Remembering Don Johnston

It is no tribute to my character that 20 years after I graduated from East Newton High School, I could describe the principal's office in exact detail. The passage of another 27 years has dimmed that recollection somewhat, but the lessons I learned in that room, though it took some of them years to sink in, are indelibly etched in my memory.

It was in that room in the early fall of 1970 that I was introduced to Don Johnston and in a freshman year that had my parents frequently asking about requirements for the witness protection program, I was reintroduced to Mr. Johnston numerous times.

On one occasion, it was the underground newspaper I published detailing what I imagined was deep corruption in the East Newton R-6 School District (even then I had problems with superintendents), another time it was the questionable (actually offensive) lyrics I substituted for some Johnny Cash and Marty Robbins songs while sitting in the back of the bus.

Each time I was summoned, I waited for several long minutes that seemed to stretch into hours before I was called into the office to face my executioner.

It wasn't just his title as principal- Don Johnston was an imposing man, standing well over six feet tall and he had a deep, commanding voice that struck fear into those of us who occasionally crossed over to the dark side.

After I sat down, he usually just glared at me, his face reddening and I expected him to begin shouting at me and perhaps administer the beating that I so richly deserved.

What he did was even worse.

He took me through each detail of the crime and by the time he was finished I was invariably surprised that he knew more about what I had done than I did.

On more than one occasion, he concluded the session by letting me know that I was under an in-school suspension. Essentially, I had to continue attending all of my classes and stay out of trouble. For the next several days, I went to each class believing that all of my teachers were keeping an eye on me waiting for me to make that one move that would get me expelled.

I settled down after my freshman year and my next walk on the wild side took place when I was a junior. By this time, I was serving as vice president of the Student Council and without telling the sponsor, art teacher Gary Broadaway, Student Council President Teddy Johnson and I launched an illegal bingo game.

We called the game Corny, so that no one would think we were playing bingo and each day we posted the Corny numbers on the Student Council bulletin board. Someone had to sell the Corny cards, all of which were traditional bingo cards, and I had what I thought was a great idea.

I had a study hall during fourth hour, so I told my teacher I was going to be working on a project in another teacher's classroom for several days. Instead of reporting to my class, I sold Corny cards during all three lunch shifts for six weeks.

Corny was a huge success until Ronnie Brown won the game two straight times and the rumors circulated that the game was fixed. It didn't help that after several weeks of successfully skipping classes to sell Corny cards (and make a few hundred dollars for Student Council), someone caught on to what I was doing and I was called into Mr. Johnston's office.

I acknowledged skipping class, while carefully avoiding telling him why I was doing it. For once, I had information that the principal did not have.

Mr. Johnston gave me an in-school suspension.

Not long after that, with sales down, and no one to make any more sales, the game ended.

It took me longer than it should have to realize the impact Don Johnston had on my life and on the lives of those who attended or taught at East Newton High School. I did not fully realize it until I started teaching at Diamond Middle School and realized just how much a principal has to do to maintain effective discipline and provide an atmosphere that gives each student a chance to succeed.

I finally understood that I had never been given a legitimate in-school suspension. Mr. Johnston knew that the fear of further punishment was enough to deter me from any of my shenanigans, at least for a while, and he wanted to keep me in the classroom.

I realized that he took the time to know his students and knew exactly what he needed to do to keep nearly all of them headed on the right path.

Several months ago, I was talking with another of Mr. Johnston's former students, Mark Knight, who said he had recently had the pleasure of talking with him and said my name had come up in the conversation. 

Mark told me a couple of things that I immediately thought of when I heard the news this week that Mr. Johnston had died at age 87. 

He said Mr. Johnston had said he bet that I was a good teacher. That meant a lot to me, as I am sure that it did when he complimented other EN graduates who entered the teaching field, some of them at East Newton High School.

Mark also said I should stop by and see Mr. Johnston and that he loved to hear from his former students.

I fully intended to do that and tell him in person how much the lessons he taught me had enriched my life. I hope he knew. I hope it was just another one of those situations where he seemed to intuitively know things he had no way of knowing.

As I thought about that, I remembered another bit of information I had never volunteered to Mr. Johnston.

Years after I left the halls of East Newton for the final time, I heard a story about a conversation between Mr. Johnston and former EN Student Council President Teddy Johnson.

"Whatever happened to that bingo game you were running?" Mr. Johnston asked. "You were doing pretty well with that."

It was hard to slip anything past Mr. Johnston.