I asked Fred for his birth date. “April 2,” he answered. Every April 2, I read that story to my students as they dined on a birthday cake.
Fred Templeton would have turned 79 today. He died of lung cancer in August 1992. A young 51, he was a fine English teacher at Surrattsville High School, where he was an outstanding soccer and baseball coach, too. Fred also coached youth soccer, basketball, and softball in the Rec League of Alexandria, VA, where he resided.
I casually knew Fred when he was a teacher at St. Stephens/St. Agnes, the school his children attended. I also got to know his wife, Sarah. Later, when their son Michael enrolled in my freshman English class, Fred and I forged a bond.
Courtesy James Alexander, YouTube
Our relationship was cemented around Leslie Norris’ short story, Shaving. It’s the story of 17-year-old Barry, whose father is dying from cancer. Coming home from a rugby match, Barry is told by his mother that his father, who’s lying in the dining room-turned-sick-room, is uncomfortable because of his unshaven face. After drinking a glass of milk, Barry announces to his mother, “I’ll shave him.”
Students who read the story are moved in profound ways. So I always taught Shaving …. until news spread around school about Fred’s cancer. I chose not to include Shaving in the 1991-92 curriculum because Michael would be in my class, and I thought that reading it would be too difficult for him.
That year, the school community watched in awe as Fred, who had taken a leave of absence from Surrattsville, continued to coach his Rec League teams while showing us how to live life at its fullest. But that level of engagement was shortlived. As cancer advanced, news spread that Fred was home. The family dining room had been turned into his sick room.
If any of us wanted to see him, we were told, then we should come quickly. Fred’s lungs were filling with fluid, and death was imminent. My friend and colleague, Roger Bowen, asked me to join him in a visit. It was a hot, late August morning, and I declined, not wanting to see Fred in such a state. Roger went alone.
When Roger returned from his visit, he gave me an envelope. “Fred asked me to give you this,” he said. I took the sealed envelope and went to my office. Upon opening it, I saw a copy of Shaving with a note in Sarah’s hand. “Fred wants you to have a copy of this story; it’s one of his favorites.”
Stunned, I called her immediately, asking for a chance to see Fred, which she managed to arrange that afternoon. Going into their townhouse, I saw Fred lying in the hospital bed, which was placed in a room that had been the dining room. It was just as Norris had written.
I told Fred my story about Shaving, and how I had chosen not to use it this year because Michael would be in my class.
When Michael had begun to give him shots to relieve pain, Fred said, it reminded him of a story he had taught long ago. So he sent his family looking through all his books to find it, which his sister eventually did. It was Shaving. Fred wanted me to have a copy.
As my time with Fred waned, I promised him that I would always teach Shaving. I asked him if he had a particular date on which he would like it taught. “Teach it today, the day I died.” I reminded him that school was not in session in late August, so I asked him his birth date. “April 2,” he answered.
We agreed that I would teach Shaving each April 2. And as I read the story to them, I’d serve students a birthday cake. The first year, his daughter Kate sat in my class. She heard the story and ate cake.
In April 2005, I ran across a reference to Leslie Norris, a Welchman by birth, who was living and teaching in the Midwest. I emailed him my account of his story. He told me that it was a true story. As a young boy, Norris had shaved his father, who was dying from cancer.
Since then, I’ve read the story for both fathers and their sons. It is a promise.
A film adaptation of Shaving, by James Alexander, Brigham Young University (2010, courtesy YouTube)
Mr. Templeton was my 9th grade English teacher (1985-1986) and my JV soccer coach (1987). He left such an impression on me. If I recall correctly, he was a Marine, too. It struck me as such a paradox because he was nothing like my Uncle who was also a Marine. (FYI, I mean that in a very good way). Mr. Templeton made me WANT TO read. That’s a big deal. Trust me. He inspired me to join the school newspaper and I would write articles about the school’s sports teams. I started college majoring in Communications, because I wanted to be a sports writer and it was in no small part, again, due to the lasting impression that Mr. Templeton left on me. I recall it was 1993 or 1994 after I graduated college that I found out Mr. Templeton had passed away. … I lost my father to lung cancer in 2006. I’m going to read “Shaving” now. Still making me anxious to read all these years later. He was a good – GREAT – teacher.