Letter to the Editor: Middle school teacher left a lasting impression

Middle School is designed to be a transitional time in the lives of every young person. An opportunity to take on new challenges, begin to adapt to added responsibility and expand their worldview as they gain independence. It is a challenging and often frustrating experience for many, and for myself it was made even more difficult when my family made a sudden move to a small town in Montana called Thompson Falls.

The middle school in Thompson Falls takes its description literally. Geographically it is situated between the elementary and high schools, a physical impediment to growing up too quickly. Teachers handle different subjects, and each of them came with their own reputations and advice from friendly students. No teacher had more stories, however, than the Science teacher Mr. Rutzke.

To a newly arrived and thoroughly nervous new student, Mr. Rutzke was a mustachioed man whose personal elevation stayed low while his presence towered, whose hands defaulted to his hips while he planted his feet wide, whose eyes seemed permanently scowled and critical of the endless stream of stupidity laid at his feet. The class had a steady supply of trouble makers, who seemed to take Mr. Rutzke’s no-nonsense attitude in the classroom as a personal challenge. For ammo, he stocked up on a wide array of catch phrases and go-to jokes. Playing “the world’s smallest violin” when someone was being whiney by rubbing his fingers together, grammatical correction (“I don’t know, CAN you go to the bathroom?”). When something was vaguely or improperly worded, he would demand “SPECIFICITY, MR./MS. LASTNAME” He was confusing and loud and tough…but then came the day where my perception flipped on its head.

I had made a new friend at this school, named Buddy. We played on the basketball team together, and lived fairly close so we would wander home talking about stupid things after school. He made fun of my stupid clothes, and I made fun of his oblong head. We had classes together, one of them being science with Mr. Rutzke. After class one day, I was slow collecting my stuff and finally started to wander out when I noticed Buddy talking to Mr. Rutzke. I slowed to eavesdrop a little and barely caught the end of the conversation, when Buddy suddenly spun around and delivered two hugely exaggerated middle fingers right to Mr. Rutzke’s face before heading for the door. I froze in shock. Mr. Rutzke laughed. No, he cracked up. Shaking his head and chuckling, he turned and started clearing his desk as I exited the room. I was in awe. Buddy had been pretty cool up to that point, but he had just reached FONZIE levels of cool in my book. I ran up to him and said “Wha…how…..that was Mr. RUTZKE! I thought you were dead?”.

Buddy looked confused and asked “What?”.

“You just FLIPPED OFF MR. RUTZKE and he LAUGHED about it!”

“Well yeah man…he’s my Dad.”

Cue head explosion.

I spent a lot of time at the Rutzke’s house over the next six years, it became a second home for me. Mr. Rutzke slowly became “Frank”. Where once I saw a permanent scowl I now see permanent laugh lines from a man who never fails to crack himself up. He revels in “Dad jokes,” and nobody takes more pleasure in his wonderful wife’s eye rolls and grudging laughter than Frank. From the perspective of a sheltered kid, it was at times shocking and amazingly refreshing to watch his interactions with his family.

The world lost a leading source of biting wit, smirks and love this week. Frank has moved on to his next adventure, and I’d like to think that rather than resting in peace he is resting in sarcasm as I think he would enjoy that a whole heck of a lot more.

I often call the Rutzke’s my “Surrogate Family.” All of them make me feel valued and appreciated, and I consider it one of the luckiest moments in my life that the oblong headed kid decided I wasn’t too creepy, walking along with my all black clothes and sweet wallet chain. Over the past 21 years, Frank has gone from being the dreaded Mr. Rutzke to a father figure that shaped my appreciation for family, humor and work ethic. He helped guide and support me, and taught me so much about being a friend, son, husband and human. The only thing I never really learned from him?

Science.

Shawn Grossarth, Bellingham, Wash.