The teacher who scared, but cared

When I was in eighth grade I went to visit Notre Dame-Bishop Gibbons. I think it must have been a recruiting effort. All eighth-graders in Schenectady Catholic schools had to go. I came from a family where the decision was already made. My parents chose where my siblings and I would go to school. We got to choose our college: we could go to any Catholic college.

That afternoon at ND-BG was really a preview of what was to come for me. I was terrified as I sat in a classroom where a short man talked really fast. As he talked he kept time to a song only he heard with a ruler against his hand.

I left ND-BG that day being terrified of high school. Math was hard enough. How would I ever follow a class where the teacher talked so fast? 

Once enrolled I had a reprieve: I wouldn't have Tom Maguire, the ruler-wielding math teacher, until my sophomore year of high school for geometry. 

I have since learned that there are two kinds of people on this earth: those who loved Mr. Maguire's math class and those of us who were terrified of it.

Despite being terrified, I passed and have memories of my time in his classroom. He'd start each lesson by barking "Date your notebook." I remember my friend Jan looking at me once and saying, "Great, look what it's come to. I can't get a date with a boy so I must now go out with my notebook."

He also covered the clock in his classroom with a sign "Time will pass. Will you?"
My other memory of Mr. Maguire was of auditioning for the school musical "Cabaret." 

I can't dance or sing, but I decided this was something I wanted to do. I wanted it so much that I would endure an audition in front of a man who scared me so much. Bravely I went in for the audition and continued singing even as Mr. Maguire laughed out loud.

"McGuinness you're done. But Juliano just ran out of here and we need her back. Go get her and convince her to audition. That's your role in the play."

"Juliano" was Christine Juliano, a transfer student. She had danced with the New York City Ballet and was a mystery. She seemed to be a nice girl, but she was hanging out with a rough crowd. Why would a preppy ballerina be friends with people who smoked?

I went and found "Juliano." She too was afraid of Mr. Maguire during the audition. Despite having danced with the NYC Ballet she was afraid she wouldn't make the cut.
Although I didn't know her, I promised her that I would wait outside the music room while she auditioned. That provided enough comfort to her that she returned to the music room and completed the audition.

That moment changed my life. From that moment on, Christine Juliano was my best friend. There have been countless times over the past 27 years that one of us has had to run after the other and convince them to pursue a dream or provide support.

Years later Mr. Maguire told me that there was no way I could pull off any of the parts in "Cabaret." He said, "It was like you didn't even know the girl was singing about having just had an abortion." 

I didn't.

He went on: "The faculty was confused by the crowd that Juliano was becoming a part of. We thought you'd be a better friend."

In the days since Mr. Maguire died countless graduates of ND-BG have shared stories of this quirky teacher. My question is: Did Mr. Maguire know the impact he had in this world? Is there any other profession where you don't know the outcome of your work?

When you survive surgery your doctor knows he did a good job. When a computer program runs the programmer knows she did her job right. But teachers don't get to see the fruits of their labor. My hope is that those who have read the story about Mr. Maguire will write a note, call or email the Mr. Maguires of their life and tell them what a difference they made.

(1/15/09)