Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, June 20, 1993                   TAG: 9306180005
SECTION: CURRENT                    PAGE: NRV-2   EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY  
SOURCE: DONNA ALVIS-BANKS
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Long

THE MAN WHO HELPED A LITTLE BOY GROW

This was a year full of good-byes for my 10-year-old fourth-grader.

With a quivering lip, he said good-bye last year to the Tooth Fairy and to Santa Claus.

With real tears, he also said good-bye to a friend who died.

Wednesday, he said good-bye to Mr. Walter.

All of us remember the teachers who made a difference in our lives. I remember Mrs. Sarver, the third-grade teacher who gave me a love of words, and Mrs. Haymaker, the seventh-grade teacher who taught me to believe in my ability.

And there was my high school teacher, Mrs. Simpson. She taught me the value of dreams.

I have a feeling Darin will remember his fourth-grade teacher at Christiansburg Elementary, Christopher Walter.

I must admit I was apprehensive at the start of the school year when I discovered my son's teacher was a man. I really started biting my nails when I found out he was a new teacher. And when I heard that he had recently retired after 22 years in the Coast Guard, I was sweating bullets.

I expected to find a brassy bully with a flat top (you know, the Sgt. Carter type) barking orders to a classroom full of cowering children: "Move it! Move it! Move it!"

Instead, the first time I met Mr. Walter I found myself looking up at a tall, soft-spoken man wearing a dark suit, a freshly starched white shirt and a striped tie.

"I'm looking forward to working with your son this year," he said. "My main concern is that the students do lots of reading and writing."

With a class of 18 boisterous boys and eight giggly girls, I wondered why Mr. Walter's main concern wasn't personal survival.

Apparently, it didn't take this teacher long to develop a few coping skills. Late in September, I received a phone call at work.

"Mrs. Alvis-Banks, this is Christopher Walter, your son's teacher," said the deep, even voice on the other end of the line.

"Darin had some trouble with self-control in his music class today. It seems he was unable to refrain from making physical contact with his classmates. Would you have a word with him about that, please?"

I did, indeed, have a word with Darin.

Darin said good-bye to a few privileges that night.

I came to expect a phone call from Mr. Walter every six weeks or so. He kept me informed each time there was a problem.

I missed his last call because I was in a meeting. A colleague took the message:

"Darin's teacher, Mr. Walter, called. Darin was throwing those little ketchup packets in the school cafeteria during lunch. Mr. Walter would like you to have a word with him."

I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud.

Each week during the school year Darin came home with new "Mr. Walter stories."

Darin was thrilled when Mr. Walter brought his Labrador retriever, Alex, to school for a visit.

On "Wacky Wednesday" when the children are allowed to wear most anything they want to wear, even mismatched shoes and socks, to school, Mr. Walter showed up in his customary suit, shirt and tie - and uncustomary fuzzy penguin slippers.

Just before the winter holiday break, Mr. Walter brought in gifts for all his kids - 26 wooden tops he had made by hand.

"Wow, Mom!" Darin exclaimed. "Tops were flying everywhere!"

"APRIL FOOL!" the children squealed in chorus when Mr. Walter sat down in the chair they had covered with Scotch tape.

When the kids returned from their bathroom break later that day, they found a message scrawled on the chalkboard: "EARLY RELEASE!"

Their squeals of delight were cut short: "April Fool," Mr. Walter said quietly.

Mr. Walter's teaching method was decribed by a colleague as "controlled chaos."

He made learning fun.

And it made a difference in Darin, who always had to struggle with academics. This year, he was having fun and learning, too.

Mr. Walter's interest in Darin showed in some special ways.

Darin came home wearing a cap with the insignia U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln a few months ago.

"Mr. Walter gave it to me," Darin explained. "It's my thinking cap."

"I can't wear it in class, though," he added.

Darin became a better reader, a better writer and a better thinker this year. I am grateful to Mr. Walter for that.

But I'm also grateful for the things Mr. Walter taught by example - grace, generosity, self-respect.

I found out a few days ago that Mr. Walter holds master's degrees in business administration, public administration and education.

Curious, I asked him why he decided to become a fourth-grade teacher after his military career.

"I could make more money in another profession," he said, "but this was the No. 1 thing I could do that I felt would be a valuable contribution."

A mother's sixth sense tells me Mr. Walter chose the right path.

Donna Alvis-Banks is an editorial assistant in the New River Valley bureau of the Roanoke Times & World-News.