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My first impression of High School was the yawning double doors beckoning entrance, yet blocked by a towering denim clad flannel shirt with one arm cutoff to reveal a missing limb, a laser like scrutiny glinting in his eyes. He was a formidable wall, with a gaze fixed on every detail.


To my surprise, my first period teacher revealed the identity of the mystery man when she announced that she was sure we had all met the doorman, Roc.
"Don't try to skirt the dress code" she explained. "And don't be late. Roc likes punctuality". According to the school board classification Roc was the custodian, but as time passed she said we would come to view him as much more than just a simple janitor. She had no reservations in informing us that Roc was not only here to restore order to the mess left behind by students with social skills still stuck in elementary school, but he was also here to teach a class that wasn't offered in any classroom. That subject was humility, humanity, and modesty. I panicked. I wasn't even prepared for biology, much less a class taught by a one armed custodian, not even on my schedule as to where or when it met.
As the first year progressed, I did however, have many opportunities to attend Roc's classes. He was assistant coach for the football team, throwing and catching with one arm as great as Johnny Unitas. He held class in the hallway, on the football field, and at the front door. I was surprised to learn he had a degree in animal psychology and was always willing to be a tutor for any needy student. ...
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