In 2008, I recommended my high school Applied Journalism and English teacher, Thomas J. O’Shaughnessy, to become Teacher of the Year. When he won, he and about 20 other students congratulated him with a New York Times toaster. I am dissatisfied with the ending of this letter but I had length constraints when I wrote it. Perhaps one day I will write a new piece that better captures what a wonderful man Mr. O’Shaughnessy is.
UPDATE: Mr. O’Shaughnessy, unfortunately, passed away after a two-year battle with cancer on July 28, 2011. I wrote a news obituary for him on NJ.com and wrote about him in this blog post. I will dearly miss him. He was a great man, teacher and father figure. One of the first things I did after I heard he was gone was buy rum raisin ice cream in his honor; it was his favorite.
Tom O'Shaughnessy in his McNair Academic classroom in 2008.
I have known Mr. Thomas O’Shaughnessy for about four years. He taught me English 1 Honors freshman year, and now, Applied Journalism. In the former, we felt our way through Great Expectations, The Pigman, Romeo and Juliet, etc., until we found what SparkNotes fail to shed light on: tender moments with Biddy and Joe under the night sky, mischievous apple rolls, and exactly why Friar Lawrence has a whole speech about flowers. In Journalism, the beacon shines light on the great moments of real life in text. Normally I consider myself twice-blessed, or even thrice, for having had these two great classes and one marvelous teacher.
While passing his classroom one day, however, I realized that maybe there are more blessings in this man than one could receive in only four years. A bombastic cry of, “Beware the ides of March!” caught my attention. Inside were several students captivated by Mr. O’Shaughnessy’s lively reading. No longer was Julius Caesar built with ancient words in syntax strange to the ears of men—in this way, Cassius’s duplicity, Brutus’s patriotism, and Antony’s woe connected. I only wish he introduced me to Julius.
But I recovered quickly from my moment of ingratitude and jealousy, realizing that unlike many, I have had the good fortune to work as an editor for several school publications overseen by Mr. O. While flipping through the pages of the Cougar News, our school newspaper looking for blurry visuals, bland headlines, grammatical errors, etc., Mr. O not only showed me the craft and politics of secondary school journalism but also helped me rediscover my love for a possible career I stopped pursuing long ago. He encourages me as he does everyone, even calling me “the next Amanpour.”
Mr. O enlisted me to help him publish the literary magazine. Always looking to take things a step further, Mr. O suggested going beyond short stories and poems, including the sheet music and lyrics to a student’s original song. In similar genius, he encouraged a photo essay for our newsletter showing “A Day in McNair” and “Making Waves,” a newspaper feature about standout students doing amazing things.
Because of his grammatical knowledge, good journalistic taste, and editing abilities, I trust him most with the latest drafts of my stories, plays, etc., and know that his feedback will be honest, helpful, and on point. After twelve years of formal education in ten different schools, I have met many English teachers, but so far, Mr. O’Shaughnessy is unrivaled in his great ability to communicate, authority and accuracy in both his statements and opinions, and passion. It’s not hard for him to be my favorite.
And I’m not the only one who respects and adores this man.
The one mystery he won’t help me solve is his birth date. I asked, he refused to tell. Determined to someday have the satisfaction of greeting him, I resolved to greet him with a “Happy Birthday!” every day until I finally got it right. I eventually gave up (although apparently one day I did unknowingly get it right).
As I stood outside his room a bit more to hear his Roman tragedy, one of my classmates walked by and asked, “What are you doing?”
I smiled and replied, “Being pleasantly educated.”
