Day 33 - Mr. Hasinoff

Grade four.
Mr. Hasinoff. 
My first male teacher.
A great first. 

He must have been young because during his year with us, he and his wife had their first baby. But, at eight years old, he looked ancient to me. . .and sooo tall, at least five-foot-seven! I remember Mr. Hasinoff having red, curly hair, but I also remember baldness. I could walk downstairs and check the yearbook in my cedar chest…but I might never come back, because those memories can suck me in. 

Mr. Hasinoff helped me feel calm. I never liked school start up, too many unpredictable variables: who would the teacher be, what would they be like, who would be in my class, and would I know anyone? He talked to us; he didn’t yell. He walked around the classroom a lot; he checked in on how we were doing. He intercepted a lot of notes that way! And he walked with us all the way to the gymnasium to make sure we didn’t get lost. 

By the spring, I’d proclaimed him my favourite teacher. Every year, my mom planned one day when me and my siblings would each bring a teacher home for lunch. I know, right? I chose Mr. Hasinoff. We walked out of the school together, that giant with the red tufts of hair amidst baldness, and down the sidewalk toward my house, which was only seven or eight houses away from the school parking lot. I have no idea what we ate; I hope it wasn’t beans and wieners. I had made his baby a present—a footprint in felt, with the baby’s name in macaroni. The name began with a B.

Mr. Hasinoff instilled in us calm confidence. I believe we tried harder just knowing how pleased he would be by our results. 

Recently—you loyal blog readers would know—I quit the daily loonie spending a bit earlier than anticipated. Part of me saw that as a failure, because it felt like I took the easy path, amidst family chaos and overwhelm. 

But then—weeks later—I turned my gaze toward something new: inspiration and joy. 

I received a response to my last blog posting that reminded me of Mr. Hasinoff, and what I have been trying to do this whole time. 

She wrote, “I have admired your One Looney idea project, and wondered how you were able to stay so focussed. I don't see your ending this segment of daily commitment as failure. 
As a teacher once said to me "There is no such word as quitting, only a tank full of try". 
Doesn't that say it all?”