I would like to pay tribute to my mentor, Tom Powers, who died this week at the relatively young age of 73. He was a mentor to me without realizing it—most likely because he was a natural born teacher. In December of 1969, I was classified 1-A with the selective service and had just taken a draft physical, which I passed with flying colors based on my ability to breathe and walk upright. The draft board told me I would be hearing from them soon. At that time, it usually took three or four months after a physical to get your letter from the Army welcoming you into the fold. So, to do something gainfully for the next few months, I became a substitute teacher for the Chicago Public Schools. The qualifications at the time were not much more stringent than those of the Army. Despite not having been in a grade school classroom since I graduated from 8^th grade or ever taking an education course, I was soon filling in for teachers who were absent for the princely sum of $40 a day. After a few days, I was sent to Sullivan School, only 10 blocks from my house, I took the assignment, telling myself if one more kid says to me, “You can’t tell me what to do. You ain’t my daddy!” I was going to tell the child he or she was correct and then quit. But at Sullivan, I found a well-run school, welcoming faculty, and well-behaved students. After a few days there, the principal asked me if I would like to stay in one room for the rest of the year. It seems that the original teacher had fallen and broken her leg severely and would be on medical leave for the rest of the school year. I told the principal I would love to do it, but that I could be drafted at any day. She said she would worry about that when the day came. She brought me up to the class and introduced me by saying, “This is Mr. McGuire. He will be your teacher for the rest of the year unless Uncle Sam says otherwise.” At lunch that day, I saw a friend of mine--one of those guys who looked 41 when he was 21--who was passing by the school. My new students saw us talking and after lunch asked me if my uncle was going to let me stay. I said, “My uncle? What are talking about?” One boy said, “Your Uncle Sam. What did he say? You were talking to him outside”. (I said well-behaved; I didn’t say geniuses.) Well, “Uncle Sam” let me stay. Because I had a high enough number in the draft lottery, I was never called for duty. I was also in over my head with 48 fifth-grade students. And that is where Tom Powers comes into the picture. He was about to change the course of my life. Tom had been the gym teacher at Sullivan for about 12 years when I arrived. He also coached the basketball team. He came into my room, which was right next to the gym, and asked me if I wanted to help him coach. I said, “Sure,” even though I had never coached basketball before, I figured it couldn’t be that hard. Big mistake. I soon found out that just like teaching, there is more to coaching than it seems. And it was Tom Powers who mentored me in both. Tom ran his gym program in such a way that all the kids loved gym class. He also started the basketball program at Sullivan and soon developed the school into a perennial grade school powerhouse. Basketball was huge at Sullivan in the 60s and 70s. Tom received no extra money for coaching (a fact he left out when he asked me to help). He also used his own car to transport the team to games—which usually numbered about 60-70 per season (It’s nice to have an understanding wife as that is a lot of time and money to spend on other people’s children.) Tom did this for almost 20 years. I was in on the last ten. He eased off when his sons, Tom and Tim, started high school and played football and basketball and his only daughter,

After a week or so of going to various schools and wondering why anyone in their right minds would choose to spend six hours of days with people under the age of 13, I was asked to report to Sullivan School at 83^rd and Coles. This came at an opportune time because I getting rather discouraged being a substitute teacher. Because Sullivan was Kelly, played basketball and softball in high school. He went to all of their games.

Last year, over 450 of Tom’s former players and students at Sullivan attended a dinner feting Tom. To me, there can be no greater tribute to a teacher than that. Most had not seen Tom since they graduated from grammar school. But he had that intangible that defines great people, no matter their profession. He made everyone feel important. He knew when to push someone and when to pull back. He was a true role model. A former student at the dinner told me that he felt blessed to have had Mr. Powers as a coach and as a social studies teacher. He said, “Mr. Powers made you want to do your absolute best.” I knew exactly what he meant.