Mr. Ginapp is gone, DBC, but his impact is here to stay

Clark Ginapp taught his student actors to act and react always. But off stage, when someone dies unexpectedly, how are we supposed to react? For many of Mr. Ginapp’s friends, family members and students, the reaction came, appropriately, in the form of written word.

On Nov. 9, Holyoke High School English teacher Mr. Ginapp died of complications of lung cancer and pneumonia. That same day, his Facebook page was flooded with memories, stories and eulogies. It was abundantly clear that Mr. Ginapp was respected and well-liked (and not in a Willy Loman sort of way).

Such an online outpouring was fitting because, in recent years, Mr. Ginapp became a rare bright spot in the often ugly world of Facebook. He was known for sharing words of the day and a seemingly infinite supply of puns, not to mention tagging his friends in anything that made him think of them.

While his presence is already missed online and in the community of Holyoke as a whole, his absence is perhaps most striking at HHS.

Mr. Ginapp was an English teacher at HHS from 1978-2009. During that time he directed 60 school plays and musicals, plus several community productions with the Phillips County Players. After retiring from his teaching role, Mr. Ginapp was the director of Holyoke Alternative School for two years.

When he left, Mr. Ginapp left a hole in the school district that was hard to fill. As luck would have it, he returned a few years later, stepping in to help fill that hole himself, first as a substitute and then as an English teacher and the play/musical director in 2019.

Many people thought they’d seen Mr. Ginapp’s last drama production when HHS staged “The Music Man” in 2008. As it turned out, last year’s “Damn Yankees” ended up being his final musical, as COVID-19 foiled his efforts to put on “Clue” and “Elf” this year.

“Clark was an integral part of our school for 30-plus years,” Holyoke JR/SR High Principal Angela Powell said. Many staff, herself included, had him as a teacher, and he was one of the reasons they pursued teaching themselves. His impact is “hard to replicate and hard to replace,” Powell added.

It was especially good to see him back at the school the past two years, getting a chance to work with students in yet another generation. One such student, freshman Isaiah Rueter, was in Mr. Ginapp’s English I class this year. “Mr. Ginapp made a huge impact on all of our lives,” Rueter said. “He taught me so much, from the basics of diagramming to working and acting on the stage.”

As Rueter pointed out, “His love for his students and his love for teaching were substantial.” That’s something that anyone who knew him could clearly see.

In the weeks since his death, Mr. Ginapp has been lauded by many for his knowledge of and passion for the English language. He introduced countless individuals to books and authors they grew to love. He taught generations of Holyoke students to think critically and craft arguments without logical fallacies. Thanks to him, many will never watch “The Simpsons” in the same way again.

Lessons learned in the theater department were just as important. Former students recognize him for his role in overcoming fear, conquering stage fright and discovering self-confidence that began in rehearsals and subsequently flowed into all areas of their lives.

Some of the most lasting lessons, however, had nothing to do with English or theater. Meagan (Fuehrer) Schubert is a 2000 graduate of HHS who now lives in Fullerton, California. Though she hasn’t been in Mr. Ginapp’s class for over 20 years, they remained close friends, and she never passed up an opportunity to visit him when she was in Holyoke.

“While he taught us so much academically, he taught us far more than that. He taught life lessons,” Schubert said. She could talk to Mr. Ginapp about anything, and she did. They often chatted about everything from politics and religion to TV shows and movies.

Above all, students across Mr. Ginapp’s many different classes seem to agree that he made them feel heard.

High school is a challenging time for so many people. Everything feels so big. It’s often the time when people experience their first major victories and disappointments and loss — all without the luxury of a fully developed prefrontal cortex.

Some people flounder when it comes to interacting with teenagers, but Mr. Ginapp always seemed to do so with ease — probably because he treated them like people. He didn’t shy away from tough topics, be it in literature or in life lessons.

Mr. Ginapp once described himself as having been a “total nurf ball” in high school, yet look at how he turned out. Perhaps that’s why he so easily related to the students that didn’t necessarily “click” with other teachers or adults in their lives. Mr. Ginapp seemed to recognize the potential in the people who didn’t even see it in themselves.

And he didn’t accept mediocrity. Mr. Ginapp was known for pushing people beyond their comfort zones, both in the classroom and on stage. He had high expectations, and people seemed to overwhelmingly rise to the challenge. While there may not be any numbers available to support that claim, on the matter of statistics, I’ll defer to Mark Twain.

Though Mr. Ginapp spent decades living in Holyoke, he had an uncanny ability to connect small-town kids to the rest of the world. As Philip Krogmeier, a 2006 HHS graduate who now lives in Colorado Springs, said, “Clark taught me that there was a bigger world beyond the city limits of Holyoke, and more importantly, he taught me that this was not something to be feared, but to be embraced.”

Reminding folks of the world outside these city limits is a mission that Mr. Ginapp apparently carried over into the Facebook realm as well. Online he was constantly reminding people that other points of view do, in fact, exist.

To say that Mr. Ginapp changed the world through his teaching is not hyperbole. Granted, he would probably argue otherwise, but think about it like this: His hundreds of former students are all across the globe, working at all sorts of jobs, using the skills learned in his classroom and passing on the life lessons he taught.

Ultimately, I suppose it’s possible to imagine a world without Mr. Ginapp, but to be quite honest, I would prefer not to.