Rocket Man

Well, media isn't always what we want it to be, and that's okay.  I'll just do this myself.

Here's an article I submitted to our local paper in honor of a local hero.  Enjoy!

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“Mrs. Skipworth, can you help me?”

Up early on a Saturday morning, Gayle Skipworth, veteran fourth-grade teacher at Howe Elementary School, automatically turned to respond to her student. 

Grassy-kneed and red-cheeked, the student studied the rocket she had spent the last several months building, trying to figure out just what was wrong with it.  Clear skies and bright sunlight illuminated the project.  Before her teacher could offer any help, the young lady spoke again.

“Never mind, I figured it out.”

For Mrs. Skipworth and other educators across the nation, these are the words they work hardest to hear.  Memorization and understanding are the basics of learning, but application and problem-solving are the fruits of much labor.

For Ted Mahler, local engineer and accomplished philanthropist, last Saturday marked the twentieth year of the Fourth Grade Rocket Club at Howe Elementary.  Two decades ago, he spearheaded a program designed for students who wished to learn a little extra and have a lot of fun.  Through a six-week extensive after-school course, students develop a deeper appreciation and understanding of technology, as well as hand-build their own rocket.

Though the rocket design has changed over time, Mahler’s love for students and desire to fuel their desire to learn has never wavered.  Somehow, he has balanced this project along with a career at Texas Instruments, the design, implementation, and execution of the Texas BEST program (a state-wide robotics competition for high school students), as well as countless years volunteering with the Boy Scouts and his local church. 

In 2007, Mahler conducted the launch despite failing health.  He was able to put on a good face, and through his best efforts, very few people could tell that he was so sick that he was having trouble standing.  A week later, he was diagnosed with a tumor the size of a key lime in the base of his brain.  He had two surgeries within the next few months to remove the tumor, and nine months later, in the fall of 2008, he was back on the grass to lead another launch. 

Mahler has had a miraculous recovery, and only those who have known him for years can tell that some of his fine motor skills are not quite what they used to be.  Though he may worry that his health changes could affect his ability to lead his students in their annual science explorations, anyone with two eyes and half a heart can see there is no one else for the job. 

About one hundred parents, students, and school administrators gathered this last Saturday in a field beside the high school to watch the annual rocket launch.  Each child was able to blast his or her rocket off several times, each launch with more power and height, and for several hours, the crowd gaped and pointed at the show in the sky.

After proudly watching the last student launch, Mahler turned his attention to his own rocket—a five foot tall marvel—the annual finale.  His innate understanding guided his fingers as he smoothed the contraption’s wires, stuffed its parachute, steadied its base—but, judging by the eager faces surrounding him, watching his every move, Mahler may very well have been casting a magic spell.   

Mahler stepped back, away from the rocket, and eyed it with the type of pride that breeds confidence.  As he walked back to the controls, he smiled at the children around him and, in typical selfless fashion, motioned for them to start a countdown.

“TEN!  NINE!”

Twenty years of volunteerism and love of children.

“EIGHT!  SEVEN!”

Two decades of self-sacrificial teaching, so the love of science could be shared.

“SIX!  FIVE!  FOUR!”

Extra hours of pain-staking labor, after the surgeries, so the kids wouldn’t miss a beat.

“THREE! TWO!”

Students, like the young lady who “figured it out,” who have deepened their own ability to think.

“ONE!”

A surge went through the crowd as the rocket blasted upward, out of a cloud of black smoke.  As Mahler watched it shoot towards miraculous heights, one couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the students, alternating between scanning the sky for signs of the rockets return and searching the face of their favorite scientist—there’s something different about that man, and they know it.  Admiration and awe brightened their young faces, and they couldn’t help but jump and yell for sheet joy of the moment.  To them, Mr. Mahler can do no wrong.  After all, he is a rocket scientist.

xoxo Bec