4 | MAY 26 • 2022 

for openers

Our Last Class with Mr. Leuchtenberg
A

nticipating a high 
school reunion 
can evoke varied 
reactions. Most folks look 
forward to seeing old friends. 
Some dread the return of 
high school angst. For some, 
it’s the push 
to really start 
following that 
diet. Everyone 
who attends 
tries to look 
their best. And, 
of course, some 
skip the whole 
darn thing. 
Every 10 years since my 
graduation, I’ve gone to my 
Mumford High School (class 
of 1966) reunions. In 2016, 
before any of us had heard of 
COVID, I decided to attend 
our 50th to catch up with 
some old friends. 
My childhood friend Eddie 
(now Ed) emailed me in the 
summer of 2016 to say that 
he had managed to contact 
our favorite teacher from 
Post Junior High, Mr. Dennis 
Leuchtenberg. It turns out 
that Mr. L. was only in his 
late 20s when he taught us 
English and journalism. That 
meant that Mr. L. was now 
in his mid-80s. Ed suggested 
we set up a meeting for lunch 
with Mr. L. and our junior 
high classmates who were 
coming to the Mumford 
reunion that fall. That 
sounded like a good idea. Mr. 
L readily agreed to meet with 
us for lunch. 
We weren’t sure how 
many folks would show 
up for lunch with Mr. L. 
at Ginopolis. I got there 

early and found my old pal 
Steve waiting in a private 
room with a big table. We 
reassured each other how 
great we both looked (wink, 
wink). Steve had towered 
over me and our friends in 
his teens, but his 5’9’’ stature 
looked different at 13 than 
at 68! We hugged and caught 
up with each other as we 
waited for other classmates 
to trickle in. As folks arrived, 
we mostly recognized each 
other’s younger selves hidden 
by 50 years of living. And, 
of course, we all lit up when 
Mr. Leuchtenberg walked 
in, looking every bit his age 
(though not that much older 
than we all must have looked 
to him).
About 12 of us took seats 
around the table. Ed agreed 
to emcee the event and 
suggested we all order lunch 
and then go around the 
table telling each other what 
we were up to and sharing 
any memories we had of 
Post Junior High and our 
teacher, who looked pleased 
but perhaps slightly shell-
shocked.

Post Junior High, in 
northwest Detroit, included 
kids from various elementary 
schools in the area. Classes 
were set up at that time 
based on test scores. We were 
often told that our group, 
which stayed together from 
seventh through ninth grades 
was composed of the kids 
with the highest scores. In 
addition to teaching English, 
many of us also worked 
with Mr. L. intensively on 
our school paper, the Post 
Script, and our yearbook. His 
teaching style was serious, 
caring and supportive, 
encouraging us to work hard 
and follow the rules (which 
most of us were prone to 
do). He especially focused 
on helping us to learn to 
become better writers. His 
youthfulness and enthusiasm 
were wonderful assets for our 
cohort. We tried to please 
him and felt that he expected 
us to do our best.
Most of us felt proud of 
our intellect, but we were also 
aware that we were perceived 
by others as fairly nerdy. We 
all felt socially awkward (I 

know I did!) during puberty, 
an awkward time of life. 
We clung to our smartness 
as a buffer against feeling 
uncertain about ourselves in 
so many other ways.

THANKING ‘MR. L.’
Twelve people having lunch 
around a table in a room 
with their former teacher 
… it sounds so ordinary. 
But, ask anyone who was 
there, something wonderful 
happened that afternoon. 
All of these professionals, 
including teachers, 
professors, doctors, lawyers 
and writers, now nearing the 
end of their careers, were 
able to tell their teacher how 
much he had meant to us in 
our formative years. 
Each of us thanked Mr. L. 
for the special way he had 
taught us to better express 
ourselves in our writing. The 
teachers and professors in 
the group were particularly 
elegant, letting their teacher 
know how much they had 
borrowed from him and 
continued to use in educating 
their own students. 
We laughed about Mr. L.’s 
strong encouragement for 
the use of the semi-colon. 
Many gave specific examples 
of how often they used what 
they had learned from him in 
their daily work. And we also 
talked about how his caring 
and concern for us at this 
important time in our lives 
had helped us to believe in 
ourselves. 
I sang a song I had written 
for the occasion to the tune 
of “Yesterday” (which I 

Mr. Leuchtenberg

PURELY COMMENTARY

Jeff London

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