Tales from High School X - Mr. Montecarlo: Enter the Misanthrope

My high school faculty was full of characters. You've already read about Señor Golbez, Mr. Manicotti, and Br. Raygun (at least, you've read about them if you're not a new reader of this blog... check the back entries to catch up!). Tonight I'd like to introduce you to another educator, Mr. John Montecarlo. Mr. Montecarlo was a cantankerous old bastard who was probably not THAT old, all things considered. Mr. Montecarlo seemed outright disdainful towards any and everyone, at least to some degree, although with a few exceptions. This put him in an odd relationship with students. On the one hand, he usually seemed to barely be able to tolerate his students, especially if they said or did something he found stupid or just didn't like (He at one point referred to a student in his class as Joe McCarthy (somewhat deservedly)). However, he also couldn't stand the school administration and some of their bullshit rules and regulations. And he didn't really believe in censoring himself. This meant that Mr. Montecarlo was sometimes an antagonist to me and other students, sometimes an ally, and sometimes just amusingly miserable (he once declared that highways should not post signs of any sort because they are eyesores. Not just billboards. Like, exit signs).

Mr. Montecarlo taught Civics to Freshmen, AP Politics to Seniors, and he was the faculty adviser for the Model Congress club. I knew him from the latter two of those three roles. Mr. Montecarlo, as I said, didn't really particularly care about rules he didn't personally enact. Rather than have us bring some waiver forms home to sign for Model Congress trips, he would save time by having us trade slips with the person sitting next to us and forge their parents' signatures. I actually thought that was kinda fun.

There were, of course, certain rules Mr. Montecarlo did expect us to follow. I remember the meeting we had the week before a Model Congress trip where the club officers announced that Mr. Montecarlo had a few words for us. "Gentlemen," he began, "you are representing St. Francis High next week. The things you do will reflect on the entire delegation, and the entire school. As such, I expect you to handle yourselves in a way that will not embarrass all of us. Now as you know, this trip will put you in contact with students from a lot of other schools. Many of those students will be female. You may find this causes certain thoughts and urges to crop up. I warn you now, and you'd better pay attention..."

"...No fat chicks."

What a class act. Bill Drill broke that rule and was never allowed to live it down, and got a mention by name during the same speech the following year.

Mr. Montecarlo, despite his career teaching at a Catholic prep school and lanky build, liked to appear tough, in touch with the blue collar working man. My friends and I speculated at one point that he would, every morning, drive his hands into buckets of nails and coal to toughen himself up. He would, as noted above, use colorful language in front of students. His image as a caustic dick seemed to be a point of pride to him (not hatin', just sayin'). This sets the stage for an awkward encounter between Mr. Montecarlo and my friend John Gozer, who was himself a fairly masculine and no-nonsense guy (although not a dick, caustic or otherwise).

John was stopping by Mr. Montecarlo's room after a school day had ended to clarify details about an assignment. He had gone to another classroom first, and so mostly all of the students were out of the building or in other rooms (detention, extra help, etc.) by that point. As he walked into the room, he noticed Mr. Montecarlo's radio was on. Then he noticed what song was on. Then he noticed Mr. Montecarlo facing the blackboard, oblivious to John's entry, dancing and singing along in his bass voice to Tina Turner's "What's Love Got To Do With It?" It only took a few seconds for him to realize he wasn't alone, but those few seconds of corpse-like dancing were enough for John to log a classic moment away for future discussion with peers.

Mr. Montecarlo was not a big fan of my friend Dan Hellion. Their political views did not align, and Mr. Montecarlo didn't like that Dan would regularly stand up for himself and disagree with him when he felt strongly about something. The two of them had a relationship that could be described as mutually respectful yet antagonistic... they each knew the other to possess clever intellect and strong views, but they often found themselves at odds. Senior year in AP Politics, Mr. Montecarlo would often reserve his toughest questions for Dan, trying to catch him not paying attention. One day he laid a special trap for Dan.

Every day in AP Politics we would spend the first few minutes reading copies of the Boston Globe to find articles about current events or politics to discuss. One particular morning, Mr. Montecarlo instructed Dan to pay special attention to an article a few pages in. After the few minutes of reading, class discussion began. Mr. Montecarlo asked Dan what he thought of the article he selected. "It was pretty good, raised some interesting points," said Dan. "What did you think of Edwin Meese?" inquired Mr. Montecarlo, with a satisfied look on his face. The trap was set. "Well, I'm not sure. I'd like to see the full context of his comments, but based on-" Dan didn't get to finish. Mr. Montecarlo gleefully, smugly sprung his trap. "You didn't read the article, did you, Hellion? Edwin Meese is DEAD!"

Edwin Meese was not, and as of the time of writing this post, IS not dead. He is alive and well. He was certainly alive and well 9-or-so years ago when this event took place. Dan knew this. "What!? No he's not!" Mr. Montecarlo was taken slightly aback, and was certainly unprepared for other students to chime in. "Yeah, Mr. Montecarlo, he's alive." "Yeah, he's in this article." "Mr. Montecarlo, what are you talking about?" He had to backpedal pretty quickly. "Uhhh... must be thinking of the wrong Edwin Meese. Anyway, moving along."

Next time, we'll go along with Mr. Montecarlo on the Model Congress trips and see what kinds of chicanery occurred there. But until then, may your lives be full and long, just like Edwin "Ed" Meese III!