Two days ago, Bruce Pearce, a high school teacher I had in grade 10 or so was killed in a motorcycle crash in Alberta. He'd been the Campbell principal for the past few years but mostly I remember him for being very young and telling us many inappropriate stories that we could relate to, remember, and learn from. One of them was a lengthy tale of going to Vancouver with his buddies in an old car, being broke and eating lots and lots of sample food from grocery stores (legal) and loosing control of the car on a hill when the brakes failed so having to stop it by driving over cement parking meridians (that must have hurt). He explained how to file off registration numbers off the car so that you wouldn't be fined for abandoning it (borderline illegal) and then how to wire home for money from you parents so you can finally be in a bed again (the whole point of the story). I really liked him and wish I'd have connected with him again when he returned to Campbell (I only enter the building of my old high school about once per decade).
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