Well, since you want to get to know me up close and personal, let’s get started. I grew up in Montgomery, Alabama, earned my B.A. at Harding in Arkansas, and then my masters at Ole Miss, and then came to teach at Greater Atlanta Christian. That covers the first 24 years. I’ve spent the past 27 teaching here in a windowless cave, which makes me ninety years old—I mean, fifty-one. All of which has been to prepare me for the next fifty, which should be a real trip.
I suppose I could throw in a few details, so you can get to know “the real me”.
My parents are country folk who happen to live in the city. When I was growing up, my mother canned fruits and vegetables all summer. This meant that my brother, sisters, and I spent all summer snapping beans, shucking corn, and shelling peas until our fingernails were purple. Most of our relatives lived in the country, and I always felt that that was really home. We spent a lot of time in the woods and fields, playing and hunting, and of course, picking those peas and beans. The only bread we ate was the cornbread and biscuits my mom made. I used to envy people who had store-bought bread, until I moved away from home. The saying is true, “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” I still believe that those country dishes are the best food in the world.
I loved to play baseball as a kid. I played every position on the field at one time or another. My most memorable game was a Little League game in which I pitched. Our only pitcher had quit the team, so I was moved to the mound. I had never pitched before, and my motion was completely sidearm, which blew the minds of those other kids. Or maybe it was the fact that I plunked a bunch of them in the ribs. Hey, control isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, no matter what Greg Maddox says. In a six inning game, I struck out about seventeen and hit at least a dozen, including their bat boy. He was in the batter’s box at the time, so he was fair game. Next week, I was back at first base. I may be the only pitcher in the history of baseball to retire with a perfect 1-0 record. Complete game, no less. Eat your heart out, Cy Young.
When I wasn’t playing ball or shelling peas, I was mowing lawns. Actually, in Alabama you don’t call it “mowing lawns”. It’s just “cuttin’ grass”. I probably cut more grass than 
Cyrus McCormick ever dreamed about. I could have used one of those reapers of his. Money that I saved from this is what paid for my first two years of college.
Cutting grass back home. I’m on the right.
I bought my first car in 1974. I found it in a barn at my Uncle Willie’s place in Coopers, 
Alabama, which is a wide place in the road near Clanton. It was a thriving country town until they built I-65 about ten miles away, and then all the traffic just rushed on by. Baby blue ‘53 Buick, with a straight-eight and three on the column. It was a real head-turner. I paid $425 for it, drove it for four years, and sold it for $450. No extra charge for the coat hanger which was holding up the exhaust pipe. My wife insisted that we had to have a car with air conditioning, so I sold it and bought another car for $250. It lasted four years also, until it caught fire on I-285 and died in a cloud of smoke. “It didn’t owe no service,” as they say in Alabama.
I got married while at Harding. My brother had married a girl from Arkansas, and after driving up there for the wedding, my mom told me to marry a girl closer to home. So I met up with Linda, who was the daughter of missionaries living in Vienna, Austria. My mom nearly had a cow. She got over it, though. With parents living in Europe, Linda had to do her own wedding preparations. She made her own dress, designed the invitations, baked her own cake, planned the music, and did the decorations. I showed up on time, which is the main responsibility of the groom. We got married in the recording studio on the Harding campus, because we (i.e., Linda) wanted to have some friends sing and play guitar, and no Church of Christ in the area would allow instrumental music in their buildings. I think that’s in John 24, or somewhere. That’s OK though, because the acoustics were really good.
We enjoyed the year we spent in Oxford, Mississippi. I benefited tremendously from the history courses there, and we made some lifelong friends. That’s a nice town. William Faulkner lived in Oxford, you know. I tried reading one of his books, once. I don’t recommend it. But it’s a really nice town.
I met an old man at church in Oxford. His name was Homer Samuels, and he was about 90 years old. A retired school teacher, he had some fascinating stories to tell. His first teaching job was at a one-room school in Betty, Alabama in 1908. There was a ford across a stream next to a post office. That was it. I’m not joking-- it really was Betty Ford. His method of gaining the respect and obedience of the young male students was to beat them up, one at a time. Somehow, I don’t think that would go over too well, today.
I came to Norcross to interview with Jackie Bradford, Jesse Long, and David Fincher in the spring of 1980. After a session with David, we went out into the hallway and he introduced me to Dwight Love, the head of the math department. “This is Mike Glenn,” David said, “He’s just been hired to teach U.S. History.” Dwight smirked and asked, “And coach what?” I thought, “He’s a pretty smart guy.”
