Ode to Ron Eid

Recently I learned that Ron Eid, a teacher at Riverside Secondary School in Windsor, Ontario, passed away about 10 years ago. Since I wasn't able to pay my last respects to him by attending his funeral, nor did I ever take the opportunity to tell him how much I learned from him and how much he meant to me, I'm doing it now.

Dear Mr. Eid,

I still remember where I sat in your Grade 9 History class at Riverside Secondary School on the 2nd floor. First desk in the left row, closest to your desk and the windows. I was a keener for school back then; most kids went straight for the seats as far back from the front as they could manage, but not me. I wanted to sit at the front so as not to miss a thing.

It took a while for me to warm to your teaching style. You were certainly unorthodox back then, and more than just a little scary. You had a strange accent that I couldn't place, and I'd be lying if I said that I and some of my classmates didn't manage to do a pretty accurate imitation of it. Even though you were always really nice to me, you had a mean streak that emerged when someone "didn't get" the concept you were teaching, hadn't done his or her homework, or scored a lousy mark on a test. You were not above "centering someone out" who had done poorly, and at times I felt embarrassed for you because you were unkind and it didn't become you.

But you made your classes so interesting. You knew how to provoke debate, and you let us all go at it and get all riled up. Your unorthodox ways inspired me to be unorthodox too...and I liked that.

You commanded respect, and you had mine. I was never much of a studier, but I studied for your tests and exams because I did not want to disappoint you. I still remember my final grade 9 report card; History was one of my highest marks.

My next memory of you was Grade 11. You taught a class called World Religion...a new one in the curriculum. Would it surprise you to know that to this day, more than 35 years later, people are still talking about that class--saying it was the best class they ever took in high school, the one they learned the most in? The infamous field trip to the painted pink brick Himalayas restaurant on Ouellette is still remembered too. And I still remember your tiny slanted printing on one of my World Religion essays--"This is the most unorthodox essay I have ever read. A+". I was so proud of that comment, and that mark.

By the time Grade 13 rolled around, I'd venture to say that you and I were friends. We chatted in the hallways between classes. You teased me, and I liked being teased by you. I thought when I applied to be Editor to the Rebelogue I'd be a shoo-in for the job because you were the Staff Advisor. So imagine my hurt and embarrassment when you gave the top job to Judith Prince. She sat behind me in your Grade 13 history class, and we were friends outside school. Even Judith felt badly that I didn't get the position, because she knew how much I wanted it. I took the news as graciously as I could, and tried to be happy with my place as Assistant Editor. But inside, I was sulking big time.

Things have a funny way of working out, and before the end of the first term, Judith had decided the responsibility and pressure of being Editor was going to interfere too much with her schooling. She wanted to go to an A list university, and had to be sure all her marks were above 75%. She gave up her position and I became Editor by default.

I didn't care about how I came to be Editor, and I sure didn't hold it against you either. When I think of the hours and hours we spent after school and on weekends, working on the 1976 edition, and how you were always, always there...always with a smile or a joke, never telling me how to do anything but asking me to think about how I thought I should do it. You also helped me to look beyond the surface of people and choose them for their ability and their commitment, not how much I liked or didn't like them. No one on our Executive team--Peter Pomerleau, Rob Lesperance, Stephanie Wooden and Doreen Pullin--were friends of mine. In fact, I didn't know any of them at all, and wondered how on earth I'd ever get them to do anything that needed to be done. But you had faith in me...you told me that I "had what it took" to motivate people and inspire them to do well.

In my Editorial--which is painful for me to read now because it's so obvious I was trying WAY too hard to impress everyone with my written prowess and sophisticated vocabulary (!)--the most sincere, genuine words I wrote were about you: "My special thanks and sincere appreciation go to Mr. Ron Eid, Staff Advisor for the Rebelogue, whose patience and understanding and invaluable friendship will never be forgotten."

And you know what, Mr. Eid? I never have forgotten.

I was fortunate enough to have one stellar group of teachers throughout my entire five years at RSS. I admired many of them, learned from all of them, and to this day am an ardent supporter of the public school system--because I believe the secondary school education I received was one of the finest.

But you were my hero. Not only as a teacher, but as a passionate and committed OSSTF contributor and warm, caring and quite funny human being. There was a rumour going around several years ago that you'd been fired from teaching for swearing at a student. And while I didn't doubt that you probably had sworn--I'm pretty sure you did back in my day too...just the occasional "dammit" or "shit" though...nothing major, especially these days when people can say "fuck" on television. But in those days we didn't go running home tattling to our mommies if a teacher said a bad word or even acted in more inappropriate ways. Maybe kids today are more aware of their rights than we ever were, but sometimes I think it gets in the way of learning...and even the mildest slight or "politically incorrect" speaking or behaviour is taken far too seriously.

Teachers like you Mr. Eid--who wore their passion on their sleeves and weren't afraid to speak their minds--are rapidly becoming extinct, if they haven't become extinct already.

It saddens me that I did not take the opportunity while you were still alive to reconnect with you as an adult and tell you how well you taught me and how well I learned. But at least my genuine words about you in the 1975/76 Rebelogue live on forever...just like my fond and vivid memories of you.

Comments

[Thinkinaboutcha]

I only wish I had been as aware and forthcoming with my teachers as you were Karen. My guess is that Mr. Eid knew exactly how you felt about him, and it's clear that he respected you as well.

[Alex Eid]

Karma moment to happen across this blog article. One thing to know your father, another to hear someone else speak of the man you know. He went on to work for Xerox for more then 20 years, thought the xeroxing machine was going to be the next best thing.

Lovely article, he is missed by many family, friends and those he touched along the way.

2nd son! Alex

[Stories from South of Detroit]

Alex, I was completely thrilled to see your comment. THANK YOU...for taking the time to read my blog, and for commenting on the post I wrote about your dad. You sure look like him (minus white hair!) I miss him too... xxxooo