Letter To The Editor: ‘My Story’

By Roy M. Moore

Los Alamos
At the age of 19, my son died in an unfortunate accident. At that time, I made a silent promise to do all I can to make sure the sons of other fathers don’t have the same fate.
One of the reasons I wanted to substitute teach (Teacher Certificate and check stubs available for viewing at my house) at the high school, was so that I could help the children make it through the sometimes very tough environment associated with high school. All my life, I have been different, and just like Kermit says, “It’s hard to be green.”
So I can quickly spot the children who are different and the ones who are having a hard time making it in this increasingly complicated world. I suspect that I saved the lives of 3 or 4 students, and had a positive affect on many more. I would invite any of my students to post recollections of their experience in my classes, as I taught almost every subject offered at the high school and spent about half of my time in one or more of all the special education classes offered by our excellent school.
I probably had a hand in at least a thousand diaper transfers, but there are unsung heroes at the school who could claim tens of thousands, if ever they sought material gain for their spiritual gifts.
I had to stop teaching after suffering a life-threatening illness that resulted in 11 days in intensive care, the loss of some function and numerous spots on my right lung, and the brain loss I suffered from whatever medications they gave me in the hospital. To this day, I am only about 70 percent recovered and now realize I will never be fully restored.
Our governor thinks that teachers should be judged by some objective testing system that takes no account of spiritual growth and non-countable experience, but I have a different method of determining my success as a teacher.
I count the number of ex-students of mine who visit me at Christmas and other times of the year. If a student remembers me enough to come visit me, then I have had a profound affect upon their young lives and no amount of disapproval from my material-loving human peers will keep me from caring about those less fortunate than me. Some of my ex-students are doing fine while others still struggle with the meaning of life and what they should do with themselves. But they all know I care deeply and will do anything in my power to help them become useful and productive members of our society.
The citizens of Los Alamos can rest assured that I will never harm any of their children and I can state as a fact the only young adults to visit my home are my ex-students and their friends, and this is only after they have finished their high school experience. I have never sold anything to any of them. My gifts are all spiritual, although sometimes they bring me food and toilet paper, because they know I live like the least of God’s creatures. No child of the high school has ever visited my home. And although one mother has come to me and thanked me for saving the life of her son, most others don’t even know of my efforts, and I expect no thanks from any Earth-human.
My only reward is to see one of God’s creatures flourish, and hopefully to one day hear my Heavenly Father say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
Moore later, if it be the will of God and The Post.

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