Discussion:
Anthony Corradino, 1945-2015, Katella High School English Teacher
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Topic Cop
2018-06-24 05:43:43 UTC
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this was posted by Stacey Stallard on Sep 17 2015




There are times in life where the road circles back in on itself and plunks you right back down to a time and place you have already experienced. It feels like time travel but you notice all the differences while at the same time could swear that nothing has changed at all.

One of the things in life that never ceases to amaze (and paradoxically frustrate me) is how we show up in one another's lives. You might be several chapters in my book of life and yet I may only be a footnote in yours.

I just learned that my favorite Katella High School School Teacher passed away this morning. Mr. Corradino my GATE English teacher. He was a big man. Literally and figuratively. We would walk into class every Monday and we knew if we could get him to talk about his weekend and his adventures with his nephew - we would not have any work until at least Tuesday. Leastwise that is what we told ourselves. The truth is, his stories were the best part of the entire week.

I never made good grades in his class. I worked hard to get by on as little as possible and he called me on my bullshit every time. He frustrated me by marking me down for my 'creative' use of punctuation. I screamed into his face:

"Yeah, but look at E. E. Cummings!" To which he replied I could break the rules of punctuation once I had learned them. Sadly, as evidenced here - that is one lesson that did not take.

I must confess to a guilty satisfaction that I made him lose his cool when I challenged him about the symbolism of Emily Dickinson's poetry.

"How do you know that is what she meant? Where you there? Did you ask her?" He stammered and grew red in the face and muttered (bellowed or rather mullowed) something like, "Take my word for it - it just is!" Imagine my surprise when in my college English course - like a flash - I suddenly understood all the symbology. It is a huge piece of who I am today.

If you had asked him if he remembered me out of all of the thousands upon thousands of students he taught - I am sure he would have drawn a blank. Yet he influenced me greatly and I still quote him to this day.

What a beautiful and successful life, to have touched so many in such a profound and lasting way. From one of the children who grew up in the cultural wasteland from under the shadow of the papier-mâché mountain - I thank you. From the tippy top of my mouse ears to my Alice in Wonderland Mary Janes and most importantly from my heart.

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –

#RIPMrCorradino
Lawrence Chen
2021-12-23 03:48:48 UTC
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On Sunday, June 24, 2018 at 1:43:44 PM UTC+8, Topic Cop wrote:

He was my favorite English teacher too. RIP
Post by Topic Cop
this was posted by Stacey Stallard on Sep 17 2015
There are times in life where the road circles back in on itself and plunks you right back down to a time and place you have already experienced. It feels like time travel but you notice all the differences while at the same time could swear that nothing has changed at all.
One of the things in life that never ceases to amaze (and paradoxically frustrate me) is how we show up in one another's lives. You might be several chapters in my book of life and yet I may only be a footnote in yours.
I just learned that my favorite Katella High School School Teacher passed away this morning. Mr. Corradino my GATE English teacher. He was a big man. Literally and figuratively. We would walk into class every Monday and we knew if we could get him to talk about his weekend and his adventures with his nephew - we would not have any work until at least Tuesday. Leastwise that is what we told ourselves. The truth is, his stories were the best part of the entire week.
"Yeah, but look at E. E. Cummings!" To which he replied I could break the rules of punctuation once I had learned them. Sadly, as evidenced here - that is one lesson that did not take.
I must confess to a guilty satisfaction that I made him lose his cool when I challenged him about the symbolism of Emily Dickinson's poetry.
"How do you know that is what she meant? Where you there? Did you ask her?" He stammered and grew red in the face and muttered (bellowed or rather mullowed) something like, "Take my word for it - it just is!" Imagine my surprise when in my college English course - like a flash - I suddenly understood all the symbology. It is a huge piece of who I am today.
If you had asked him if he remembered me out of all of the thousands upon thousands of students he taught - I am sure he would have drawn a blank. Yet he influenced me greatly and I still quote him to this day.
What a beautiful and successful life, to have touched so many in such a profound and lasting way. From one of the children who grew up in the cultural wasteland from under the shadow of the papier-mâché mountain - I thank you. From the tippy top of my mouse ears to my Alice in Wonderland Mary Janes and most importantly from my heart.
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –
Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –
Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –
#RIPMrCorradino
radioacti...@gmail.com
2021-12-23 06:20:51 UTC
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Hooray for this fine teacher Corradino upholding punctuation principles!

But where oh where on earth is Katella High School? All I could figure out from these two tributes is that he taught at an English-speaking school somewhere--resumably stateside, but perhaps in Belgium or New Zealand or Tahiti!

Confused as ever,
BRYAN STYBLE/Florida
Topic Cop
2021-12-24 00:04:17 UTC
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Post by ***@gmail.com
Hooray for this fine teacher Corradino upholding punctuation principles!
But where oh where on earth is Katella High School? All I could figure out from these two tributes is that he taught at an English-speaking school somewhere--resumably stateside, but perhaps in Belgium or New Zealand or Tahiti!
Confused as ever,
BRYAN STYBLE/Florida
Anaheim, California

I went there in 11th grade

He was my creative writing teacher but other than the occasional Usenet post I never did much with it.
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