There is a good reason why my music speakers are currently resounding with "Che Gelida Manina." Perhaps I never would have heard of the soaring aria, composer Puccini, or "La BohEme" had it not been for one of my teachers.

Tom Davis may have had an ordinary name, but he was an extraordinary teacher. Who else would dare give lessons about opera appreciation to a gaggle of elementary school students who would rather blast pop hits than "De Miei Bollenti Spiriti"? Yet under his tutelage, we each received a full Italian libretto of Verdi's "La Traviata" and were instructed to memorize the most famous arias. There would be a test. Over time, the music grew on us, and we eagerly anticipated the culmination of our studies: attending a live opera.

On the day of the field trip, the gilded opera house with its undulating velvet curtains beckoned. Intrepid Mr. Davis had secured us box seats. Mesmerized, we took in the performance, recognizing arias which to this day remain favorites.

Mr. Davis also inspired our scientific curiosity. After having us perfunctorily sign in our science textbooks, he asked us to place them back into our desks.

"We won't be using those anymore," he announced. Instead, he taught us science empirically. Each year, for example, Mr. Davis would take 30 youngsters on a three-day trip to a nature ranch. We planted sprouts, peered at egret chicks, listened to American Indian tales by campfire, and learned teamwork by sharing kitchen patrol duties. Afterward each student was assigned to contribute an essay and illustration to a handmade compendium covering our adventures.

Mr. Davis would bring us to bookstores during the Christmas season, and the top readers in the class would be awarded a best-seller. Mr. Davis liked instructive prizes. Instead of the usual pencils and stickers, he would give away a carved quartz donkey from Mexico or a piece of Wedgwood china, sparking our interest in other cultures.

Although we spent much of our time off campus, experiencing and learning to appreciate the world around us, Mr. Davis did wonders to our classroom as well. The classroom was just a humble trailer, but somehow he made space for a darkroom where we developed our own photos. And he transformed it into a haunted house for Halloween.

Mr. Davis understood each student's particular gifts and talents. While some enjoyed choir, others preferred disassembling transistor radios. Several students competed in spelling bees, while basic calculus challenged math geniuses John and Wilfred, who eventually both earned their Ph.D.s John decided to forgo the prestige of university research or a lucrative corporate position, and instead has recently decided to become ... a teacher.

Regrettably, Mr. Davis experienced an early disease-induced death. Our whole 'ohana received the news with sadness.

Yet the profound influence of Mr. Davis' teaching continues, whether through something picayune, like my fondness for opera, or something more significant, like John's change of career.

Thanks to Mr. Davis, we are all still students of, and for, life.

Freelance writer Monica Quock Chan lives in Honolulu with her husband and daughter.

Reach Monica Quock Chan at islandlife@honoluluadvertiser.com.