About Bill Zinn

In browsing the Anniston Star, I have run across quite a few articles by Bill Zinn.  I do not know why anybody in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:PlaceName w:st="on">Calhoun</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">County</st1:PlaceType></st1:place> would read an article by Bill Zinn, but I can tell why I always stop to read it. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>

Mr. Zinn was my history and speech teacher at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:PlaceName w:st="on">Cleburne</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">County</st1:PlaceType> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">High School</st1:PlaceType></st1:place>.  The stories that he writes today are equal in entertainment value to the ones he used to tell years ago in order to educate us.  I know it is going to shock all of you folks in <st1:PlaceName w:st="on">Calhoun</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">County</st1:PlaceType>, but for many years, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:PlaceName w:st="on">Cleburne</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">County</st1:PlaceType> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">High School</st1:PlaceType></st1:place> had the finest collection of teachers anywhere in the state.  Those fine teachers, including Mr. Zinn, are the prime reasons that folks from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:PlaceName w:st="on">Cleburne</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">County</st1:PlaceType></st1:place> are so much smarter and better educated than everybody else (at least in my humble opinion).  It is no coincidence that so many of his former students (like Debbie that he mentioned in an article last year)are now teachers.  Mr. Zinn shared much more with us than his broad knowledge of history, English, and French.  He also took time to humble us in Trivial Pursuit, which was an awakening for teenagers who knew everything.   He risked his career to take a bunch of rowdy kids to <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Williamsburg</st1:place></st1:City>.  I was not one of those rowdy kids because I could not afford to go at the time, but not wanting to see “any child left behind,” Mr. Zinn offered to loan me the money for the trip.  I declined his offer for fear of not being able to repay him, but it was not until I was an adult paying my own bills that I fully appreciated this act of kindness. Mr. Zinn also, as none of us will ever forget, took time to demonstrate to us his lung capacity.  After returning from lunch one day, Hope Harlan and Jaynath Hayes borrowed the lung capacity test from one of our other teachers.  They explained to Mr. Zinn that the machine measured his fitness and lung capacity by allowing him to blow into a straw at the base of the machine in order to turn a small wheel at the top of the machine.  Each unsuccessful attempt to turn the wheel would require the straw to be moved up one level.  I will never forget Hope explaining to Mr. Zinn, “Now, close your eyes and give it all you’ve got.”  And I will definitely never forget his response, “I can give it all I’ve got with my eyes open.”  And he did.  And flour flew out of the bogus lung capacity machine into Mr. Zinn’s eyes and all over his face and clothes.  He looked like a ghost from a bad B movie and he was mad.  He threw off his jacket and stormed out of the class, leaving us a bit bewildered.  To be sure that we received no satisfaction from this prank, another teacher came into our classroom to tell us how worthless we were for doing this to Mr. Zinn.  Without using as many words, we got the same message from our principal, Mr. Robert Morton, who simply opened the classroom door and said, “You people are really funny.”  I was scared to death at that point and don’t remember another word Mr. Morton said.  We were on egg shells with Mr. Zinn for a couple of days, but things eventually got back to normal.  We knew for sure that he did not hold that joke against us when, two days later, we asked him if he had our tests graded.  He responded, “I didn’t get your tests graded because I was up all night rolling the dough out of my eyes.”<o:p></o:p>

That is one of my two most memorable moments involving Bill Zinn.  The other came at our senior year awards day ceremony.  In a move that surprised nobody but him, our class dedicated our annual to Mr. Zinn.  When he moved to the podium to acknowledge the dedication, I noticed that his eyes were once again red and puffy and I was sure that Hope had gotten him with that lung capacity machine again.  That was not the case, but instead Mr. Zinn was sincerely and deeply appreciative of our gesture of affection.  His remarks were short, but have stuck with me ever since.  He told our class that we did not know it then, but we were a special group of people who would individually and as a group, do great things.  I believed those words and it changed my whole life.  Though I was an underachiever all through high school, at that very moment, I began to expect more of myself.  I do not know if his words made as lasting of an impression on my classmates, but I do know that at the time they were delivered, they made all of our eyes red and puffy (I guess that was fair after what we did to him).  <o:p></o:p>

That is why I always stop to read the articles by Bill Zinn.  It should go without saying that I think you should, too.<o:p></o:p>

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