Chronicling the Enigmatic Dr. Root.
A breath that wuthers, a brow that writhes, and rheum that tumbles from the tip of a nose. Harmonizing to produce the desperate ring of misery. Here, weeping is an almost beautiful spectacle. Dr. Jonathan Root, however, a teacher to clawing youth and guide to wanderlust souls, extracts the tears from his pupils and illuminates the resplendence within.
His childhood, a rather capital endeavor of the world, took place in the fertile plains of yonder Topeka, Kansas. On nearing the crossroads of growing up, Dr. Root says, “I didn’t know what else I was going to do, so I decided to become a historian.”
A rather studious fellow, Dr. Root, upon completing his study at a university, snaffled ten broad years from his life to achieve the status of a PhD, during which, interestingly enough, he acquired a Master’s Degree as well. His PhD covers American religious history in the twentieth century, and he wrote, in particular, on things pertaining to the Prosperity Gospel.
A PhD implies a certain profoundness to a person, and Dr. Root, with just that, announced, after squinting and thinking deeply, “the meaning of life, you ask me? To have fun.” This statement would contradict many illustrious opinions, as “having fun” could, in theory, have certain negative implications. Say, if one brings great pleasure to themself by throwing stainless steel paper towel dispensers at moving entities, they may run into some difficulties somewhere down the road. But, as Dr. Root doesn’t carry himself too evilly, we should not interpret it thusly.
After earning a PhD, Dr. Root worked at a Target Distribution Center, an Amazon Fulfillment Center, and was a reading tutor for floundering youth betwixt the ages of kindergarten and third grade. At the Target Distribution center, he heaped boxes and boxes in truckses, wonderstruckses, and drove a fairy-like forklift to work. At the Amazon Fulfillment Center, Dr. Root brimmed boxes and cylinders with orders and demands, and did so until he was plucked from his grounds into the gurgling embrace of The Barstow School. Some time between, Dr. Root was a professor at the University of Missouri.
Dr. Root, despite being a sincerely adept fork-lift driver, finds himself unable to fathom the existence of goblins, and has no particularly favorite Behr paint color sample to date.
He is, though, tremendously devoted to Batman, with Batman posters frequenting the gladdening walls of his classroom, and, on the desk sprawling athwart such walls, a huddle of frantic, plastic batman figurines. As Batman is one of the few heroic figures without any supernatural capabilities, he is often overlooked as an inane skunk cabbage with little potential in life.
Dr. Root, a man of interesting words, remarked, “What drew me towards it initially was the design.” A series of wise words indeed. He said, as well, “I think Batman can raise important questions about mental illness and mental health.”
When not batmanning or PhDing or forklifting about, Dr. Root is in the habit of reading books. Oral Roberts and the Rise of the Prosperity Gospel by Jonathan Root, PhD, is a particular favorite of his. And when not reading, he teaches.
Dr. Root, abominably emotioned towards grading, does not teach for the gratification of watching his pupils fail, but rather, for the gratification of watching his pupils grow. Haply, his name coincides with the philosophy he marches with.
For what is a root, but one who hopes to watch its handiwork flourish into a glorious society of its own? And just as mycelium affixes plant roots to one another in order for the plants to dispatch information, Dr. Root transmits significant data to his earnest students and is handily equipped with a cell phone and laptop computer which anchor him to the wonders of the world.
Dr. Root also has a spontaneous fancy towards three-legged creatures, with Cleo, a three-legged cat named for the Greek Muse of history, Joe, a three-legged dog who, with all technicalities taken into consideration, belongs to his roommate Darin, and Bob, who, if truth be told, has four legs and is not particularly spontaneous, but, that is there and there is that and at is in and in is at.
Curiously, Dr. Root whirls in circles, whirls in squares, and whirls his bicycles around. “I do road cycling and I do gravel,” said Dr. Root emphatically, poking his beard. And poking and prodding and poking some more proves Dr. Root to be a fascinating individual with a daring tale to his name.
