I was googling, and decided to look for one of my junior-high English teachers.
From one of several links I found:
http://www.recordonline.com/news/sigler/sigler_main.htm
Yikes.
At first, I hoped it was a different Robert Sigler. But the above link contained a picture, and it’s definitely the same guy I had for English in 1973-1974.
(Note: I am outspokenly pro gay rights. I do not associate homosexuality with pedophilia, and I would be just as pissed off if this 50something superintendent had used his influence to molest a 14-year-old girl. Also, I grimaced at the account of the beating he received in prison – I believe the guy belongs behind bars, but I don’t believe in anarchy).
Reflections:
He wasn’t a bad teacher. I especially remember how fair he was with grading – I was a brat, and I talked a lot in class, which he noted on my report cards. But he never let it influence my grades. I specifically remember once when he wrote, “F. consistently talks out of turn in class. F. achieved the class’s highest average, 97%”. This was unusual for that place and time – teachers were allowed more leeway in grading then, and it was assumed that if a teacher didn’t like you, your grade would reflect it.
He did, however, have a streak of the petty authority figure about him. (More, apparently, than just a streak, to work his way up to superintendent).
He was from the east coast, and to us West Virginia bumpkins, his mannerisms seemed effete. Consequently, some of the students teased him about having crushes on the boys, in the generic way that adolescents razz each other. This was just a few of the nerviest kids, and no one took them seriously.
There was an another, more unusual teasing campaign that almost everyone took part in: He had a sputtering mannerism that involved flapping his lips. One of the kids dubbed him ‘zebra lips’, and it became a long-term goal for everyone to slip the most oblique references to zebras under his radar. (E.g.: The kid who started the campaign once wore a referee’s shirt to class, explaining he had a game right after school). This bratty exercise in humor and authority-defying really galled Mr. Sigler, to the point that he was still throwing people out of class for it two years later, when my younger brother was in his class. (When I showed this story to my brother, he suggested we send him a stuffed zebra in prison).
Curiously, there was a kid in my 9th-grade English class later became a teacher, and got in trouble for molesting teenage boys. I wonder semi-seriously if Mr. Sigler had any ‘contact’ with him?
Weird, ugly, bad scene.