Customer Reviews

Toothpick

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I'm sure that you have all read those books about the girl that meets the boy and they all live happily ever after. Well Toothpick is a step above the rest. For a long time Jamie has been called cruel names and has never had the courage to show his true, wonderful personality. When Toothpick, Janice, moves to his home town he is constantly being made fun of. When he finally gets to know Janice he finds the real him. Jamie becomes popular with the ladies and becomes someone who, most importantly that he likes. This book is very touching especially when he finds out the terrible news about Janice and her deadly disease, cystic fibrosis. This is a great book for everyone to read. I think that this is a book that will touch the lives of everyone, everywhere.

I remember Mr. Ethridge better than any teacher I've ever had. He was my 10th grade Ancient History teacher in 1992. He taught at Hazel Park High School in Michigan, where his classes were a mix of the gifted kids that cared too much, the average kids who cared when they had to, and the damaged kids who didn't care at all. I was the perfect example of a wasted dreamer: Creative and clever, but too wrapt up in extracurricular conflict and introverted escapism to give a damn about school. I did only what was needed to accomplish the most with the least amount of effort, and often not even that.

Few teachers were as skilled as Mr. Ethridge at breaking through a wall of mistrust. There was something disarming about his mix of intellect, humour, and dorky optimism. He wasn't afraid to relate to kids on a kid's level, but he was savvy: he knew which kids were older than their years, and he never patronised them. Because of this, I didn't deliberately give him grief. I liked him as a teacher; I admired him as a man. He was dedicated and sincere, and in another place and time, he was a shelter from the storm.

Kenneth Ethridge had a streak of determination and could see the potential in everything and everyone. For example, he used old Three Stooges films as effective teaching tools. He saw possibilities and strove to help his students realise them. I have no idea why he cared so much, and I may never know. Regardless of why, Kenneth Ethridge took the time to teach me; he took the time to teach to a lot of us. His manner and skill were such that very few, if any, left his class without gaining something.

Mr. Ethridge sacrificed a lot to teach me, a half-mad kid of a junkie, that human beings are not required to become products of our environment. Anyone with freewill, a competent mind, and a fair amount of determination can break from the mould and carve a path worth walking. Unfortunately, I never thanked him properly. Instead I dropped out shortly after my mid-term finals. I came back for my end-term final, and made a pointless, though passing, effort. That was the last time I saw him; his disappointment often haunts me.

Recently I went back to my old school, hoping to express my gratitude. Sadly, Mr. Ethridge had passed away the year before. Another missed opportunity. I suspect my true motivation was selfish. What I really wanted was to erase that questioning look of disappointment - the one he gave me when I told him I was dropping out - from my conscience. Perhaps I wanted the opportunity to show myself and to allow him to look upon me as a success instead of another runaway, hiding from life in a marijuana haze. Whatever the case, it was too late.

If there is one human who had even a modicum of influence on the way I think, reason, and feel, it's Mr. Ethridge. He was one of two teachers, now (I assume) both deceased, who made me know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that they cared for me personally. Enough so that they willingly placed themselves in the path of my self-destruction, armed with little more than a glimmer of hope and a fistful of determination.