Dear Michael,
Thank you for your thoughtful and vulnerable message. I want to be clear—I’ve always considered you one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. You brought passion, creativity, and a fierce commitment to our education that left a lasting impression on me.
When I wrote to you, it wasn’t out of judgment. I simply wanted to respond thoughtfully to Rhianna and honor her experience. If that was the hardest thing she remembers from childhood, then honestly, I envy her. She had great parents who gave her a sense of safety and stability. That wasn't my experience with my folks.
You were a strong presence in a time when I needed structure and direction, even if I didn’t always understand it. Looking back, I see more clearly how much intention and care you brought to your role—even in the tough moments.
I really appreciate your openness, especially while you’re navigating so much. Please take whatever time you need. Just hearing from you like this already means a great deal.
With deep respect and gratitude,
David
Dear Mr. Braun,
I hope this message finds you well. I recently reconnected with Rhianna a little bit in conversation, and she brought up some vivid memories from our time at school—specifically involving you. Her recollection was intense, and it opened up some reflection for me.
I know you’ve spent time reflecting on your teaching style before, and I’ve appreciated your honesty—especially when you once admitted that your confidence, even arrogance, came from a deep belief in your role to maintain order and structure.
That insight stuck with me. You were a gifted teacher, and your influence—both the difficult and the deeply formative—continues to shape how I understand discipline, authority, and care.
I’m sharing this with openness, not to assign blame, but to invite another layer of reflection. Our memories may differ, but they all come from a shared history that still matters.
With respect and love, David
P.S. I still remember you as one of the best teachers I’ve ever had.
I share with you a brief interchange we had:
hey David!
sorry i went MIA- i had a tough winter. i hope you’re feeling good about the move?! where are you going? hopefully somewhere nice!
i wish i could invite you to my studio but im actually in the middle of moving too (nowhere exciting) and everything is chaos right now. haha
i think about you often- because i still can’t get over how our memories of mr. braun are so drastically different. i hated him for how he treated you.
i remember him dragging you around by the ear. he’d lift you off the ground completely and smash your head on things, including kris gilson’s head. it left quite an impression on me. you were just a child. i was upset about that for a long time, and then i finally saw you and you said it wasn’t a big deal!
i can’t wrap my mind around any of it-🤯🤪
i don’t mean to linger on the past, but no child should ever be treated the way you were by that man and i am so sorry no adults were around to protect you.
also- sorry to share this all via text… i hope you forgive me. ✨
MY REPLY
Hey Rhianna —
Thank you for this message, it really means a lot. I’m sorry to hear you had a tough winter. I get it—life has a way of pulling us under sometimes. I'm actually planning to move to Burlington soon to attend the Post-Baccalaureate Pre-Medical Program at the University of Vermont. The goal is to become a doctor of psychiatric medicine someday—something I feel deeply called to do.
I’ve genuinely been wanting to paint with you again. If things settle down on your end and you're up for it, I’d love to invite you and your partner over to my place for a couple hours of painting. I’ll cook dinner—we can keep it low-key, creative, and easy.
And about what you shared… I say again, wow, Rhianna.
It really means a lot that you remember all that—and cared enough to bring it up. I do remember those moments, probably more clearly than I let on. I think I just learned to downplay them, to keep moving forward.
Mr. Braun was complicated. He was a gifted teacher—no doubt about that—but he came from a very intense, old-school Waldorf training in Switzerland. He carried both a deep passion for teaching and a strictness that could sometimes cross a line. I actually admire that, years later, he admitted to me that he’d been arrogant. He said his confidence in his talent made him feel it was his duty to maintain order, no matter the cost. That really stuck with me.
And honestly, I think my mom and Paul may have sent me to that school for exactly that reason. They couldn’t figure out how to discipline me themselves, so they passed that responsibility on to someone else—someone with a heavy hand.
In some strange way, I think that early experience shaped me more than I realized. It probably even influenced my decision to join the Marine Corps later in life. I was trying to understand structure, discipline, and power—themes I’d felt since I was a kid, especially with the absence of a strong father figure.
But the truth is, as a child, I didn’t have a say in any of it. And you're right—no kid should ever be treated like that.
Thank you for remembering, for seeing what was really happening back then, and for carrying that memory with so much care. That kind of empathy doesn’t fade. It stays with me—and it means more than I can say.
And no apology needed for sharing this by text. I’m just really glad you reached out. Let's stay in touch. I’d love to see you before I go.
Much love,
David