Why I Now Believe That Fate Took Me Into Her Hands to Find My “Dad”

I met a man.

He pushed me to become more than I was. The first supporter of my unseen potential. He was one of a kind. A grade 13 Calculus teacher.

A strange man. A big man at 6’ 4” with salt and pepper curly locks. With a barrelled chest. He fit my expectations of what Einstein would’ve been like if he was tall.

Funny. A stroke or two of genius in him, for sure. A mad scientist persona. Bigger than life. Great man.

On the first day, I settled into a seat at the back of his class. I wondered how I ended up in this course. Calculus, I mean, for real? Ewwww.

To this day, I have a great passion for math. That passion is to run as far away from it as possible. I’m good to leave the math up to those who love it. I can pay someone to figure out any math issues I need to do. It’s not that I don’t enjoy numbers, I do. Especially if they’re in the black in my bank account. Throw in some formulas, nope. Not interested. Thank you.

So why I was in that class?

There were six courses available. I lucked out with calculus. Niiice. My thoughts were on small challenges.

On the first day, I watched the teacher crouch down behind his desk as if he’d dropped something. To my surprise. Whoosh, he sprang up from his coiled position. Like a graceful feline. He landed right on top of his desk.

HOLY SNAPPING TURTLES BATMAN!

Impressive. It’s not what I thought this class would be.

As he stood there, his gaze touched each pupil’s head.

He looked at us and asked, “Are you afraid of me?”

We roared with laughter.

“No”, was the reply from the middle of the room.

“Then why are you hiding in the back row? Come up to the front where I can see your beautiful faces,” he said with a grin. He beckoned us forward with his right hand. His left hand held his chalk. “I won’t hurt you.”

In unison, the class moved closer to the front. He alit from his desk and began the lesson of the day. He scribbled a formula on the board, as I became lost in my thoughts.

Looking at him, I was baffled. Who was this crazy man, I wondered. All at once, a strange thought raced through my head. I wanted to know what kind of woman would EVER be attracted to him.

Two weeks later, I moved to a city six hours away. Never to see my peculiar math teacher, again.

I quit grade 13. It wasn’t a requirement for graduation. Life was good.

From time to time I wondered about my eccentric teacher. I would relive the memory of my first day in his class.

Time passed

I moved back home six months later. I got a job. A few years later, I moved in with a guy. Had a child. My child went to school. The years rolled by.

I received a call at work, one day. Rarely did that occur, back then. It was my mom. Oh no what’s wrong, I thought.

”I’m staying at your house tonight” she said.

Fighting for a quick answer, I fumbled my reply. She was in a relationship that passed it’s “best-before-date”, a while ago. I just didn’t know it at the time.

She explained further that she wanted me to cover for her. OMG. Of course, I said as I laughed and told her she wasn’t setting a good example for me.

I wondered who her new beau was. I called my sister. No information there. It was a mystery. We were sure to find out. Sooner, or later. And we did. It was a while though. It was only fair to give her room to grow relationships, like she let us grow ours.

Yep, ten years after I wondered what kind of woman would ever be attracted to my calculus teacher, I found out! That woman was … my Mom!

GRAMPA D.

What a wonderful loving stepfather he turned out to be. Great, adorable, crazy and oh so loveable. We were all his kids. Everyone was special and so was he to us. He made us a beautiful loving home to go to. Always a beacon of joy. No judgment. An ear to listen with and the biggest heart of all. We were blessed. I’m not sure if we loved him or he loved us more.

Ever the calculus teacher though. On family get togethers, he’d greet each one of us at the door. There he’d hand out papers to each one of us as we came in. Didn’t matter what time of year or holiday season. Up the stairs, we all trudged to do our “homework”. Adults and children alike. His big kitchen table sat twelve. Pencils at the ready, you’d sit down to figure out the answer to his question.

Calculus formulas to solve a quadratic equation that led to an obscure piece of poetry. Emily Dickinson was his favourite. It’s fortunate that I happen to have a twin who loves math. She’d work out the answer. She’d tell me. I never had to do it. I’m quite sure he knew.

I no longer wonder why I was in that calculus class. The universe wanted to introduce me to my “Dad”.

~ Elle