I remember asking every one of my math teachers, “When are we ever going to use this in real life?” They would glare, clear their throat, and continue with their lesson. They gave me no reason why I should be learning what we were, but the worst reason I heard was “you’ll use this stuff when you get into a different class.”

At Arrowhead Union High School, I heard the same responses with the occasional application to the “real world.”

On my first day of AP statistics during my junior year, I plodded into the classroom, assuming nothing would be different. And then my eyes were met--and simultaneously opened--by Dave Olenchek, a zealous drill sergeant, minus the uniform.

He started with a card trick. He pulled cards from a deck he claimed he shuffled before we entered the room. Each time he pulled a card, he asked if we still believed that he had shuffled the deck. After pulling ten sequential red cards, the entire class doubted him. Two words echoed from his mouth like a lightning bolt in a library: “Prove it!”

The trick showed us we can never be certain whether or not something is true; however, we can gather evidence about how unlikely events are.

I look back on that day and wonder what kind of person I would be without Dave Olenchek. He showed our class the world through the eyes of statistics. There was a pattern in just about everything and Mr. O showed us how to find it.

He is a man of mnemonics and puns, forcing us to remember the three characteristics of data sets through the Wizard of Oz (shape, center spread, oh my!). You wouldn’t think you’d hear singing in a college level math class, but anything was possible is Mr. O’s class--however, I don’t think you’d want to hear the voices of 27 statisticians bellowing verses about how variances add and standard deviations don’t…ever.

For the rest of the school year, Mr. O had us question everything and eliminated our predispositions or biases while telling us to think of the words of Socrates--“All I know is that I know nothing.”

While teaching us to be skeptics, he opened our eyes to trends and behaviors. He was a modern day Gandhi, glasses bent square while missing the dhoti; and in each class he taught us a new lesson.

At Arrowhead, Mr. Olenchek is an unsung hero. Like Clark Kent, he is a superhero in disguise. Few people know he is the Mathematics Department Chair because he’s not some stiff in a suit who barks orders. He is a professional, but that is not how most of us looked at him; to most, he is our friend.

Mr. Olenchek brought insight and stories from his own life to class--sometimes for educational purposes, other times, for a good laugh. He was the guy to go to when you’re having problems with anything. Whether it was in Stats--he always keeping his door open for students (including the five day marathon of help sessions he held before the AP test)--or in a student's personal life, Mr. O was there to lend a helping hand.
I am a senior now and though AP stats is behind me, I still converse with my old AP stats teacher on a daily basis. Just yesterday, I dropped off my senior profile and asked him if he could write a letter of recommendation for me. And what I had planned to be a five minute conversation ended up being a forty-five minute talk about calculus, roller skiing, and his family (I’m sure his kids hear a lot of dad jokes/puns).

As my high school days dwindle, Mr. Olenchek will be a memory I won’t forget. He is a teacher, a father, and a friend. But most importantly, he is the educator who had made the biggest impact on my life, statistically significant if you may (a<.05) . So even though I may not have been able to prove he lied on the first day, I am nominating Dave Olenchek as educator of the year.