Remembering a friend, teacher, example


Thomas

Gray

Last week, a man stopped at a dry cleaner's in the southwest part of town to pick up some laundry and was shot by a pair of robbers. A day later, he died. Although I am by now more or less desensitized to the crime that racks Houston, this particular act of random violence hit home.

You see, Robert Keith Berger was more than a popular Reagan High School English teacher. He was a big influence on my life and my education.

For several years, Mr. Berger was part of the theater arts faculty at Houston's High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. His primary function was that of technical specialist. He taught lighting, sound, set design and construction.

He also directed some of the school's productions and taught the extremely interesting senior-level playwriting class.

His range of teaching stretched from the tedious to the abstract and from the technical to the intellectual. Whether it was oil-based paint or existentialist philosophy, Mr. Berger always had some knowledge to offer.

Sometimes, he would become frustrated with his students and let his temper get the better of him. During tech rehearsals he was known to be particularly high-strung. However, he never had anything but the best interests of his students in mind.

If a student caught a splinter while working on a set, he would be there with a Band-Aid and a pair of tweezers. If a student had a personal problem, he would be there with a sympathetic ear and an understanding nod.

Even after I graduated from HSPVA and left the world of William Shakespeare for the world of Frank Lloyd Wright, I found that many of the things Mr. Berger taught me, such as design theory, wood construction techniques and drafting skills, would prove to be extremely useful.

When I prepared my portfolio for graduate admissions earlier this year, I made a point to include some of the work I had done for Mr. Berger's theatrical design courses. I realized it had been a few years since I had seen him and thought about looking him up and having a friendly chat. Regretfully, I never got around to it.

The pathetic excuse for a person who shot Mr. Berger did not just kill my teacher. He left a 3-year-old girl who will never know her father and a woman who will never again lie in bed next to her husband. My heart goes out to Mr. Berger's family; the grief they suffer is incomprehensible.

Mr. Berger's funeral, which was held on campus last Friday, was a standing-room-only affair. Obviously he meant many things to many people. I can only hope to touch as many lives during my lifetime as Mr. Berger did during his.

I will always owe Mr. Berger a great deal of gratitude due to his importance to my education. I regret that I never was able to personally express that gratitude to him. However, I have a feeling that somehow, somewhere, and in some way, he knows.

After all, Robert Berger is not dead. He lives in his daughter, his family, his friends and his students.

And he lives in me.

Gray is an alumnus of

UH and HSPVA.