To the Class of 2023

In the spring of 2015, I was hired as an after-school teacher and assigned to your class. You guys were just kindergarteners at the time, and now you’re about to graduate. So much has happened over the years, too much to fit into a tiny corner of your yearbooks. Instead, I’ll lay it out here, where we have all the space we need.

Me and the boys (I’m guessing in KG?)

As kindergarteners, you helped me find creative ways of teaching, how to be firm without being overbearing. One of the earliest lessons I had to impart was the concept of personal space. Male teachers deal with extra scrutiny every day, and it can get dicey when kids who come up to your waist mob you for hugs.

That’s when the Invisible Bubble was born. “If you pop my bubble, you get time out~!” Of course, you all giggled at the idea, and, of course, there were the couple of instigators who pretended to poke and pop that bubble.

I: “Ha ha! Pop!”
Me: “Congrats! You’ve got time out.”
I: “But I was just kidding!”
Me: “Great! I wasn’t.”

J and his custom sword for Foam Noodle Fencing.

The next thing you brought to the table was the Why Game. You know how that one works. Every time an adult says something, a small child is obligated to ask “Why?” every time. After enough rounds of this game, I discovered two ways to end the game without getting impatient.

Strategy 1: actually answer every time. While this involves more brain power and can lead to circular arguments, that display of patience and understanding did help stem the flow of questions. You got your answers, and I got to work on my apologetics.

Strategy 2: Uno Reverse Card. Simply put, you start asking “Why” back. This led to one of my favorite interactions.

E: “Why?”
Me: “Well, you tell me. Why do you want to know?”
E: “Because ___.”
Me: “Why is that?”
~several rounds later~
Me: “And why is that?”
E: “I…I don’t know.”
Me: “Well, why don’t you know?”
E: “I--I just don’t know!”
Me: “Why don’t you know why you don’t know?!”
E: “AAAAAAUGH!”

Some of the best comics I’ve read in a while!

While the anecdotes above may paint me as strict or confusing, they didn’t seem to deter you. Obviously, as you guys moved up in grades, I didn’t always get to be your teacher in the afternoon. I don’t recall who you had in 1st grade, but I know for sure it wasn’t me in 2nd grade.

The only reason I remember is because there was a day I was asked to assist a new teacher (who had been assigned to you). I had taken roll call, and everything seemed to have been going smoothly. You listened for your names to be called, kept quiet until it was your turn, the whole shebang. Unfortunately, the new teacher, who didn’t seem happy with how well-behaved you guys were during roll, asked a rhetorical question that received a bit-too-honest answer.

Teacher: “Why is it that when I take roll, you guys are always chatting away, but when Mr. Tim takes roll, you guys are suddenly on your best behavior?”
A: “Because Mr. Tim is a nice teacher!”
(other students start chiming in)
Me: “…Oh, boy…”

A blind draw while playing Superfight, courtesy of I. Can you build a better character?

This wasn’t the only time you guys displayed your brutal honesty. As the seasons changed, there would be times where I’d sport a full beard or shave it all off (which led to the origin of my triplets, the clean-shaven Mr. Trim and the maniacal punster Mr. Jim). On one of Mr. Trim’s returns, one particular student just had to speak their mind.

K: “Mr. Tim, you look ugly without the beard.”
Me: “Oh, well, that’s okay--”
K: “You look ugly with the beard, too.”
Me: “Okay, buddy!”

C didn’t know what to draw, so I suggested he draw me. This is what I get…

I don’t remember what grade you were in when this happened, but there was a game that started during your time at our school that has become an after-school staple ever since: Fast Catch. As the name implies, it’s a really fast game of catch. The thing is, I don’t know if you were ever told how that game came to be.

While some of the after-school teachers and I were off duty, someone found a couple of oranges. Problem was, these oranges had already gone soft. Nobody really wanted to touch them, but someone decided to toss them around. What started as an “I don’t want it; you have it!” quickly turned into ten minutes of reflex training and laughter.

Once things had died down, someone said, “You know, we could turn this into a game for the kids.” My gears immediately started turning, and after some tweaking and explaining, the first game of Fast Catch had begun (thankfully with beanbags instead of spoiled oranges).

What better way to encourage creativity and community than some classic DnD?

Lego Battle Tops was another hit during the younger years. Funny part was, that’s what my classmates and I had to do after Beyblades got banned from school for causing too many distractions and injuries. Watching you guys problem solve with spinning Lego constructs was a lot of fun. Of course, what you made knocked my tops across the room, forcing me to rethink my designs…

True indeed, A. True indeed.

I’ve heard it said that the best teachers teach from the heart, not just the book. The teachers I enjoyed learning under were the ones who shared their personal interests with me, like my elementary teachers and college professors who had deep loves for fantasy, sci-fi, and comics. I decided to be the same and share my interests with all of you. This expanded well past the filmmaking class and the creative writing summer camp class.

