Philip McTernan - HS English

Dear Mr. Mcternan,

Just a few weeks ago I actually found myself searching your name, wondering what you were up to, where you were. It had been twenty years since I first wandered into your classroom. It was one of the few electives I was truly able to choose for myself, and with a title like Literature of War I was hoping for more than a few stories of soldiers tossed to the meat grinder, explosions and all the other things that teenage boys glamorize from a safe distance. As you placed the syllabus down in front of us there were no familiar titles, no All Quiet on The Western Front or For Whom The Bell Tolls. Instead a novel called The Tesseract by Alex Garland that took place on the streets of Manila, another called Brazaville Beach about…gorillas? I was confused, even a bit disappointed- what about the war part? This was all just…literature…

But then you began to explain the course, the rangy timbre of your voice filling our impressionable ears with stark philosophical statements on the multiple definitions and meanings behind that word war. The psychological and spiritual wars that haunt the characters of the Tesseract, the violence of poverty and of greed. The innateness of war as it is explored in Brazaville Beach, ideas of genetic dispositions for violence or perhaps our unique enjoyment of it…it was heady stuff. I loved the way you pushed us, not allowing us to be satisfied or comfortable with our first impressions of things, for decoding language in such unique and tantalizing ways, for challenging our preconceptions, biases- I really did find your class exhilarating.

And For one of the only times in my academic life, even homework wasn’t a chore- rather a crucial necessity to be able to engage with you and your brilliant mind in class. I so admired your mind. It’s nimbleness, profound ability to find hidden meanings and connections in the written word- nothing was better than a round table discussion in that class. Unless you failed to do the homework, which I did- only once- at which time I also discovered just how attuned your nose was for bullshit— I only made that mistake once.

I guess I wanted to speak today to say thank you. Thank you for dedicating your life to teaching. For guiding and inspiring young people and for showing them their capability of higher thinking and writing. Thank you for your wit, your directness, uncompromising standards and patience. Thank you for seeing me, for engaging my curiosity, for challenging so many of my assumptions and habits. Thank you for attending my play junior year, and for penning startlingly kind words about the production in the school newspaper. That was and is one of my greatest thrills as a performer, to be recognized by someone I respected so much. We are all here because you gave us so many gifts as a teacher and mentor. I hope in your life you knew just how much of a gem you were. We are all better people for having known you. Rest in Power Mr. Mcternan.

-Austin Farwell '01