My high school band director died unexpectedly last November.
I was shocked and deeply saddened by the news. Second only to my parents, Charles P. Temple was the most significant adult role model in my life. Like other people whose lives have been shaped and guided by a teacher, I had immense respect for his devotion to teaching and an enduring appreciation for the personal attention he directed toward me. I loved him like a father. I hope he realized that.
I met Mr. Temple when I was in seventh grade. I was holding a trombone at the time. I really didn’t understand how to play it. I was marginally interested in being a member of the band, but I had more exciting plans that included a prominent position on the school basketball and football teams. I had no plans at all for life after high school. Charles Temple changed all that and, as a result, redirected the course of my life.
After I graduated from high school Mr. Temple and I spent time together at Ohio State. I was a student majoring in music education; he was completing his Ph.D. and serving as the assistant director with the Ohio State Marching Band. When I earned my first teaching position as a band director, my students came to know Mr. Temple as a visiting expert from Ohio State. I knew him as a mentor, advisor, and friend.
When his graduate work at Ohio State was finished, Dr. Temple was appointed the supervisor of fine arts in a large city school system. A few years after he began his work there, he invited me to interview for the band director’s position at one of the district’s two high schools. He became my immediate supervisor, and continued his accustomed place as my teacher. I have many fond memories of my own experiences as a band director, but none are dearer to me than memories of the times when I made him proud of me.
Dr. Temple was unusually successful as a teacher and music supervisor. His band at Jackson Memorial High School was consistently rated among the top high school bands in Ohio.
He brought new ideas and fresh approaches to the Ohio State Marching Band. As supervisor of fine arts, he energized and strengthened the arts program of the Hamilton City Schools. Unfortunately, he was also his own harshest critic. He was a man of high ideals and big dreams. He often fell short of meeting his own high standards and expectations. I suspect that unrealized dreams partially blinded him to the good he did. When he retired, he looked back on his career with more than a few regrets.
In my view, the life of Charles Temple had no room for regrets. No teacher does everything perfectly, but most teachers make a difference to someone. I am reminded of an essay attributed to Forest Witcraft published more than 50 years ago. It is a teacher’s manifesto:
One hundred years from now
It will not matter
What kind of car I drove,
What kind of house I lived in,
How much I had in my bank
Nor what my clothes looked like.
One hundred years from now
It will not matter
What kind of school I attended,
What kind of typewriter I used,
How large or small my church,
But the world may be
a little better because
I was important in the life of a child.
Charles Temple was important in the lives of many children.
I was one of them.
