Small World, Big Impact: Mr. McBride

Can I introduce you to another person from my formative years who made a big impact on my tiny world?

He taught Chemistry. Chemistry was not my friend. The only thing I remember from Chemistry class was that one day I leaned against the lab table and some {still unknown to me} chemical that had apparently dripped on the table ate three holes in the front of my skirt. Right through the fabric. All the way. Unfortunately, since I still don't know what it was, if I ever encounter it again, I'll be bidding a fond farewell to another piece of clothing.

Mr. McBride loved Chemistry, and his greatest desire was for all his students to understand the deep mystery of the science. I have no doubt at all that I was the stupidest student to ever cross his path. He must have explained the concepts to me dozens of times, and still, I never even came close to comprehending them.

I was a good student. An honor student, actually. And while science wasn't my favorite subject, I had managed my way through earth science and biology...and then...my brain just shut down in ways I had never experienced before. Chemistry could not and would not break through.

I dreaded his class, because I viewed it as the bitter end of my honors status. I tried so hard. I really did. I studied. I went in after school for special tutoring. I found the smartest guy in our entire school and asked him to be my lab partner. He even came to my house to help me study after school. And still: nothing.

It was a frustrating and disheartening experience for someone who had always been able to learn...to be enrolled in a class necessary for graduation and face the truth that passing was unlikely at best.

Truth? The fact that I made it through is a mathematical impossibility. {I wasn't any good at math either, but I was decent enough to know that.} If you looked at the {mostly failing} scores of my tests and assignments, you would see what I mean. I should never have passed.

Mr. McBride, though, was a kind man. He saw my effort. He saw my desire to stay afloat. Forget succeeding...I just wanted to survive. He looked at me kindly and ever so patiently explained the formulas to me again. And when my chin quivered and my eyes filled with tears, and I asked him how I would ever pass his class, he just kindly asked me to keep trying.

The only F that ever appeared on my report card came in Chemistry class. Failed the daylights out of the final. There it sat, for my parents to read. And I should have failed the entire class. But in that class, I learned the meaning of grace. I didn't ace the class. I didn't even make the honor roll in that season because of that class. But I cherished that C in Chemistry far more than any A+ in English, because that C was a gift from a teacher who clearly graded me on effort.

Thank you, Mr. McBride, for doing everything you could to help me pass your class. And when you saw that I was one of "those" students and there was truly no hope...thank you for grace. Thank you for caring about a student who was a total failure in the subject of your passion and life's work. Thank you for making it possible for me to graduate from high school...or otherwise, I would still be your 36 year old student in tutoring. We both know it. I will never forget your kindness and your patience, but most of all...your mercy.

I know Mr. McBride has since retired, and I don't know where he is...but I have never forgotten him, and because of his mercy alone, I have one positive memory of Chemistry.