Teacher Tales: Mr. Willard Gerber

To date, all previous editions of Teacher Tales have been written from my perspective as a teacher. In this episode, I write from the perspective of a student, me, about a teacher I had in the seventh grade: Mr. Willard Gerber.

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From the first week that I started the sixth grade at my new elementary school, I was surrounded by students talking in mock horror of the infamous "Mr. Gerber," who taught art at the junior high to all seventh graders. "He's a faggot," some would say. "He takes his boy students into his back room and makes them suck his dick." I didn't really believe this was true, and I can't imagine that many other kids did either, but it was a great source of scandalous amusement for sixth graders the entire year, and I even found myself getting caught up in the hype a bit. Count after count surfaced of older brothers or friends who had experienced the hand of Mr. Gerber.

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I still remember the first day of seventh grade art. Everyone walked into the classroom with great trepidation, stifled grins and sideways glances. Nobody wanted to sit at the front. Mr. Gerber certainly possessed unfortunate characteristics that undoubtedly fed the fire. First of all, his name was Willard Gerber. If he had been named Rob Thomas or Colton Ford or Sean Penn, things wouldn't have been blown quite so much out of proportion. He had a long, severe nose, huge square glasses, a nasal voice and a slight lisp. Most days he wore polyester smocks in olive, mustard, and burgundy tones, and he drove an old Dodge Dart around town all by himself, looking not unlike a sad toad. He seemed to be an outcast among the faculty of the junior high, and I wondered from time to time if he had any friends at all.

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The manner in which kids treated him was appalling. They mocked him to his face, made detestable jokes about him behind his back yet loud enough so he could hear, and even taunted him with slurs that made me squirm. He seemed to just ignore it. He just took it, and taught his lessons.

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Often he needed help in the supply room to prepare for projects. He gave each student an opportunity to help, some accepted, and some declined with sheepish troublemaker grins. I accepted. I worked in the supply room for my allotted week, and of course, Mr. Gerber was nothing but professional in his interactions with me. Nevertheless, I was recipient to the usual teasing that came along with helping in the supply room. "So how did you like sucking Mr. Gerber's dick? I'll bet you liked it," they would sneer.

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Despite it all, Mr. Gerber was an outstanding art teacher. He was precise, methodical, encouraging, and downright talented. Each student produced an array of art projects using a variety of elements, each student was successful. And somehow, in spite of the taunting, he managed to maintain decent classroom discipline.

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Surprisingly enough, I didn't give that much thought to Mr. Gerber and his plight, probably because I was preoccupied with my own. But now, reflecting on the past, I ask myself, did Mr. Gerber go about each and every day with a heavy heart brought on by hatred, lies, and inhumane treatment? Did he love teaching so much that he just put up with the abuse? Did the administration know anything about these things? Did parents? Did anyone do anything to stop it all? Or, perhaps there actually was some kind of truth to all the rumors. Maybe he got away with crimes because in the early 80's not as much was done about inappropriate teacher-child interactions. It could be that I am missing a very critical part of the story.

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From my perspective, Mr. Willard Gerber was a victim of cruelty perpetuated by brutal young teenagers with a mob mentality. Perhaps they got away with it because the other adults at the time were too uncomfortable to address the topic, much less do anything about it.

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When I reached high school, Mr. Gerber took an early retirement, and I never heard anything more about him. But every once in a while, I would see him around town, driving his Dodge Dart in a polyester smock.

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Whatever became of Mr. Gerber?

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