US History was a course
That everybody took.
You had to have a teacher
And you had to read the book.
At Murphy there was one such man
That students faced with dread
If you found out that you had his class
You knew that you were dead.
Mr. Evans was his name
I know you knew him well.
He was a legend at our school
About him now I’ll tell:
He loved to scare young office aides
That interrupted class.
“What do YOU want?” he would roar,
To the timid, trembling lass.
Whatever message that she had—
No matter what the cause—
The interruption clearly meant
The lesson had to pause.
And that, my friend, was something
That broke all Big John’s laws
The lesson plan was sacred—
History must not pause!
You’d better not be tardy
To Mr. Evans’ room;
The bell would ring; the door would shut;
Locked out would be your doom.
And if you had to wee-wee,
Twas hurry up for you!
The girls at least had three minutes;
The boys, they had but two!
Neatness too was strictly forced
Around your student seat.
No trash or purses in the aisle
Or long, protruding feet.
One time a girl had left her bag
Lying in the aisle.
Mr. Evans dragged it with his foot
Round the room in style.
The US History that he taught
Was full of facts and dates,
Lazy scholars were unmasked:
Poor grades their dreaded fates.
We had to memorize such stuff
As the capitols of each state,
And names of battle sites was tough
For me at any rate.
For instance, famous Bunker Hill
Wasn’t aptly named at all,
‘Cause where the Redcoats took a loss
“Breed’s “ Hill it was, y’all.
Trick questions were his favorite ploy;
You better be prepared:
Precision learning—girl or boy
For that he really cared!
The True-false quiz he much admired
To fool half-wakened youth
A careful reading was required
To certify the truth.
“TRUE-FALSE, Gaspee, a British ship was burned
And sunk” it said.
“Off west coast off Rhode Island,”
The question further read.
TRUE, some guessed, but it was wrong
“Gaspee WAS the vessel’s name,
Why was it marked WRONG?
We had ourselves to blame.
“Rhode Island has no WESTERN coast!”
Our leader growled with glee;
“You only got it partly true,
And therefore FALSE it be!
And yet a teacher great was he
In many ways observed.
Tough, but fair, his grading was
We got what we deserved.
What I admired was how we knew
Our current grade each day.
In file drawers by the wall we kept
Our tests all filed away.
He showed us how to average
The scores, both bad and good
For tests and quizzes, credit points,
We knew just where we stood.
Although he never showed it much,
He liked us after all.
I found out later that he knew
How each of us played ball
Or cheered or twirled or sang or wrote,
No matter what our skill.
He silently supported us
Like no one ever will.
His funeral was quite a show,
The church packed thoroughly
We learned much more about the man
Who taught us history.
They called him “Louis,” ‘stead of John,
The name we knew him by.
In North Carolina was he born
At 90 did he die.
At Erskine College first he went
In English studied he
A History Masters then he earned
At lofty Emory.
He served well as a soldier,
Intelligence his skill.
I’ll bet he sniffed out all the spies
It must have been a thrill!
Not only did he teach us kids
At Murphy High by day;
He also taught the evening school
At Bass High, so they say.
In fact he taught his entire life
At adult learning schools.
He never tired of sharing lore
And deeper thinking skills.
Four sons and loving wife had he.
Of course we never knew.
His private life he kept away
From all us nosy crew.
An active member of his church
He served quite dutifully.
New congregations he helped build
From mountains to the sea.
Mr. Evans, thank you, sir,
For all you did inspire.
You poured such wisdom in our brains
And made us all reach higher.
We Class of 62 here meet,
As all these years have passed,
Of all you taught you made us feel
We were your favorite class.