When I went to high school at Saint Adademy, definitely the most-hated faculty member there was Stark. He was a classic “Type A” personality: aggressive, confrontational, controlling. On the upside, he had a scintillating wit and stellar organizational skills, so the school actually prospered when he took over one of its classes. He was a pretty good Chapel Speaker, capable of putting together convincing orations and using sufficient scare tactics to put the Fear of Hellfire in a kid. He was also the Basketball Coach, and since he was an asshole just like most Basketball Coaches should be, our Basketball Team prospered also. We won the State Convention Championship under his leadership. He tended to form an initial opinion of you and stick with it, positive or negative. I remember he really seemed to dislike me and my Brother, while he took a liking to Bill.
I remember a few things about him. Like how he got in a fight at a basketball game with a rival coach named Brother Nathaniel. Or how he would complain about other faculty members and men of the church — even the Pastor! — behind their backs. Or how he always had a way of putting people down and making them feel insignificant. He supported Corporal Punishment, of course, but he also supported bullying … not in any ridiculously oppressive sense, but he definitely felt that an argument could be confidently resolved with a slug to the jaw.
There’s one particular encounter with him that I’ve always enjoyed re-telling. I had taken to neglecting to wear my belt to school, a no-no as far as the dress code was concerned. Since you were also required to tuck your shirt in, it was immediately apparent that I wasn’t wearing a belt.
Normally nobody cared, but for awhile there Stark went on a tear of constantly correcting people about their dress, so on this day he confronted me and asked, “caco, why aren’t you wearing your belt?”
I said, “I forgot it at home.”
He asked, “Don’t you think your parents will be mad at you when they have to come back out here and bring you your belt?”
And I sneered, “Oh, they’ll be mad, but they won’t be mad at me.”
Stark’s face grew red as he turned his head to one side and spat, “I swear, kids these days are so sarcastic…” He stalked off, enraged but unable to muster a comeback.
Stark was the Ultimate Villain to me while I was there. I would write silly little Mary Sue fanfics where he was the antagonist, secretly manipulating every faculty member in the school behind the scenes, to his benefit and the detriment of the students. I even made a video game where he was the final boss; I think I described it in a previous entry.
When I graduated from Saint, he gave every member of my graduating class a gift except me. He did the same thing to my brother. My Granny Bernadette always especially resented him for that, and she brought it up for many years afterward.
Long after I graduated, Stark went into the hospital once for chest pains, and I felt guilty that I had hated him for all those years. So I thought I might visit him and make amends. I think I even mentioned it in a previous entry to this journal. But I never did. I just let things be. I wonder if he still even remembers me, because I sure remember him.