Character Creation during “The Write Stuff” creative writing summer class (I don’t think that date is accurate, though…)

You were the first group I tried introducing anime to, once you got to 5th grade. We only ever got around to watching two, but each of them generated a buzz for different reasons.

The first one we watched was The Boy and the Beast. I didn’t know how you would feel about a fantasy samurai flick, but judging from the fact you guys nicknamed it “The Angry Care Bear movie,” I think my worries were unnecessary.

The other one was Mirai, a supernatural time-travel movie. The best part about that one was the “demon granny” jump scare near the end. You screamed, you laughed, and then you begged me to rewind it back to that part so that someone who came in late could experience it, too.

“This girl is on fi—” no, wait… “This girl’s breathin’ faiaaaaaaah~!”

By showing you what I was interested in, it opened the door for you to share what you enjoyed with me. From refereeing basketball matches, to the latest arts and crafts creations, to the inception of the Skyman”™” playing cards, I was touched that you wanted me to be a part of the fun and shenanigans. (As a side note: C? J? Some of those cards you two made were absolutely broken, but it’s all a part of learning game design! Let me know if you ever turn it into a full-fledged game so I can take the quotations off of the Trademark up above!)

More to come, for sure!

It wasn’t just the pop culture interests and recreational activities I shared with you. When you were in 1st grade, I started telling stories at recess time. At first, they were classic tales you all had heard before. Eventually, I began using you as a test audience for my original stories, and I will say, you made for very honest critics. Here are some of my personal favorites.

Me: “So you see, kids, the worst thing you can do in a story is kill the dog. If anyone else dies, nobody bats an eye, but if the dog dies, everybody loses their minds!”
R: “In other words, don’t kill the Happy!” (referring to a character in the current story)
Me: (already planned on Happy sacrificing himself to save the MCs) “Yes…”

Me: telling a story about a man trying to save his fiancé from a magical being
J: “Mr. Tim, why do you keep saying that?”
Me: “Saying what?”
J: “’Fiancé.’ It’s so gross!”
Me: “Would you rather I have him say, ‘My Love,’ or, ‘My Beloved?’”
J: “Ew! No! Stop! I take it back!”

S: “Mr. Tim, that last story wasn’t as good as your other ones.”
Me: “Okay, then what do you think I should change to make it better?”
S: “Oh, uh, maybe you can try…”

Me: drops a major plot twist
Student: rolls on the floor, sobbing

It would be an understatement to say that you guys were a serious motivator and inspiration to pursue my story writing. Fable’s Folklore and Little Red Robin Hood would not have been published, and my author career would not have started, if it weren’t for you.

The earliest piece of Little Red Robin Hood fan art.

It wasn’t just your teachers you inspired. People from other grades, older and younger, followed your lead, too. Some of you noticed that the teachers were having a rough time with the little kids, and you offered to help them out. Not as a way of getting out of homework time, but to legitimately volunteer to assist. Other grades caught on and tried to volunteer, too, but most of them just used it as time to hang out and got themselves banned. You, however, had your hearts in the right place. Even at the time of writing this, you’re still helping the younger grades, and the after-school teachers and I all appreciate your selfless assistance.

Swinging into the Spiderverse!

The biggest lesson you taught us was how to be resilient. Sure, working with kids can try your patience, but nothing tested us better (or worse) than COVID 2020. Quarantine wrecked so many people. Coming back to school after almost half a year, I had to play mediator for a bunch of children who had forgotten how to interact with each other.

Your class, however, was not one of those groups. You toughed out that time in quarantine. You remembered how to treat each other with respect (some more than others, but it was there!). You showed us that no matter the storm, it could be weathered.

When the kids find out your favorite animal is a dragon and your favorite color combo is black and gold.

And now, you’re heading to that graduation stage. You’ve gone from fledgling kindergarteners to 8th grade falcons, ready to spread your wings and soar into your futures. As bittersweet as this moment is, I am proud of all you’ve accomplished. I hope you look back at your time here as fondly as I do.

Most importantly, I hope that I, and the rest of your teachers, set good, godly examples for you to emulate. Yes, we went on and on about God, Jesus, and the Bible, but my prayer is that we taught you the importance of faith less with our words and more with our actions and lifestyles. I was around your age when I decided that the faith my teachers talked about would be my faith, not just information for a test. God loves you, and no matter what, He will always be there for you. Whether it’s now, or sometime down the line, I hope you come to that conclusion, too.

Congratulations, Class of 2023. You taught me just as much as I taught you, and for that I am forever grateful. Do good, be good, and take care.

Sincerely,
Your punny, head-in-the-clouds knucklehead of a teacher,
Mr. Tim