I had been assigned to be the JV soccer coach. They didn’t play soccer in Alabama when I was growing up. I went back to the library at Ole Miss and checked out a book to see how many played on each side, and what the positions were called. Let’s just say that my learning curve was pretty steep that fall. In the spring I was JV baseball coach, and the next fall, girls’ softball coach. Then, the next spring, tennis coach. As you can see, they were trying hard to find something I could coach. It didn’t work. Finally, I started the high school chess team, and though I’m a mediocre chess player, I can fake it pretty well. By the way, we need warm-- I mean, chess players for the team this year. If you can play, or just fake it, like me, let’s talk.
It would take too long to tell the stories of the past 27 years here at GACS. Thousands of students and dozens of faculty and staff colleagues have come and gone. There aren’t too many left who were here when I came. I’ve learned something from all of them, and hopefully benefited a few, in turn. I have now taught several children of former students, and several of my current teaching colleagues are also former students. I think that means I’m getting old. I may have thinning and graying hair, and have to use reading glasses, but I still scare the bejabbers out of most of the students. I have a sign on my classroom wall which says, “Power corrupts, but absolute power is kinda cool.” Amen to that.
In the original version of this bio, I failed to mention my favorite student, so I’ve added this paragraph to make amends. Heidi joined my wife and me in December, 1988, just in time to count as a tax deduction for that year. I was about to give a final exam that morning when Brenda Brown came to my classroom door and said the hospital had called, and if I wanted to be there for the Big Event, I’d better leave right now. Linda had been there for several days already, and the doctors had decided it was time. Six weeks early, but you know how I hate procrastination. I’ve taught Heidi each of the past two years, and she still admits that I’m her dad, so I must be doing something right. Heidi is a freshman at Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas this fall. We counted almost two dozen family members from both sides who attended Harding in the past, so it’s kind of a tradition. She’s our only child, so we’ve been plunged all at once into the “empty nest syndrome”. If you see Linda or me sniffling, just look the other way.
I don’t know which has changed more over the years-- Gwinnett County, or the GAC campus. If there is one word that captures the essence of both, it has to be “opportunity”. Just look at the influx of immigrants to this area. They’re here because this county offers tremendous opportunities to those willing to work hard. As for our school, what better example of opportunity is there? You can become whatever you want. The only obstacles to your success are in your own mind. Tear them out and stomp them suckers flat, to paraphrase Lewis Grizzard. Why be your own worst enemy? You always need a friend, and since a dog is not always a good option, be your own friend. Help yourself be successful. There’s a lot of power in positive thinking.
One last thing-- wherever you go, connect with a church. My family has made it through some hard times thanks to many dear Christian brothers and sisters. I don’t know how anybody gets along in life without that support. We read in Colossians 1:18 that Christ is the head of the church, which is His body. In a real sense, therefore, connecting with the church is connecting with the Lord. Don’t try to make it on your own-- it doesn’t work that way. And it isn’t just what you GET from the church-- it’s also what you GIVE. Reciprocity is a very good word. Look it up, remember it, and practice it.
OK, enough preaching. Now, let me share with you “The World According to Glenn”.
Here are a few random opinions. Take ‘em for what they are worth. If you disagree, feel free to tell someone else.
Best President in U.S. History: probably George Washington. He did what needed to be done, when it needed to be done, and then quit. Who else can say the same? Can you think of any other president you’d prefer to have been our first president? I didn’t think so.
Worst President: Tough call here… but the soggy dog biscuit goes to Richard Nixon. He did the country a world of hurt with his Watergate monkey-business, and his detente policy is vastly overrated. He had no clue as to how to deal with the economy, and as for character. . . are you kidding? Somebody should make a movie about him with Jack Nicholson playing the lead role. Second place goes to Jimmy Carter. He made a mess of almost everything, claims he was right, and despite losing reelection, he still won’t go away. I’m not saying that he did nothing commendable, but overall his record is a loser. A sore loser, at that. Furthermore, I don’t agree with the conventional wisdom that he is our “best ex-president”. It’s kind of amazing that we made it through the decade of the seventies with two bozos like that in the White House.
Most Over-Rated President: JFK. He is regarded by the public today as one of the best ever. I agree with my dad’s assessment of Kennedy: “If he had lived, he probably would have become a good president.” I’m not saying he was a bad president, but to put him in the top five, or even in the top ten, is overrating his record.
