The eyes were a little squinty , the nose a little pointy , the chin most definitely doubled . But none of that mattered because , to me , he glowed – imbued as he was by a vast intelligence and curiosity , humor , kindness , patience , principle , and an evident love of things that should be loved . Baseball , for instance . And history , of course . But most of all … story .
Boy , did Mr . Ryan love a good story , and man-o-man , could he tell one .
I can see him in class , striding the aisles between our desks , reading aloud to us from a book of his choosing – The Hobbit , Robin Hood – but he could expound extemporaneously and with equal flair about Ancient Greece , gods and goddesses . Sophocles . Odysseys . Arthurian legend . Gregorian chants . Thomas More . The Mighty Casey .
I don ’ t recall if any of this was actual curriculum , or if this was just him treating us to the things he most enjoyed . ( He enjoyed saying the name ‘ Uther Pendragon ’.) I do remember , though , that for any assignment of sufficient heft , he would as he was handing back our graded papers , declare the authors of the most distinguished efforts – the ‘ A ’ s , I ’ m guessing – to be members of the ‘ Commendabi League ’ ( pronounced KAHM – en – DAH – bee ), holding up that paper like a torch before setting it down on your desk . To be as consistent a member of the Commendabi League as one was able – maybe a resident even – was clearly the goal .
As inspiring a presence as Mr . Ryan was in the classroom , his most natural setting was the school chapel . On the days he was tapped to speak , there was always a special energy in the room . The sight of him seated up in the front row , consulting an index card , would start a murmur among the boys . That murmur would soon become a buzz and leave the room as word went out . “ It ’ s Mr . Ryan .” The message traveled all throughout the building , and the heavy door would remain open a little longer on such days , for anyone whose calendars were clear , other teachers and administrators who wanted to come and listen .
The excitement was deserved . Mr . Ryan was as gifted a public speaker as I have ever heard – or seen – striding comfortably in front of the lectern . Left hand in pocket , rubbing his chin with the other , leaning back , sweeping with his arm as he spoke . Painted really . Stories from memory . Poems . Anecdotes passed down , with maybe a little O ’ Henry sprinkled over top . All parables , though , and not so many that a few favorites didn ’ t emerge over the Lower School years . “ The family jewels .” Recollections of war . Mr . Ryan had served in Korea . There was one story of
Teaching at Cate School .
a troopship , I think , downed at sea , and of sailors clinging to jetsam in the eerily quiet Pacific as the blanket of night fell all around .
I can still hear the silence in the room , borne of Mr . Ryan ’ s pauses , and sustained by his reflection , accented here and there by the splintering groan of chapel pews . He was a captivating man , and there can be no question that while I sat in those creaky benches , in those suspended breathless moments , a path appeared before me – not one that I ’ d have presumed to recognize at the time , being a bit shy , but that I would eventually take up in my way , in my own language , and for reasons likewise of my own .
Still , not a day goes by that I don ’ t close the office door and follow that path just a little further , writing and rewriting my scenes , trying to distinguish the things that change from the things that don ’ t . And so not a day goes by that I don ’ t on some level think of Mr . Ryan , and hope my effort finds me in the Commendabi League again . I ’ ve yet to come across a higher honor . •
* Mr . William Ryan taught at Saint David ’ s School from 1970-1996 . He passed away in 1997 .
Brooks Hansen ’ 78 is the author of 10 titles to date , including four New York Times Notable Books , one memoir and two books for Young Readers , both of which he illustrated . His 1995 novel The Chess Garden was selected as a PW Best Book of the Year . He was awarded a John Simon Guggenheim Fellowship in 2005 for John the Baptizer , and his most recent title , The Unknown Woman of the Seine , was a New York Times selection for top historical fiction of 2021 . He lives in Carpinteria , California , with his wife , son , daughter , and dog , and teaches English , creative writing , and comparative religion at Cate School .
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