Faux-Parent, Teacher, Confidant, and most of all Friend. "Homeroom" David Bedell was an alcohol drinking depressant who made you laugh, until you cried. He was a soft-spoken Beatnik with loud ideas and wore the same turtleneck in only two basic styles. Short sleeve for Summer, and long-sleeved for Winter. Sometimes his Celtic tattoo would peak through depending on how short his sleeves were that day. Along with his eclectic style, he wore his heart on his sleeve just like the rest of us. The depressed and intellectual artists. He was a widow, and his wife battled breast cancer, as he then turned to alcohol. When he wasn't confiding in us about his personal journey, he spoke to us about the complexities of life, or how it could be difficult being a teenager, and my all-time personal favorite: "The real meaning behind the Middle Finger!" He went into full detail about that one! He was so real. The more "conservative" teachers were intimidated by his demeanor and structure, although in the end, he was one of the most well-respected educators at that time.
Mom picked us up after school, and since we had the same route, we would wave to David. One day on our typical route, I see Mr. Bedell and the guitar teacher carpooling together. David is sitting in the passenger with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, turns to us and waves. I loved his smile. Seeing my teachers hotbox their vehicle for the first time made me really humanize David. Of course he smoked. All the cool people smoked! Just Like the Europeans! And that cool dude was MY TEACHER!
David pushed us, as any amazing teacher would. I was in class "B". We were the struggling, sub-par students who couldn't pass basic algebra. I, among mostly horny and loud children with rotten eggs for brains, hung out with the bad boys, and that year was the first time I tried a "pill". We slept through Bedell's class. It was way too intense for our developing brains! I still don't know what that mystery pill was but me and the others were kept safe through it all. I am confident he knew, but he allowed us four to sleep through it anyway, and never once did he mention it. After all, it was homeroom, and sometimes if he wasn't giving us the speech of OUR lifetime, he too didn't give a shit. His class was a liberal arts social hour. Besides being high that one time in 2008, I looked forward to that class. He made it worth it.
That year, with no surprise, I hardly graduated 8th grade. A few weeks before the big day, a group of my favorite teachers invited me in for a meeting. Homeroom Mr. Bedell, Ms. Brown who taught Art, and Mrs. Spoon my English/Writing. I was asked to speak for my class. The straight A students were extremely shy (and awkward) and I was next in running. It was wild! They pushed me out of my comfort zone and believed in me. That was the first and last time my squirrely mind and public speaking was put to use. I didn't fear crowds, I loved the attention. I made Mom proud. That was an incredible feeling.
Years went by and I saw him less and less, and far in between. He drastically lost weight and changed hues. Bedell still struggled with Alcohol, and later succumbed to his addiction. I never asked questions, I still don't know what truly took his life.
It still hurts me, but I believe His legacy still lives on. I hope he knows we are still thinking of him, because I sure am. He was well traveled and lived through it all. Perhaps he just wanted to be with his Wife again.
I toast to Mr. Bedell. One of the greatest fucking middle school teachers. Long Live Bedell. The most Punk of em all.
