Letter for Jones 3/2018

Hey bud,

I have 85 students spread out in 4 different subjects.  Any public High School teacher

would drool over having only 85 students.  This is over 6 periods too, so my average class

size is 13.  Most of my students are 9th and 10th graders.  Over half are Korean and most

Korean students are a year older than their North American, Vietnamese, and Russian

peers.  Given all this, most of my students are the same age as you when you left.

It isn’t easy for me to identify the impact that your passing has had on my

professional trajectory, but I know the two have deep roots that are intertwined.  At the

Colorado Outdoor Education Center, we frequently reflected on our past.  Why were we

there?  What drew us to be with kids?  At the beginning of every summer staff training, we

would sit on the hill, watch the sun creep high in the sky over Pikes Peak and share stories

about family, friends, community, and hardships.  In the four wonderful, memorable

summers I spent at camp, not one of those mornings on the hill did I share my story with 
dry eyes.  At least twice I remember referencing my time as a high school risk taker.  
I shared that I saw people miss opportunities, make poor choices, run with the wrong crew,

break the law, and break themselves.  Often we were involved in these behaviors together.

It made sense to use these experiences to justify my time with kids in the mountains,

showing them the real way to get high - hiking, pushing yourself physically and mentally,

making meaningful friendships, and having a shoulder to cry on when the going got tough.

I wanted to do everything in my power to show kids a healthy way to live a wholesome life,

because I didn’t want anyone to experience the long term pain of subtle self harm and the

sharp emotional stabs of losing a loved one to this trap.  We were in it together. I wish we

still were.  I want other kids to avoid wishing they still were too as they grow old.

Most Fridays I play soccer after school with the varsity soccer team.  It feels like a

celebrity shot in beer pong - I’m not the coach, I’m not on the team, I’m absent from practice

Monday-Thursday, but Friday afternoon I get to run and play with a grip of fit Korean boys.  

These times remind me of our epic backyard and pick up games growing up.  In the early

days, you and I and Johnny would play “De--Aw,” which was short for Defense-Offense, in

the narrow field next to the arboretum at Highlands Elementary.  One person would be

Steve Young, one was Jerry Rice, and another was Deion Sanders.  No one else in the NFL

mattered to us.  Niners or bust. Thanks Dads!  We played backyard football until the last

days at Boise High.  We played at everyone's house.  Particularly yours, but also Johnny’s.

We played at schools, parks, and in cul-de-sacs.  It was always heated and pretty evenly

matched.  The glory days of youth sports - no parents, no refs.  Just bros. I have a vivid

memory of you making an epic hail mary catch in the fall leaves on a Sunday evening in the

small field surrounded by the parking lot lined with trees at Highlands.  Just like Jerry. His

signed Jersey hung on your wall forever.  

We used to shoot hoops in your long driveway on Park Hill.  We would lower the rim

enough to dunk, but soon enough we bent the rim so much it wasn’t as fun to play real ball.

We shot hoops and Johnny’s, Reid’s, Pete's, my house.  You and I were never the all-stars,

but we still played.  At one point we were playing at Pete’s, I beat you to the hoop, and you

pushed me into the post and sent me to the hospital for a half dozen stitches on my knee.

That injury contributed to my decision to quit playing competitive soccer and start the

Sunset Boys - 3 seasons of unadulterated fun.  We played frisbee and basketball for warm

ups.  We had loads of fun squashing less fortunate teams.  All in all, we had maximum

teenage fun disgracing the game.  The only thing I regret is not playing quite hard enough to

ever take home the gold.  For you however, I imagine beating Timberline in the final for 3

years straight wasn’t your prerogative for being a sunset boy.  

Playing with these High School boys at St. Paul reminds me of our formative  years of

healthy competition.  You and your folks’ back 40 were instrumental in the development of 
our sporting days.  So much sweat, so many swear words, so much stamina to make us

stronger.  I miss the innocence of pick-up, backyard sports with the boys.  I get to feel a

tinge of this every Friday as I step on the pitch to release from a week in the classroom.  

Talk soon bro,

JB