Left - watercolor tests. Right - Teachers from Memory project with continued: Mr. Kerr, my 7th grade math teacher and football coach at the University School of Milwaukee in 1984. He yelled and screamed and stank of cigarettes. I was a brat, a shitty student and terrible at math and he was mean - not a good place to be when you're 12. He was known for kicking the desk REALLY HARD of students not paying attention. Rumor had it that he was a P.O.W. in the Vietnam war and his captors filed down his bottom teeth. I was terrified of him. We used to chuckle imagining him out in the real world (not in school) and asking a drug store cashier in his military screamy-voice for a box of his unfiltered cigarettes. I went out for football (I lasted exactly one week) and a friend of mine literally broke his arm during practice but Mr. Kerr told him to suck it up and finish the scrimmage. The kid came to school a couple days later with a huge cast.