Mr. Duval 

Hey Stevie,

You know how everyone has a story with Mr. Duval? Some call him Coach, a saint, or their favorite substitute teacher. Stories about him would bubble up like a spring whenever people would talk about school. He was a pillar of the community. I’d hear my friends being touched by his words quite often. They’d each have a vivid memory of a phrase or two that he had said to them. For McCarth, she remembered that he told her that she was a smart kid when she was downtrodden. For a guy named Dobs, when he was about to be sent to the office for misbehavior, Mr. Duval stopped the teacher and said, “Don’t send him to the office. He’s just a good kid having a bad day.” A few years later when Dobs saw Mr. Duval again, he said, “See, I knew you’d turn out great.” 

Besides individual interactions, you’d see him do wonders in the classroom. He never demanded respect from students nor did he need to ever punish someone, besides when he put a kid in a headlock that one time. No students ever tried to disrespect him. Even the clowns would stop honking in front of him. Often you’d hear him say, “Seeing you kids makes me comfortable about the future of America,” giving us hope and encouragement. It was what he did best. Sometimes through deep stories of his life, jokes, or movies, he would always try to propel us some way or another. I’ve never forgotten the lessons he has taught me.

For my Mr. Duval Moment, I look back at middle school. I went through something kinda weird. To a certain extent I kinda just gave up on all of my dreams and whatnot. I don’t really know why I did, but I was satisfied with mediocrity. I thought that it would be pretty easy to land a good job and settle down anywhere. Ngl, all I needed to do was just inherit my parent’s restaurant or just get into the trades or somethin’. I wouldn’t have ever needed to worry about anything again besides the type of food I wanted to eat or the next thing that would keep me busy. 

At a certain point, I put this mindset deep into my heart. I would walk through B floor past all the tan lockers, the yellow wall adorned with plaques, the remodeled library, and arrive at the end of the hall at Mr. J’s room where Lucious, Bangle, and I would just talk about crap during seminar. I'd brag about being happy with my plan to never be exceptional quite often. With a strong glint in my eye and a beat to my step, I would try to sell that lifestyle like a wandering merchant peddling crappy trinkets. The others would always listen, but no one ever told me what I was thinking was stupid or anything. They probably didn’t think much of it, to be honest. They were always preoccupied with the latest trends and jokes. Paying attention to each other's lives wasn’t the focal point of our time spent together, I suppose. I’d hear more about random celebrities that I didn’t care about more than I heard about their lives. At a certain point, I knew a LeafyWasHere more than I knew a Lucious Waxoff. 

Back to me, I knew I had a good head on my shoulders. The stable future ahead of me was easier to obtain than anything. I got good grades, followed the rules, and held my breath every time I went to C floor where all the seniors were. For some reason, I was intimidated by them and thought that I probably shouldn’t breathe the same air as them. Besides that odd practice that I now realize was utterly cringe, I felt utterly confident in my way of life. To a point where it was second nature to me. I really made it a routine to just tell everybody about my spectacular view of my future. No matter the circumstances, I felt that whatever I said was life-changing for others. I felt like I was spreading good news or whatever. 

This thought process made me realize that I have a lot of agency over my life. If I wasn’t going to become a big shot in life, I might as well have fun and mess with people. I’d do a lot of rambunctious stunts all around school finding a new sense of power. I was the definition of haughty. I had no semblance of fear. I had the confidence of a musk ox. I walked the halls with an impact with each step. No one could stop me. 

As time passed, I would scour the halls with my deep gaze. On B floor, I would pass the crap-filled lockers, the weird piss-yellow wall with nothing worth looking at, the poorly remodeled library and Oh! At the end of the hall was Mr. Duval, my favorite substitute teacher. A well-lived man who always dressed well in a comfortable dark-colored suit and fall-colored ties. He stood straight with round glasses that accompanied his gentle graying hair. As usual with a great smile on his face, Mr. Duval greeted me. Immediately, I answered him with my sales pitch of a mediocre life. Soon, I saw his smile turning a little solemn. I don’t remember the exact details of what he said or did, but I remember a massive feeling of relief, gratitude, and emotion that I can not ever forget. 

Mr. Duval pulled me to the side where the dull bronze plaques were. He stared straight into my eyes and stated something on the gist of, “Tony, you are a smart and talented young man. You shouldn’t settle for just average. You can do so much in this world.” I felt a pat on my shoulder as he walked back into the classroom. The Bronze plaques started to shine a little bit more in my eyes.