In New York City in 1976, a series of murders began to set the city on edge. Over the course of about a year, six people were shot to death, and seven more were wounded by an apparent serial killer with a handgun.
The fear escalated to a fever pitch as a pair of disturbing open letters was sent to newspapers and to the police. In these letters, the killer refers to himself as “Son of Sam.”
This would later prove to be David Berkowitz, a New York resident who claimed to have heard his neighbor’s dog speaking to him—no, commanding him—to kill. His neighbor’s name was Sam, and Berkowitz claimed that a demon had possessed the dog.
Berkowitz would eventually be caught thanks to a parking ticket he got near one of his crime scenes.
This helped to set the stage for the Satanic Panic, which was something like a combination of McCarthyism with the Salem Witch Trials. By the time I entered high school life, this craze was at its peak, and my friends and I would get a lot of side-eyes due to our constant D&D playing.
This sets the stage for calculus with Mr. Oberly. Now, calculus class was widely considered to be tough. This was a college subject taught to high school kids with still-developing minds, so it took a certain gift to keep us engaged. Mr. Oberly had more of this gift than anyone I’ve ever known.
He would often sneak little wisecracks in while he was describing how “little Freddie Gauss” could add a series of a hundred numbers in his head, or he might use a Monty-Python style sidebar joke, breaking the fourth wall in class and speaking to his audience directly, poking his head out over the side of his faithful overhead projector.
Most importantly, he had nicknames for several (possibly most) of the students. Sometimes the beginnings of your first and last names might be inverted, so Brad Pitt would become Prad Bitt, for instance.
At the same time, I have to tell you that my dad was teaching math at the same high school I was attending. If this sounds horrifying to you, you certainly understand Gen X kids who grew up during the 80s, but also: my high school was enormous. It was easy for us to avoid one another.
Still, most of the kids in calculus knew who my dad was by then. The math department was big, but not that big. They also knew that my dad’s name was Sam (but they probably didn’t know that his father’s name was also Sam, and so on).
So, when Mr. Oberly dubbed me “Son of Sam”, I was actually rather delighted. Up until that point, I had been called Smandrew Ith—my junior yearbook confirms this memory—but for my senior year, Son of Sam was my moniker.
It’s hard to explain how incredible Ister Moberly really was. Giving me this nickname very easily could have backfired, but Oberly had an insane level of emotional intelligence coupled with his very high intellect. I’ve only seen this combination of attributes a handful of times in my entire life, so Oberly sticks out in my mind.
How did he know that giving me the same nickname as a serial killer from a decade and a half ago would fly? I’m not sure, but he was spot-on. Clearly, this was a play on words designed to remind me of my dad’s identity whenever I acted up, but it was also a reminder to us kids that Mr. Oberly was very much on our side.
He would joke with us just as we would joke with one another, only he’d be more clever than us. He quickly earned our admiration and trust by making us all laugh.
Did you have any teachers who knew how to skirt this line this well? Who in your life has shown both a high intellect and high emotional intelligence?
My Dad was a teacher in my school district too. Unlike you, it was a tiny school (my graduating class was larger than most at 33 students). Also, unlike you, my dad ended up being my 6th grade teacher for the entire year. What fun that was! (It wasn't too bad)
William Barwick. Taught physics.
Not one boring day in the class.
He's the one who taught me that open book tests were worse for the students because he could ask anything about the textbook even if he hadn't covered it.
How do I know that?
Because he went over in class strategies for making decisions and why picking open book could easily backfire.
He had us break into groups and make a movie over the year. Which culminated in our own Academy Awards ceremony. He showed us high speed photography and a sound machine so we could see and hear waves.
And he bounced from the moment he got to school until he drove off in his Karma Ghia.
No joke. He was a contender for Teacher in Space which Christy McAuliffe ended up winning.
Her flight was the Challenger.
After the tragedy, some high school friends and I were joking that if Barwick had been picked, we all would have assumed it would have been his fault.
"And this button here? What do we think this button does? (Mischievous eyebrow wiggle.) Let's push it and find out!"