Christopher Jones
Mister Youngblood encouraged my ambition to write when I was in his composition class, and he let me specialize in writing Features sections of the yearbook. I remember him laughing uncontrollably at some of the things that I had written in all seriousness. Embarrassed, I expected to be told to rewrite them. But he would say, "No. Don't change a word." Looking back, I now understand what he was laughing at. It's not often, I think, that someone with very little social skill is allowed to write the definitive record of the events attended by the "cool" kids. I love that he so relished subverting expectations.
I once overheard a friend of mine conversing with Mr. Youngblood. It was a serious talk--my friend had had some family problems. At the end of the conversation the friend said, "Thank you, Edwin." Mister Youngblood, who was always strictly formal except in yearbook class, didn't bat an eyelash at the informality. He had standards, but he gave students what they needed.
David, I remember when you were born, and your parents brought you to visit your dad's classes. They were very proud of you.
I didn't try to write again until decades later, after retiring. I was very much hoping to share some of my publications with Mister Youngblood. Receiving his approval, or perhaps sparking another round of disbelieving laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, would have been my highest achievement. I will have to content myself with remembering his reactions from so long ago, and imagining how he would react now. He remains a touchstone.
R.I.P.
Chris Jones, South Gwinnett Class of 1979