Dear Mr Ravita

Dear Mr. Ravita,

I opened my email this morning to find a note from my parents mentioning your retirement.  I immediately set out to send you something, and thanks to the Internet that wasn’t hard to do, but I’ve found that it isn’t enough.  You deserve more than a gift basket.

When I met you my senior year at Bristol Central I had just come off some bad times.  The prior year, I’d suffered a large disappointment.  I’d been approached by the heads of the English and Social Studies departments, both of whom I had classes with, and told that I’d been selected to attend the summer program for the Humanities at Choate Rosemary Hall, a prestigious private school.  My good friend Andrej had already been selected for Mathematics, so he I would be there together.  My family had been planning a trip to visit relatives in Europe that summer, so I remember asking Rita Gerzanick if she was sure that I was going, and she replied unequivocally, “Yes, you’re going.”  

The following week I began to wonder.  I heard from classmates of a selection process and of other candidates, like Jennifer Dickau, the daughter of Gale Dickau, who was also a faculty member in the English department.  I was concerned that Mrs. Gerzanick hadn’t mentioned any selection process to me, but I assumed that it was some kind of formality since she had been so certain the week before.  Also, the head of the Social Studies department had selected me (I think his name was Ted Lowendowski) and I was taking an elective advanced History class with him at the time, while Jen Dickau wasn’t taking any History class at all.  

The week after, the morning announcements congratulated Jen on being selected.  My parents, who were just about to cancel our summer vacation, were furious, and they called Rita Gerzanick at her home.  After being given the phone I asked her if nepotism played any part in the decision.  “Yes, of course it did,” she said.  She said that I should meet her in her office so that she could explain, but I never did.  I avoided Mrs. Gerzanick for some time afterwards and I never discussed the matter again.

My junior year I also had honors English with Ann Norton, and I’m guessing that you’ve heard her reputation.  I’m sure some of her dislike for me was my fault, as I was opinionated and sometimes outspoken, but I don’t believe I deserved the open contempt she heaped on me that year.  I probably should have dropped her class, but I couldn’t bring myself to so.  English was my favorite and best subject, and I felt that if I dropped her class that she would have beaten me.

Then, my senior year, I met you.  You encouraged me to try out for Madrigals, and I became one of your tenors.  Later that year we were the first group to sing for Andy Williams.  You also prompted me to take the musical aptitude test, and join the gifted-and-talented program, both of which boosted my self-esteem.  

And maybe most of all, you spoke to me as a friend.  There was an incident during one of our voice lessons where my bitterness bubbled out at another student.  I was really mean, and I didn’t even realize it.  Later, you took me aside and talked to me about it and my attitude in general, and for the first time I realized that I was spilling my anger at Rita Gerzanick and Ann Norton on others.  I committed to myself that I wouldn’t do that again.  Thanks to your concern, I turned a corner.

I wish you a wonderful retirement.  You’ve earned it.

Be well,



Chris Dellario