Smartest Politician in History: Germany’s “Iron Chancellor”, Otto von Bismarck. He may not have been as smart as he thought he was, but that still leaves a lot of room. He put a bunch of squabbling minor states together to form the most powerful country in Europe, and then basically ran the continent for three decades in the late 19th century. He saw the dangers facing Germany and made sure to avoid them during his life. If he had lived for another fifty years, there wouldn’t have been any world wars.
Best Idea in Government Today: The Fair Tax. Despite the fact that it is promoted by Neal Boortz, it is still a great idea. Visit the website and read about it. It’s such a logical and potentially beneficial concept that our Congress will never adopt it. Speaking of Congress—I’m neither Republican nor Democrat. I voted for Ross Perot twice, and I’d vote for him again if they’d prop him up next to a couple of nice charts.
Most Significant Historical Event: The resurrection of Jesus, hands down. No other event can be said to have changed history so profoundly. Without the resurrection of Jesus, the past two thousand years would have been radically different-- and not in a good way. In I Corinthians 15, the apostle Paul points to this event as the pivotal fact of Christianity. Christians are too quick to concede that this event cannot be objectively substantiated, and relegate it to the domain of faith. The case for the historicity of the resurrection is very strong, and no Christian needs to be afraid to assert its truth.
Greatest Artist in History: Michelangelo. If you don’t think so, try painting proportionally correct 14’ figures on an arched ceiling seventy feet above the floor while
lying on your back on a scaffold mixing wet plaster and the pope is yelling up at you, “Are you done yet?”. After that, pick up a chisel and make the world’s most famous sculpture out of an 18 foot long block of marble. And then, in your spare time, design a cupola for the world’s largest Christian church (St. Peter’s).
Second place goes to Bernini, and third place to whoever that ancient Greek guy was that sculpted Laocoon.
Three Worst Traitors in History: Judas Iscariot, Benedict Arnold, and Tom Glavine. At least Judas and Benedict expressed remorse later.
Most Over-Rated Rock Song: “Layla”, by Clapton. If there are any Boomers around, start resuscitation right away. The song starts out pretty well, gets a little tiresome, and then, when he tries to get mellow, it turns into the most melodramatic, eternally boring drivel you’ve ever heard. The only thing worse is the music I was subjected to for twenty minutes while on hold for Continental Airlines recently. I was tempted to sue for pain and suffering.
Most Over-Rated Rocker: Bruce Springsteen. Can’t sing. Can’t write. I’d rather call Continental Airlines.
Most Entertaining Shows on TV: Those PBS fund-raisers when they have those oldie rock groups. It cracks me up to watch those bald, paunchy Boomers trying to get down. And then there’s the audience. Hoo, boy.
The Inversi-Q Factor: That’s my name for the interesting fact that the amount of money won by game show contestants varies in inverse proportion to the level of intelligence required to win. Think about it. Some brainiac demonstrates detailed knowledge in many fields on Jeopardy, and takes home ten thousand dollars. Somebody else spins a wheel, yells the alphabet until they recognize a word or two, and pockets twenty thousand. Another guy with a smart friend and a life-line wins fifty thousand. And then a total goober who doesn’t even understand the meaning of “probability” picks through a bunch of shiny little suitcases and walks off with a hundred grand. If they ever come up with a game that requires absolutely nothing, they’ll win zillions. Oh wait—they already have. It’s called the lottery.
My Favorite Novel: Can’t decide between Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The First Circle, or Mark Twain’s Pudd’nhead Wilson, but if I had to say, I’d go with Pudd’nhead Wilson. For a shorter read, pick up Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago and read the chapter entitled “From Island to Island”. Fantastic stuff.
Scariest Book I’ve Ever Read: A student once asked me if I’d used LSD back in the sixties. “No,” I replied, “But I read the Book of Revelation.” You know—the last book in the Bible. That is one scary book. If they ever make a movie of it, I’m not going.
My Pet Peeves: Litter, especially on our campus. Don’t do it, and if you see it, pick it up. Also, loud cell phone conversations in public places. How indiscreet can you get? Come on, people.
Historical Event I’d Most Like To Have Witnessed: I don’t have a “favorite” event, but, not counting some Biblical miracles, I’d really like to have been a fly on the wall when Hitler was informed of the D-Day Invasion. Of course, I’d have needed a translator fly with me, but it would have been interesting to watch Der Führer freak out. I could make a list of dozens of things I’d like to have seen, but that one will do for now.
If you’ve read all of this, you obviously need a hobby. However, now you know me, up close and personal. Unfortunately, it’s probably too late to change your schedule.
