Mr. Nerd

Friday morning, the temperature outside was 12 degrees. I had to run by Esther's school for Awards Day at 8:30, and then I needed to go work out. When I dressed for the morning, my objectives were to stay warm and go straight from the school to the gym.

Proud Daddy watched as Esther received her award for making all A's last semester. Of course, all the fifth graders received an award for something, but I think Esther's hard work and her A's were special.

Just as the ceremony ended, I headed toward Esther to give her a big hug and tell her how proud I was. She greeted me with, "Daddy, you look like a nerd!"

After being taken aback for just a moment, I thought of my reply: "I've reached a point in my life when I no longer care if I look like a nerd." That's at least partly true.

I walked out toward my cold car and suddenly remembered the great moment in the film In the Heat of the Night when the racist sheriff confronts the African-American detective by asking what they call him up in Philadelphia. Sidney Poitier's pitch perfect reply is, "They call me MISTER TIBBS."

My ego can handle my daughter criticizing my nerdish attire so long as she remembers that it's "Mr. Nerd" to a whole generation of students I've taught as well as my talent and skill allowed.