There’s a wonderful episode of “The Wonder Years” (aren’t they all?) called “Math Class.” The synopsis is Kevin Arnold, usually a good student, struggles mightily with Mr. Collins, a stern and seemingly emotionless teacher straight out of the old school.
Kevin flails away before finally swallowing his pride and asking Mr. Collins for help. In the process, Kevin builds what he believes is a bond with his teacher, only to discover that the strait-laced Mr. Collins is strictly business and doing his job.
Kevin being Kevin, he rebels by intentionally tanking on a test to show Mr. Collins that he doesn’t see him as a friend, either. What the student doesn’t realize is that the teacher is terminally ill with a heart condition and dies the weekend after the big test.
“Mr. Collins had so much respect from his fellow teachers,” Principal Diperna says when breaking the news to students. “He was a fine man; a fine teacher.”
Naturally, Kevin feels terrible. He also learns that Mr. Collins had thrown away the test he purposefully failed, and the interim teacher (Principal Diperna) gives him an opportunity to take the test again.
I thought of “Math Class” immediately after learning that one of my high school teachers, Kathy Boyce, passed away on Christmas morning. She was Burlingame High School’s version of Mr. Collins.
Mrs. Boyce was from the old school, too. She was strict, but fair, and she had high standards. She also had low tolerance for bullshit, which is plentiful in adolescence. To be blunt, I didn’t like Mrs. Boyce at first.
Though her wheelhouse was English comp and literature, there isn’t much room for specialization in a small Kansas high school. So, Mrs. Boyce also served as the sponsor of my class (1994) and taught geometry.
Geometry was the first class I took from Mrs. Boyce. Until that point, I was pretty good at math and typically took advanced courses. That all ended with shapes, sizes, angles and the relative position of figures. Frankly, I hated the class, and for the first time, I couldn’t get a handle on a subject in a math course. I actually worked hard just to scrape by with Cs for all four quarters.
Being young and selfish, I blamed Mrs. Boyce, of course. By the time my sophomore year ended, I thoroughly disliked her. Imagine my disgust – and fear – when I learned that she was teaching my comp and literature courses as a junior and senior.
Kathy’s teaching didn’t change. She was still demanding. Her classes were hard. But a funny thing happened in those classes … I realized how much I was learning about writing and proving a point through words. I also realized how much I liked reading.
As I started investing more in her classes, I noticed Mrs. Boyce laughed a little more at my jokes. She even seemed to appreciate the Steve (my best friend) and Ernie Show, though she did move us to opposite corners of her classroom after one too many disruptions.
“The Wonder Years” was a massive hit during the twilight years of Kathy’s career, with episodes like “Math Class” tugging at many of our nostalgic hearts. Mr. Collins, portrayed by Steven Gilborn, appeared in three episodes, including “Goodbye,” the sequel to “Math Class.”
At the end of “Goodbye,” Kevin aces the major test, looking up at Mr. Diperna and saying, “You don’t have to grade it, it’s an A.” He then stands and walks to the doorway of the classroom, where he looks back to see Mr. Collins at his desk. Mr. Collins says “Mr. Arnold,” and Kevin replies, “Good job, Mr. Collins.” The episode concludes with a tearjerker of a photo montage and Linda Ronstadt’s “Goodbye My Friend” playing in the background.
When I think of Mrs. Boyce, I will always think of her writing “says who?” on any paper that did not prove its point. I’ll also think of her saying “When you assume something, you make an ass out of you and me.”
A few weeks before Kathy died, my mother-in-law (one of Mrs. Boyce’s proteges and one of my writing mentors) gave Mrs. Boyce a copy of my first book. I sincerely hope she had a chance to read some of it. I never write it without her comp and literature classes.
Good job, Mrs. Boyce.