This morning I awoke to read that my friend and mentor, Joe Kincheloe, died of a heart attack late last night. Joe was one of the lions of critical pedagogy. Born and raised in Tennessee, his slow and gentle drawl comes to mind, even as I remember the complex ideas he would share with me.
Joe was a humble man, a musician, a writer, a thinker, and a teacher. I never felt small in his presence. I always felt welcomed and loved. My heart is broken, for his wife, Shirley, his children and grandchildren, his friends, colleagues, and students, and for all the people who will never get to know a wonderful man.
I would write more, but I don't yet have the words.