This is just a brief update. Apparently, Mr. Denstedt - the man who taught me Calculus and Discrete Math - has injured himself. Bit of information gathered from Travis and Andrew indicate that Mr. Denstedt fell off of a ladder and injured his spine, resulting in brain damage. This brain damage will, unfortunately for the St. Michael’s community, leave him absent from teaching for an undisclosed period of time. Although I am unaware of the severity of the damage, his health may merely be keeping him from teaching, but still allow him to function normally with his family.

This horrible accident will strike a tremendous blow to the community, and it is an incredible loss to the faculty of St. Michaels, of which Mr. Denstedt was one of the best teachers. There is no possibility that I would have received my award for Discrete Math without his constant support, efficient teaching methods, and the pleasant learning atmosphere he provides for all of his students. It is unfortunate that future generations may not be as privileged as I was.

Strangely, as I was driving into work today, my father was playing David Wilcox’ - Do The Bearcat in our car stereo. I always smile when I hear this song because it reminds me of my Discrete Math class. It was a small class - maybe twenty people maximum. Me, Adam, James, Spencer, Brian, Vinnie, Lindsay, Melissa, Andrew, Travis, Helina, Dianne, Geri, Kahn, Erik, Massimo, and Leah. And, of course, Mr. Denstedt. The class was always light-hearted. Mr. Denstedt would teach us, and one of the four guys at the front (Andrew, Travis, Adam or myself) would make wisecracks. Brian and Spencer would always fight about something, and Lindsay would laugh at them and criticize Spencer for being mean to Brian. Dianne was always silent. Melissa would prop her feet up on Andrew’s chair. Kahn, Massimo and Erik existed in their own “fifth year” bubble on the other side of the room.

Adam would, traditionally, always have a song to sing. And, the one he sang most often was “Do The Bearcat”. I’d remember bopping along to the beat as he sang it quietly as well as chuckling every time he would repeat the chorus because he didn’t know the rest.

It was a good class. And I worked hard in it. My goal was to beat Andrew in what was - by reputation - the hardest math course in the school. It was merely a personal goal. No one else cared, not even Andrew. But it mattered to me. The day before the exam, I went into Mr. Denstedt’s classroom to ask what my mark was for the “preliminary exam” we’d held on the last day of school. He informed me that my mark was less than Andrew’s, and I nearly abandoned hope, thinking that there was no possibility of my victory. But Mr. Denstedt wouldn’t have it. He gave a few supporting comments. “Don’t give up yet,” and “You can still get him.”

Well, I went home and studied and the next day I wrote that exam and I conquered it. My mark was higher than Andrew’s mark. The award was assured as mine. In fact, on the day of the presentation, the only thing that kept me from smiling brighter was the fact that my award was not being presented to me by my teacher, Mr. Denstedt.

Mr. Denstedt was a good teacher. He was a constant supporter. He was an inspiration, a credit to his field and it is truly a crime if he is unable to teach any longer. But, needless to say, I now know what to do with my life.