My favorite teacher died last week. William Yachymiak was 73, and when I read his obituary, I never realized that when I was a 17-year-old junior in his creative writing class, he was just 36. Prematurely balding, Mr. Yach wore his straight brown hair in almost a Prince Valiant style with a part on the side and a long comb over, his tie slung over his right shoulder. But he was timeless to me, ageless in that it was what he represented that made me respect him as though he were 60 years old. It was 1983. I … (read more)
