Mr. Kerr

I've been thinking about Mr. Kerr today, after emailing with a friend. Mr. Kerr was a 6' 7" red-headed beanpole who taught math and science at my high school, and was brutally killed there during a football game.

Mr. Kerr loved geometry. He was one of those teachers who lit up the room when he taught. A tall guy so full of energy the front of the room could barely contain him, and he loved to teach. His students were his whole life. In his mid-thirties he still lived with his mother. He was one of the first teachers to arrive at the school and one of the last to leave at the end of the day. He went to just about every game - football, basketball, whatever, just so he could cheer his students on.

At football games he always sat on the top row of the old metal bleachers we had. He liked to be up top there because, as he often said, he wasn't used to people looking down at him. On the day he was killed he was sitting on the top bench as usual.

It was a hot day, with thunderstorms in the distance. In the first half of the game, out of nowhere, a lightning bolt exploded out of the sky and slammed into the metal bleachers. It entered the bleachers through the top of Mr. Kerr's head. Some students sitting on the lower seats were thrown off. A few had serious burns. Mr. Kerr? Toast. Burned toast. Totally unrecognizable - all the energy of the lightning had passed through him while going to ground.

He was such a good teacher.
So sad.