Mr. Graff! In 1951 he was my 6th grade teacher at Timpanogos School in Provo, Utah. Tall, graying, kind of gruff; he was the first man teacher I ever had, and at first I didn't like him.
But he was such a wonderful teacher, that I slowly came to love him. He read to us for a time every day. He demonstrated various things to us in ways that we could not forget. A couple of examples stand out in my memory even now, 60 years later:
In 6th grade we studied fractions, which were kind of fun, but also kind of confusing at times. To demonstrate the "invert and multiply" rule for division of fractions, he asked the tallest, skinniest boy in the class to come and stand next to him. Kind of a clown, the boy mugged and jiggled for the class.
But suddenly Mr. Graff leaned sideways, picked up the boy in his long strong arms, and turned him upside down! The boy was making strange noises in his throat and clawing at the air. The class was stunned, and sat in shocked silence for a few seconds.
Suddenly "Larry", a boy I considered to be one of the poorest students and most disruptive kids in the class leaped to his feet stuttering: "OH! OH! OH! OH! His head....... his head is the numerator..... and his feet are the denominator!"
The rest of us sat stunned as one by one each of us finally "got it", and were a bit abashed that the most mediocre student had for once beaten us to the punch.
I have only one very major regret regarding Mr. Graff. I have returned to Provo many times in my life, first with my parents, then later, on my own. As much as I loved the man, why oh why did it never once occur to me to visit him?!
One time when I was there, in the early 90s, I looked in the phone book and found a Graff whose name I was sure was one of his sons. Mr. Graff had occasionally spoken of his 3 grown sons and his granddaughter, who was a toddler at the time.
I knocked on the Graff door in Orem and was met by a man who obviously was his son. I wasn't surprised to hear that Mr. Graff was gone. But I was devastated to learn that he had only died about 5 years before!
I had visited Provo at least a half dozen times over the years. I always went to see the 3 houses we'd lived in, and the 3 schools I had attended, and a few other landmarks.
How wonderful it would have been to sit and visit with Mr. Graff as an adult. I would love to have told him what an impact he'd had on my life, and how often I thought of him and the things I learned from him. I did tell his son, but of course it wasn't the same.
So I shed a few tears, then and now and many times in between, over opportunities lost and gone forever. I can only hope that these words, or their essence, will reach you wherever you are now Mr. Graff!
(Kent Myrick, Class of '58)
But he was such a wonderful teacher, that I slowly came to love him. He read to us for a time every day. He demonstrated various things to us in ways that we could not forget. A couple of examples stand out in my memory even now, 60 years later:
In 6th grade we studied fractions, which were kind of fun, but also kind of confusing at times. To demonstrate the "invert and multiply" rule for division of fractions, he asked the tallest, skinniest boy in the class to come and stand next to him. Kind of a clown, the boy mugged and jiggled for the class.
But suddenly Mr. Graff leaned sideways, picked up the boy in his long strong arms, and turned him upside down! The boy was making strange noises in his throat and clawing at the air. The class was stunned, and sat in shocked silence for a few seconds.
Suddenly "Larry", a boy I considered to be one of the poorest students and most disruptive kids in the class leaped to his feet stuttering: "OH! OH! OH! OH! His head....... his head is the numerator..... and his feet are the denominator!"
The rest of us sat stunned as one by one each of us finally "got it", and were a bit abashed that the most mediocre student had for once beaten us to the punch.
I have only one very major regret regarding Mr. Graff. I have returned to Provo many times in my life, first with my parents, then later, on my own. As much as I loved the man, why oh why did it never once occur to me to visit him?!
One time when I was there, in the early 90s, I looked in the phone book and found a Graff whose name I was sure was one of his sons. Mr. Graff had occasionally spoken of his 3 grown sons and his granddaughter, who was a toddler at the time.
I knocked on the Graff door in Orem and was met by a man who obviously was his son. I wasn't surprised to hear that Mr. Graff was gone. But I was devastated to learn that he had only died about 5 years before!
I had visited Provo at least a half dozen times over the years. I always went to see the 3 houses we'd lived in, and the 3 schools I had attended, and a few other landmarks.
How wonderful it would have been to sit and visit with Mr. Graff as an adult. I would love to have told him what an impact he'd had on my life, and how often I thought of him and the things I learned from him. I did tell his son, but of course it wasn't the same.
So I shed a few tears, then and now and many times in between, over opportunities lost and gone forever. I can only hope that these words, or their essence, will reach you wherever you are now Mr. Graff!
