The Horrocks

     Today we celebrated amongst other things, a LST teacher at our elementary school who has retired. He doesn't seem old enough to retire; he rode his bike from Crescent Beach to school and back again every day he taught. And he infused his time with our children with such intelligence, humour and cool warmth that to type these words makes my eyes fill with tears. Am I a fan--- you bet your life I am! Anyone who can make a room and everyone in it sing like he does, is more than alright with me. And that was just in his spare time.
     A LST according to The Free Dictionary, stands for 43 other things but as far as I know, it means Learning Support Teacher. That means that you are not a LST teacher but just a LST. (The same as it is not "two twins", it's just "twins".) But this man was not just a LST. He read with the kids, told stories to the kids, played cards and other games with the kids, did sports with the kids, sang and played his guitar and taught songs to the kids...our kids. And if they needed extra help, they got it, along with a thoughtfully written report outlining what was done, what was needed, how to support learning at home.
     The fact that his last name almost rhymes with the name of a famous Dr. Seuss story is just a bonus. The kids narrated and sang and sang and sang today and it was a beautiful thing. It was our small salute to this wonderful man who apparently will miss the company of children. Today was a day about a man I will never forget...and neither will my children. Thank you Mr. H!

    The Horrocks              (With apologies to Dr. Seuss)

At the far end of town

Where the Grickle-grass grows

And the wind smells sweet and country-like when it blows

And lots of birds sing, even the old crows

Is the School of the Retired Horrocks.

And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,

If you look deep enough you can still see, today,

Where the Horrocks once taught

Just as long as he ought

Before something retired the Horrocks, they say.

Who was the Horrocks?

And why was he there?

And why was he retired and riding off somewhere

From the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?

The old Red Hawk still lives here.

Ask him. He knows.

“Now I’ll tell you,” he says with his beak sounding gray,

“How the Horrocks got retired and rode away….

It all started way back…

Such a long, long time back….

All of a sudden….

Something popped out from behind the door

Of the room I’d knocked on… It was really a man.

Describe him? That’s hard. I don’t know if I can.

He was tallish. And oldish.

And pinkish. And mossy.

And he spoke with a voice

That was sharpish and bossy.

“Kids!” he said with a sneeze quite long,

I am the Horrocks. I sing for the songs.

I sing for the songs, for the songs have no tongues,

And I’m asking you kids, at the top of my lungs”---

He was not at all upset as he shouted and ran ---

“What’s that THING you’ve done with those songs that we sang?”

The Horrocks said nothing. Just gave me a glance….

Just gave me a happy-sad backward glance…

As he lifted himself onto the seat of his bike.

And I’ll never forget the nice look on his face

When he heisted himself and took leave of this place,

Through a hole in the fence, leaving quite a trace.

And part of what the Horrocks left here in this thing

Was a small pile of voices, with the one word…

“SING.”

And we know what that means and we know how to do it,

In three part rounds, with and without music,

We know all the words because the Horrocks, he taught us

He gave us such gifts that no one could have bought us.

That’s why we will never forget him….

Why we will always thank him…

That’s why we love him.