Remembering Mr. Clark, my English teacher who never settled for 'good enough'
Jack Clark was one of several mentors who shaped me by expecting my best — and not accepting anything less.
We all have teachers and coaches who have left a lasting impact on us — the ones who taught us, pushed us and believed in us.
Here are my top four:
Mr. Bateman, my baseball coach from ages 9 to 13. He taught me the fundamentals of the game — and more importantly, the value of discipline, teamwork and humility.
Mr. Clark, my high school English teacher at Traverse City Senior High. He challenged me to think critically and write clearly.
Professor Mendenhall, in the business college at Western Michigan University. He brought real-world insights into the classroom and expected us to rise to the occasion when he would interrupt our presentations to question our premises.
Bob Johnston, a Bible Study Fellowship teaching leader I served under for many years. He modeled steadfast, unwavering commitment to Christ and to the men and children we were leading in the study of scripture.
The common thread among them? They had high expectations — and they held you to them.
Looking back, I’m most grateful for the mentors who demanded my best. They didn’t settle for “good enough.” They expected hard work, growth and excellence — and they helped me believe I could get there.
Jack Clark
Mr. Clark — Jack Clark — and his wife, Anne, died last month in a one-car accident near their home in Akaroa, New Zealand. He was 91; she was 79.
I watched their 90-minute funeral online. As you would expect, they were greatly loved by their families — but they also were never forgotten by their students.
Three years ago I learned that Jack had moved to New Zealand at some point in his life. I posted that information on my high school class Facebook page, and it wasn’t long before more than 30 classmates had commented about their “favorite teacher.”
Here are a few of the comments:"
“I loved him as a teacher. I remember him reading Beowulf and playing ‘Jeopardy’ as a prep for tests.”
“Eric and I have been wondering where he was. Whenever ‘best teacher’ ever comes up, he is our top choice. So lucky to have had him as a teacher.”
“He was my favorite English teacher! He was so brilliant! Always wanted us to expand our vocabulary. So kind.”
I hope Mr. Clark will know how many of our lives he touched from our class. A great man.”
“What I remember above everything else was that he genuinely cared for his students’ welfare.”
For our graduating class of 1979, the feeling was apparently mutual. He even wrote a letter to the editor of the local newspaper, calling our class “the finest I have ever seen academically. It had more brighter minds than I have ever seen in any other graduating class.”
And it seemed he truly meant it.
It says something that I have saved that newspaper clipping for 45 years.
Three years ago I also planned on sending him an email just to say how much I appreciated him as a teacher. I never did. Another regret; another lessons learned. Act now!
Jack Clark’s life
Almost all of this information is based on what I heard during his New Zealand funeral service, which was attended by more than 300 people.
He was born into poverty during the Great Depression, sometimes living in a tent as a child. His father delivered coal before the family moved to Detroit, where many family members took jobs in the auto factories.
Jack wanted a better life for himself, so he joined the Navy, and then later attended Eastern Michigan University on the GI Bill, earning bachelor’s and master’s degrees in English.
“He was the only person from his family to attend college and escape life on the assembly line, which in turn helped all his sons go on to experience lives that were greatly enriched,” his youngest of three sons, Kelly, said at the funeral.
After teaching in the Detroit area for several years, Jack moved his family to Traverse City, an idyllic town of about 20,000 on Lake Michigan in the northern part of the state.
Jack wasn’t just a gifted teacher, he also was a skilled athlete, earning a black belt in judo while coaching baseball, softball and wrestling.
Outside the classroom, he picked up chimney sweeping as a side job. That humble trade sparked something bigger: his oldest son, Kevin, later used those same tools to launch a company that grew to more than 100 locations, expanding into wildlife removal and pest control.
Jack’s other sons, Shaun and Kelly, followed his path into the classroom, as both became English teachers.
Moving to New Zealand
I was surprised to learn that Jack had spent the last 40 years of his life in New Zealand.
What began in the early 1980s as a short-term teaching stint turned into something far more lasting. He met Anne, a fellow English teacher, and in 1985, he returned to New Zealand for good to marry her.
A decade later, they settled in the coastal village of Akaroa, on a peninsula that stretches into the Pacific. There, they opened Mulberry House, a bed and breakfast that became their home for the next 30 years.
It was fitting that at their funeral, the words of Shakespeare, William Blake, and other literary greats were read aloud.
As one of Jack’s final requests, he wanted each of his sons read a poem at his funeral. I assume these were among his favorites — windows into the soul of the man.
Kevin read Emily Dickinson’s poem “Some keep the Sabbath going to Church,” in which she contrasts traditional churchgoing with her personal, nature-based form of worship.
Shaun read Kipling’s poem “If—,” which is an expression of stoicism, integrity and self-discipline.
Kelly read Alastair Reid’s poem “Curiosity,” which uses the metaphor of cats and dogs to contrast inquisitive people with those who prefer safety and routine. Reid argues that curiosity, while potentially dangerous, is essential for a life worth living.
From what I remember, Jack was certainly self-disciplined and a man of integrity. And he apparently was curious and adventurous; after all, he not only moved a young family to what he hoped was a better life in Traverse City, he later moved 8,500 miles to spend the second half of his life with the woman he loved.
“We’re all the authors of our own story,” Kelly said. “Jack was a magnificent writer and authored a magnificent life.”
How fortunate to have had this “contact” in your life and be able to share how and why this gift was so meaningful. The “energy and care levels” had to require a commitment that took
a depth of love. How fortunate for you…….it worked. 😊