Mr. Keenan, Where are you?

I actually wrote this post four and a half years ago. I'm resurrecting it because of an update you'll find at the bottom. 

By the time I reached high school, I was happy to blend into the background.

It really wasn't a position I can say I strived for, but I was a classic nerd with no self-esteem. Junior High (I think they call it Middle School now) is when kids just get mean, they insult each other, they pick on each other, I can't recall anyone who I can say looked out for anyone but themselves.

The popular girls didn't like me, which was okay because I didn't like them either. What was stupid in all that, was that I still longed to be one of them. One cheerleader thought it was cute to put gum in my hair in choir, which I had to cut out of my hair with someone's nail clippers. To this day I still remember her name.

I had a few friends, but for the most part, I found the kids my age to be stupid. You know, the girls that posted Donnie Osmond and Bobby Sherman pictures on their lockers, the boys who made crude comments. I remember one idiot boy making fun of me in the lunch line and when I said something back to him he said, "Oh wow, you're a real WOMAN." I said, "Yeah, so are you."

By the time I got to high school, I was happy that I just blended into the woodwork and was not drawing any more bullying. I was never asked to the prom. I didn't go on my first date until I was 18. Waa waa waa, poor me.

Sometime in early high school, they had built a vocational school that would support several area schools. During a presentation, they talked about DECA. Distributive Education Clubs of America. Ok, can we think of a more obscure name than that?

DECA was "marketing, managing and merchandising". During your junior and senior year of high school, you would attend your normal high school classes during the first half of the day and attend Central Nine Vocational/Technical School the other half.

My vision of a career was to have a job until I got married and my husband would support me while I had the babies. That was what was expected of most women of my time. Since I didn't expect much out of a job, I chose to go to Central Nine and take the Distributive Education class.

If I remember right, it was the first year of Mr. Keenan's teaching career. He was like no other teacher I ever had.

He was fresh, young and for the first time that I could remember, took an interest in my ability. The class itself was a no brainer, but because we were there a half a day, it was much more of a class of relationships, rather than just teaching.

Sometime during my junior year, Mr. Keenan began to talk about DECA, the organization. He encouraged all of us to become part of it and participate in the competition and run for state officers.

I remember him talking with me about running for state office. Me? Not me. I'm the girl that people put gum in their hair. But he kept pushing. He said that if I was elected a state officer, I would go to Chicago for the national convention in 1976 and to Anaheim, California the next year. California? Wow.

I still remember talking with my mom about Mr. Keenan's idea.

Mom worried so much about us kids, especially if it might involve getting our hopes up and having them dashed. When I told her about flying to California the next year if I won, she was really not for it.

Mr. Keenan wanted to come and talk with our parents about running for office. I told mom that he shouldn't come talk to them because he would change their mind. I remember telling Mr. Keenan that I could not run for state office because my mom did not want me to.

Mom told me later that it was our elder neighbor that helped her see things differently.

Romanza lived across the street from us and she and her husband Ode were like my grandparents. It seems that mom's greater fear, other than me getting my hopes dashed was me getting on an airplane.

Romanza told mom to not hold me back because of HER fears. I think mom had not realized until then that that was the real reason for her not wanting me to run for the office. Although I don't recall the conversation, at some point mom and dad decided I could run for state office.

The state conference was held at the French Lick Sheraton. I'm pretty sure that was the name of it at that time. My Aunt Rita lived just off the golf course and the hotel was long past it's heyday (not so much anymore, thanks to Mr. Koch, French Lick and West Baden has been restored to magnificant grandeur).

It was a weekend conference and the night before I was to give a campaign speech, while joking with the other students, my Coke-bottle glasses fell off my head and tumbed out the 4th floor of the hotel in what seemed like slow motion. We found them twisted like a pretzel with the lenses busted. I spent the rest of the weekend virtually blind.

When Mr. Keenan found out, he said, "DO NOT mention this in your speech. No excuses." I rewrote my speech in very large letters on the cards and spoke in front of around 500 other DECA students. I believe that being unable to see the crowd most likely helped me to overcome a fear of speaking in front of the public. I can still do it today if I have to, but it's not something I readily volunteer for.

My opponent was a tall, good looking popular girl from another school who, when I met her in the hallway KNEW she had the election all wrapped up. I mean, why wouldn't she win, she was up against a stringy haired, nerdy, shy ugly girl? We were to be interviewed by some of the DECA officials and I remember being dwarfed by her in the hallway. Some boys walked by and flirted with her. I don't even think any of them knew I was even there. I was used it.

A couple hours before the speech one of the other girls running from our school for a different office had rewritten her speech to be nearly identical to mine. I panicked. I hurriedly rewrote mine, again with HUGE grade school letters so I could read them without holding them 3 inches from my face.

We had dinner first and I remember I was so nervous I could barely eat. And I was funny. I mean, I had always blended into the background, but here I was sitting at our table cracking jokes and people were laughing. When did I become confident enough to be funny?

I got up to give my speech and was surprised that I could do it. When I listened to the girl who,the night before looked down at her nose at me because she knew she would win, I was a little surprised. She wasn't very good. She sounded stupid and nervous. But I still didn't believe I would win.

I did. By a landslide. This ugly nerdy blind girl won the State Secretary of the Distributive Education Clubs of America.

Yeah, yeah, I know it's not the Nobel Peace Prize. I figured that out already.

But I can honestly say, it was a defining moment in determining who I could be and who I am today. It made me realize that the stupid broad who put gum in my hair did not define me. I was capable of defining who I am and what I could do.

Would that have been possible without Mr. Keenan's encouragement and friendship?

I would have to answer that No it would not have. I would not have had the courage to run, I would not have had the confidence he helped me build.

When we graduated, I wrote Mr. Keenan a letter. He was considering moving to California and not teaching. I told him that would be a mistake for him to never teach again.

I do not know what ever happened with him. I wish I did. There are only a handful of people in your life that make a difference. He was one that changed my outlook on life and myself.

He inspired me and I want to thank him all over again.

Where are you Jim Keenan? I hope you are still inspiring young kids who think they will forever blend into the woodwork.

You made a difference. I can't imagine a more noble career.

UPDATE:  A couple years ago I got an email from the scam (ish) website classmates.com from Mr. Keenan. Of course I couldn't read the email unless I signed up for it. I decided to send a check (because I did NOT want classmates.com to have access to charge my account. A  three month subscription was $7.95.  

When they finally processed the check, I found the email.  And for some strange reason he didn't include any contact information. I think he assumed I could reply.  Of course I did through classmates, but then he would have to sign up to read it. Ugh, can't they find a better business model than this?  Facebook sure managed to find a way. 

In my reply I sent my email information and gave him an snapshot of my life since 1977.  And by then, he was gone. Nothing, nada, zip. 

Tonight I was checking an email I use mainly for my profession. I saw some cryptic message, which I was certain was some spam,   Only "hey, I'm about ready to retire and I still make it to Indy sometimes.  Next time you're in Fort Myers, give me a call. We live just an hour away.  Jim."  The email address looked odd, not like someone's name. 

I racked my brain who Jim was and with mentioning both Indy and Fort Myers, I felt it was likely someone I had to know. 

Then slowly I began to wonder IF this mysterious Jim, was my Mr. Keenan. 

I googled the phone number and about 6 entries down, I found a high school document that had a telephone number next to my absolutely favorite teacher's name. 

Let's see, that means he has been inspiring young people for 36 years now.