for it with no P.E. that day. Sit in the bleachers and think about it boys. They knew that by doing this we would be more likely to police ourselves and keep each other out of trouble. If there is one thing young boys don’t want taken away from them, it’s their play time.

But it was not just the intramurals that made Mr. John and Mr. Mac special. It was the way that they saw something in every one of us and tried to bring it forth. Junior high, which we now call middle school years, are probably the toughest transition that adolescent boys must make. They are in a new environment where much more is expected of them. Their bodies are changing daily. Peer pressure ramps up. They notice females a little bit more. And often they think that they are more grown up than they are. All of this leads to mood swings whether wanted or unwanted.

Every teacher in the school must deal with these different personalities, but in my time only the P.E. teacher had to deal with every student. Mr. John and Mr. Mac understood this and were always there.

I remember when I was having trouble with my grades. My seventh-grade English teacher sent me to the gym and Mr. John took me aside. He told me that I wasn’t applying myself in the classroom like he knew that I could. He asked if everything was alright. Even though the transition to junior high for me was very tough I said they were fine. I don’t know if he believed me. Adults know kids better than kids know themselves. But he told me that if I needed anything to come see him. Then he sent me over to talk to Mr. Mac.

Mr. Mac was the soccer coach when the school had a team. Unfortunately, because of budget cuts, sports had been taken from junior high schools the year my class entered.

Mr. Mac posed a question to me. He asked if I was on his soccer team, what position I thought I would be playing. Assuming the role of big shot I answered team captain.  

“Nope,” Mr. Mac said. “You’d be on the bench.”

He explained to me that on his teams, grades were the ticket to playing. If a player didn’t have them, they either sat on the bench or got cut from the squad.

That conversation didn’t totally humble me, but Mr. Mac definitely got his point across. Pick up those grades or there will be a time when you will pay. By eighth grade, I was an honor roll student. When I played sports in high school my coaches never had to call me on the carpet about grades.

And Mr. John was right in thinking I wasn’t telling the truth when he asked if I was okay. A while later in the school year my anger boiled over in a kickball game and I threw a ball which hit an opponent in the back of his head. Mr. John saw it and immediately called both of us off the field. The other kids headed for the locker room as class was almost over.

Mr. John asked us what happened. As we talked, I became more and more upset and began to get on myself. Mr. John and the other boy watched as I let out all my frustrations with no one around but us.

When I was done, he talked to me for a bit then put his arm around my shoulders, and the three of us walked into the school together. Neither the boy nor Mr. John ever mentioned it to anyone. How can you not trust a man like that?

And I was just one of the boys that Mr. John and Mr. Mac mentored year after year. There are many of us with stories of how they were there when we needed them.

By ninth grade I and my classmates were different people. Now we were the elders of the school. We were given the task of being role models for the seventh and eighth graders. Inside and outside the gym. For us boys, it was time to help Mr. John and Mr. Mac. To show them what we had learned. I would like to think that we honored them well.    

For Mr. John and Mr. Mac had given us the blessings of time, patience, caring and giving. They helped us to grow into our teenage years. They helped us through good and bad times. Helped teach us right from wrong. Taught us responsibility. How to get along with others. To own up to our mistakes. The list goes on and on.

All teachers are important. But there is a major importance for those who get the opportunity to help raise 500 adolescent boys Monday through Friday from September to June for three years.  In my mind, this makes them true unsung heroes.

I am very thankful that Mr. John and Mr. Mac are the unsung heroes who came into my life when they did. I know there are many of us boys that are now men who feel the same.