Dear Mr. Malter,

Somehow I ended up searching Joel Malter tonight on Google while thinking back to my junior high school days at Webster. First, I offer you my condolences, since my search shocked me with the news of Joel Malter's death. Forgive me for this intrusion, but I feel compelled to write. Joel Malter was my history/English teacher in the late 60s when I was in junior high at Webster. I have never forgotten him. I have told countless people about how we had spelling bees and the winner would get an ancient coin. If said winner could successfully research the coin and identify who/what was on it, he/she kept the coin. I told my friends about "yawn reports." We were not allowed to be bored. If we yawned, we had to do a special report. My friends and I were enthralled by your father. We were so captivated that we used names like Caligula and Odoacer in the stupid notes we passed to one another. These were our code names for boys! (and I turned out gay, so you can imagine how funny I think all of this is now.) I shall NEVER forget when Mr. Malter demonstrated the process of mummification in class. You father was one of the best teachers I ever had, including my university teachers at UC  Berkeley. He was part of the golden age of public education in California, of which I was a beneficiary. He seemed ageless to me, though I realize now, upon reading about him online, that he was only 8 years younger than my mother. This means that you and I are contemporaries. Please take this as a heartfelt message from a stranger. Your father was a huge influence on me, a great beacon of intelligence and wonder. He was ALIVE. He energized us students. I came from a very unhappy family of abuse. Going to his class was a refuge. So, this is a message out into the ether to you. Its intention is to convey to you that people whom you do not know, your peers who were Mr. Malter's students, were educated, enlivened and altered by your father. I can only tell you that I remember him. Strongly.

Dena Schoen
Seattle, WA