Mr. Pincus, the embodiment of a teacher.
A teacher who taught science, but
Specialized in people. In my time: Preteens.
You took us outside and blew cigarette
Smoke onto paper, the hole grew slowly
burning brown and black.
A warning you gave us: trying to
Protect us.
You were a man who took caring and teaching
Beyond the classroom. Educating us in subjects like music,
And life, and even taking the time to make mix tapes
For my sister, teaching her what “real music was”.
What you did for us was beyond what it states in
Resume.
Whether as DJ or as teacher you commanded our attention,
And your presence was well known whether on dance floor
Or in classroom.
Your style of living was contagious,
Your memory a lesson taught.
A friend to all, with the ability to make us laugh while
Teaching us too. You liked to humor us,
Satisfying our curious and easily
Excited minds: You poured clear
Liquid onto your black, marble desk and turned out the lights.
You ignited the fire,
One pull of a match on your teeth,
Which jumped in new life.
We all gathered around, cooing at the light,
Orange and red,
Dancing in front of us.
And your eyes swam with the light
as we laughed and awed.
I could see your eyes were filled with something,
You were filled with the eyes of a father,
Watching us with
Amusement, and
Pride.
Still awed at us, awed at you:
Mr. Pincus, if you set out to impact one student’s life,
You have done so in me, and in others
Exponentially.
Mr. Pincus: the man whose breath burned a whole in paper,
A man who made fire dance for us,
A man and a father who specialized in people,
And a teacher who specialized in Me.
May you Rest in the Sweetest Peace.
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