(Kent Myrick, Class of '58)
Mr. Graff! In 1951 he was my 6th grade teacher at Timpanogos School in Provo, Utah. Tall, graying, kind of gruff; he was the first man teacher I ever had, and at first I didn't like him.
But he was such a wonderful teacher, that I slowly came to love him. He read to us for a time every day. He demonstrated various things to us in ways that we could not forget. A couple of examples stand out in my memory even now, 60 years later:
In 6th grade we studied fractions, which were kind of fun, but also kind of confusing at times. To demonstrate the "invert and multiply" rule for division of fractions, he asked the tallest, skinniest boy in the class to come and stand next to him. Kind of a clown, the boy mugged and jiggled for the class.
But suddenly Mr. Graff leaned sideways, picked up the boy in his long strong arms, and turned him upside down! The boy was making strange noises in his throat and clawing at the air. The class was stunned, and sat in shocked silence for a few seconds.
Suddenly "Larry", a boy I considered to be one of the poorest students and most disruptive kids in the class leaped to his feet stuttering: "OH! OH! OH! OH! His head....... his head is the numerator..... and his feet are the denominator!"
The rest of us sat stunned as one by one each of us finally "got it", and were a bit abashed that the most mediocre student had for once beaten us to the punch.
I have only one very major regret regarding Mr. Graff. I have returned to Provo many times in my life, first with my parents, then later, on my own. As much as I loved the man, why oh why did it never once occur to me to visit him?!
One time when I was there, in the early 90s, I looked in the phone book and found a Graff whose name I was sure was one of his sons. Mr. Graff had occasionally spoken of his 3 grown sons and his granddaughter, who was a toddler at the time.
I knocked on the Graff door in Orem and was met by a man who obviously was his son. I wasn't surprised to hear that Mr. Graff was gone. But I was devastated to learn that he had only died about 5 years before!
I had visited Provo at least a half dozen times over the years. I always went to see the 3 houses we'd lived in, and the 3 schools I had attended, and a few other landmarks.
How wonderful it would have been to sit and visit with Mr. Graff as an adult. I would love to have told him what an impact he'd had on my life, and how often I thought of him and the things I learned from him. I did tell his son, but of course it wasn't the same.
So I shed a few tears, then and now and many times in between, over opportunities lost and gone forever. I can only hope that these words, or their essence, will reach you wherever you are now Mr. Graff!
(Kent Myrick, Class of '58)
But he was such a wonderful teacher, that I slowly came to love him. He read to us for a time every day. He demonstrated various things to us in ways that we could not forget. A couple of examples stand out in my memory even now, 60 years later:
In 6th grade we studied fractions, which were kind of fun, but also kind of confusing at times. To demonstrate the "invert and multiply" rule for division of fractions, he asked the tallest, skinniest boy in the class to come and stand next to him. Kind of a clown, the boy mugged and jiggled for the class.
But suddenly Mr. Graff leaned sideways, picked up the boy in his long strong arms, and turned him upside down! The boy was making strange noises in his throat and clawing at the air. The class was stunned, and sat in shocked silence for a few seconds.
Suddenly "Larry", a boy I considered to be one of the poorest students and most disruptive kids in the class leaped to his feet stuttering: "OH! OH! OH! OH! His head....... his head is the numerator..... and his feet are the denominator!"
The rest of us sat stunned as one by one each of us finally "got it", and were a bit abashed that the most mediocre student had for once beaten us to the punch.
I have only one very major regret regarding Mr. Graff. I have returned to Provo many times in my life, first with my parents, then later, on my own. As much as I loved the man, why oh why did it never once occur to me to visit him?!
One time when I was there, in the early 90s, I looked in the phone book and found a Graff whose name I was sure was one of his sons. Mr. Graff had occasionally spoken of his 3 grown sons and his granddaughter, who was a toddler at the time.
I knocked on the Graff door in Orem and was met by a man who obviously was his son. I wasn't surprised to hear that Mr. Graff was gone. But I was devastated to learn that he had only died about 5 years before!
I had visited Provo at least a half dozen times over the years. I always went to see the 3 houses we'd lived in, and the 3 schools I had attended, and a few other landmarks.
How wonderful it would have been to sit and visit with Mr. Graff as an adult. I would love to have told him what an impact he'd had on my life, and how often I thought of him and the things I learned from him. I did tell his son, but of course it wasn't the same.
So I shed a few tears, then and now and many times in between, over opportunities lost and gone forever. I can only hope that these words, or their essence, will reach you wherever you are now Mr. Graff!
(Kent Myrick, Class of '58)
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