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Posted by: Art (art_anderson@detrick.army.mil) on 3/23/1998@16:49hrs:
I just returned from browsing some of the Nostrivia discussions about Great teachers on Staten Island. I want to add Mr. Kacsur to this list. He was the Shop teacher at PS30. I don't think I had any classmates that didn't like him. He was a strict, everthing-in-its-place kind of guy, but his humanism was great. While we cut, carved and sanded our tables and jewelry boxes, he would keep talking about values and citizenship and good behavior. If you did well in the class, he would let you learn some special skills like how to work with copper and silver. We made ashtrays and jewelry and learned that only the limitations of your imagination could prevent you from fabrication anything you wanted. During lunch breaks he would eat his sandwich while moulding lead miniballs and rifle shells for the civil war inactments that he enjoyed participating in. He also would plan trips for students to find out about caves and other geological formations. The amount of teaching he did seemed limited only by your level of interest. I think he did these things out of a sense of duty to the next generation and a real affection for the interchange between students and teachers. I don't believe he got paid for any of the extracurricular activities he made possible for us. From his age and demeanor, I believe he had been a highly prized artizan in Europe before he immigrated to the US around WWII. I wonder if any of his family still live on staten island.
I also knew his daughter Katie as a result of visiting his house to learn how to polish stones. We even started a small but short-lived business together (as kids). We called it "international mouse" we bred mice for coat-color. The ones that we considered extra were sold to the S.I. Zoo and the ones with unique appearance we kept for pets. Our stationary was decorated with the foot and tail prints of "doolittle the mouse." I do hope this little story sparks a memory that we can beam up to Mr. Kacsur. I'm not sure he's gone, but he was older than I am now when I took his classes (1954-58). Art Anderson