Remembering Glen Pritzker
Malik Power '17
A Final Journal Entry
I will succumb to my own mortality and recognize the unfortunate reality that I cannot express in words that which I cannot even understand in thought. Baseball cap, washed-out jeans, thick glasses, bushy moustache, portable stereo, vibrant hands, booming voice, and a furious passion for education, music, mock trial, tennis, and life. These phrases are small snippets that jump out when one hears “Mr. Pritzker.” And though these symbols ring in the hearts of those who knew him, they do not account for everything else Mr. Pritzker embodied. They can’t even begin to touch the surface of the emphatic conversations he held in his classrooms, or the subtle nods to the slow music he played in class, or the seemingly eccentric vocal dynamics in his speech, or the questions he always had on hand designed to twist one’s perspective, or the endless amounts of information he possessed, or the love he held for every human being, or his ability to find the positive in every single situation. How many times did he say simply that a decision was bad? How many times did he say simply that he disliked something or someone? Never. It was always riddled with discussion—an intense attempt to see both sides. He taught this to me, to his students, and anyone who was lucky enough to converse with this amazing human being.
I write this selfishly, and I recognize that. I wish Mr. Pritzker could read this and add comments in his unique and sometimes illegible handwriting. I write instead to console myself. I write to remember him. I write in a futile attempt to honor him. I write this final journal entry for Mr. Pritzker in an attempt to understand who he was and how he changed me. And although I know it will take much more than a journal entry to do this, for me this is the start. When trying to recall memories with him I quickly realize that every class was a unique experience. His memory will not be one instance or one story. The positivity of his spirit and the personality he carried will never be forgotten. Thank you Mr. Pritzker for your wisdom and your kindness, for the laughs you brought and the tears you wrenched, for the countless stories you told and the countless stories you made. You will be deeply missed. GO TORREYS!!!!...
I will succumb to my own mortality and recognize the unfortunate reality that I cannot express in words that which I cannot even understand in thought. Baseball cap, washed-out jeans, thick glasses, bushy moustache, portable stereo, vibrant hands, booming voice, and a furious passion for education, music, mock trial, tennis, and life. These phrases are small snippets that jump out when one hears “Mr. Pritzker.” And though these symbols ring in the hearts of those who knew him, they do not account for everything else Mr. Pritzker embodied. They can’t even begin to touch the surface of the emphatic conversations he held in his classrooms, or the subtle nods to the slow music he played in class, or the seemingly eccentric vocal dynamics in his speech, or the questions he always had on hand designed to twist one’s perspective, or the endless amounts of information he possessed, or the love he held for every human being, or his ability to find the positive in every single situation. How many times did he say simply that a decision was bad? How many times did he say simply that he disliked something or someone? Never. It was always riddled with discussion—an intense attempt to see both sides. He taught this to me, to his students, and anyone who was lucky enough to converse with this amazing human being.
I write this selfishly, and I recognize that. I wish Mr. Pritzker could read this and add comments in his unique and sometimes illegible handwriting. I write instead to console myself. I write to remember him. I write in a futile attempt to honor him. I write this final journal entry for Mr. Pritzker in an attempt to understand who he was and how he changed me. And although I know it will take much more than a journal entry to do this, for me this is the start. When trying to recall memories with him I quickly realize that every class was a unique experience. His memory will not be one instance or one story. The positivity of his spirit and the personality he carried will never be forgotten. Thank you Mr. Pritzker for your wisdom and your kindness, for the laughs you brought and the tears you wrenched, for the countless stories you told and the countless stories you made. You will be deeply missed. GO TORREYS!!!!...
