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Teachers Make Good Friends Too | My Encounters with Mr. Z

I’d never had a history teacher like him before.

It was my first day of classes at ����ԭ��. Already overwhelmed by the assignments in my Composition syllabus (my first class) that morning, I was worried about the heavy assignments I was sure that Modern World had in store for me. After finding a desk in a classroom with thirty-eight other students, I sat down and nervously waited for the teacher to arrive.

After a few moments, a medium-built man strode to the front of the room in a flurry of excitement. He smoothed out his blue Hawaiian shirt, pushed back his silver hair, and grinned at us, his 70s mustache spreading wide. “Welcome to Modern World,” he proclaimed in a broad, nasal voice. “My name is Michael Zwolanek, but everyone calls me Mr. Z. As you’ll see, things aren’t always what you think they are, so we should get started because there’s a lot to handle before we’re through.” He talked in an amusing way, and when I heard it, I laughed. Distracted from my worries, Mr. Z’s teaching style put me completely at ease.

Throughout the semester, I found myself recording some of Mr. Z’s funniest comments. He said that Louis XIV’s taxation of the poor was “probably not a groovy move,” and that the friar from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales “swapped his gold to get some bling.” Mr. Z moved back a test one day and declared, “[Napoleon was] grumpy about it, but that’s how he is.” Mr. Z’s classes were both entertaining and stimulating, yet he puzzled me. I asked myself, “Who is this bizarre teacher?”

Over the next several months, however, I came to know Mr. Z personally. A few times, I visited his office—he calls it “the cage”—to talk with him. And each time, our conversations were a collision of intellectualism, oddities, and of course, history. Once, we talked about books, and he told me about how books had such an influence on his childhood and how he tried to read as many as he could. As a second-grader, he read a biography of Thomas Jefferson; as a fourth-grader, he read A Tale of Two Cities. When his parents wanted him to spend more time outside, he ventured out clasping a book. Books were his escape: in a book, he could explore lands without the shackles of his childhood or discuss ideas without looking foolish. Books made him into a life-long learner, and they gave him the desire to teach.

Now, every time I’ve interacted with Mr. Z, he teaches me something. He probably can’t help it: he is a teacher by nature. “That’s an interesting point, Josiah. Why don’t you go research it some more? Send me an email once you reach a conclusion.” It’s not as if he has ever brushed me off (and it would be difficult for him to appear condescending with such a mustache). No, he has always cared about my intellectual growth. He once told me that his goal as a teacher is to help make his students into life-long learners—always looking for the explanations behind their observations. “Learners are more disciplined,” he says, “than anyone else. They care about the future, and they lead others onward.”

The sort of learning Mr. Z champions extends beyond the classroom, beyond academics. He pushes his students to seek God. He wants them to see that unlike this messy modern world, God is consistent and understandable. He has a perfect plan for each of His children. For all his spontaneity, Mr. Z gives wise, dependable advice. But he’s also not afraid to admit his insufficiency—he’ll pray with his students at the drop of a hat. His love for his students outshines his love for teaching.

Now, when I see Mr. Z around campus, I think of more than his dad jokes and his Hawaiian shirts. I think of his love for learning and his love of the truth. I also think of his care for his students—and his care for me. His influence goes beyond his classes to the lives he touches. And his faithfulness motivates me.

He says it this way: “This is what it means to know God—though I fail all the time, He says get back up. Do it again. Get at it. And when I do, it brings Him glory. That’s what it’s all about.”

See? Even teachers in Hawaiian shirts can be inspirational.

Josiah Knight is a senior majoring in Humanities. This article was written as partial fulfillment of the requirements for Advanced Writing.