That was the start of a relationship that would last for sixty three years. The reason? John Pickering took serious interest in each and every one of his students. Now, not all would respond, but the offer of developmental support and the kind of special teacher-student friendship that comes rarely during your school years was always there. I latched on to that opportunity in spades. You see, Mr. Pickering also taught Art. One day he discovered me doodling in my work-book and instead of a reprimand because I wasn’t paying attention (actually I was, I just doodle incessantly while my mind listens to the speaker, play, whatever), he commented favourably on the design and invited me to come in early the next day to the art room. “We’ll discuss your art career, Harry.”
For the next two years I came in early to the art room to work on projects that John suggested or that I dreamt up myself. He was what I called a ‘positive critic.’ He was able to steer your efforts into their best expression without making you feel you had made a mess of things, which I often did. I recall vividly the last day of my term at Kent Senior. I had told John that I was not going into the Matriculation program at the next door high school, Bloor Collegiate. I could tell he was disappointed but he did not say so. When I indicated my goal (actually, my dad’s) was an auto mechanic trade through Central Tech, he nodded and said he hoped I would still keep up with my art. “You have real talent, Harry. Please keep in touch; let me know how you’re doing.”
I did just that. The next Christmas I sent John a greeting card and included a note about the school and a small sketch I had done of Central Tech’s front entrance. A few days later he responded with a card of his own, signed in the most elegant penmanship I have ever seen. He had jotted a note of thanks for mine and a few words of encouragement. One year later I switched to the matriculation option at Central Tech and his card expressed his congratulations on a wise choice.
Over the years the cards continued without a break. We marked many milestones, the passing of his wife was a particularly difficult exchange, but most were happy, especially his rise in the education world through Vice-Principal to full Principal. I told of my marriage and of the children. Sometimes we exchanged longer messages, or a drawing. He praised the book I wrote and published, I sent him a book of art reproductions on his retirement. Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without his card.
The last card I received came in mid-January of 2015. It was to be his last. In June of that year I received a phone call from his son David telling of John’s passing at the age of 92 years. The Obituary spoke well of the man I had known in my youth and described an older man and his way of living and dealing with the world and his fellow travellers that fit the man I admired, no, revered, for so many decades. I grieve the loss of a man who had been a teacher and mentor. More than that, I mourn a man who will always be carried in my heart as a true friend. But I thank a gracious God for his place in my life.
John Horace Pickering, Rest in Peace.
