Computer teacher's retirement brings end to an era – Payson Roundup
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Clear to partly cloudy. A stray shower or thunderstorm is possible. Low 64F. Winds light and variable.
Updated: June 24, 2022 @ 11:01 pm
Generations of Bud Evans’ Payson High School computer students showed up for his backyard retirement party.
In his 15 years as a teacher in Payson, Bud Evans took many students on field trips as part of the FBLA computer sciences club.
Retiring computer sciences teacher Bud Evans watches a video tribute put together by former students.
Consulting Publications Editor
Generations of Bud Evans’ Payson High School computer students showed up for his backyard retirement party.
In his 15 years as a teacher in Payson, Bud Evans took many students on field trips as part of the FBLA computer sciences club.
Retiring computer sciences teacher Bud Evans watches a video tribute put together by former students.
They gathered in Bud Evans’ backyard to half-celebrate, half-mourn the end of an era.
His last batch of kids and generations of graduates lined up for burgers and hot dogs off Evans’ grill, honoring the soft-spoken teacher’s transformative impact on their lives — along with the field trips and conferences and all the stuff they got away with.
After 15 years at Payson High School, the computer science teacher retired in May. In that time, he built up a thriving program in computer technology and programming. He took on the hours of extra work to run the local chapter of Future Business Leaders of America (FBLA) — taking generations of kids to competitions and conferences. He won awards, changed lives — and sent countless kids with a passion for computers, programming and technology out in a thirsty world.
He was one of those teachers who created a safe space, a second home. The generations of students gathered in his backyard swapped stories, teased, joked, beamed and sorrowed.
One student recalled the day Evans asked his tight-knit advanced computer class if they knew what was going on with “Jeremy” — who’d stopped coming to class.
“We should go see,” said one student. “He lives close.”
So Evans gathered up the class and they all trooped over to Jeremy’s house, who answered the door in his pajamas — abashed and apparently well. He promised to come back to school and Evans led his Merry Pranksters back to class.
That’s the thing. Bud Evans noticed. And Bud Evans cared. Maybe that’s why kids kept coming back. Staying in touch. Sometimes when they needed to know they belonged, needed to know they mattered, they’d ditch other classes to come to the computer lab, just to hang out and be part of that odd and intense fraternity.
A parade of family and former students joined the party by video — offering their own heartfelt tributes.
“Everything I do now, I learned in your class,” said a student, now a tech-specialist in the Air Force. “It was a safe environment — and you were a role model. Most of us had some kind of social anxiety — and we needed that.”
Evans had a full, 20-year career as a communications engineer before he retired from that first stint of service and hit upon teaching for his next adventure. He also earned two different master’s degrees. So he brought a depth of real-world skills to the classroom, together with a soft, gruff heart.
“Your class was a safe space — and you taught me so much about the real world,” said another student on the video connection. “You were the best teacher I could have had in high school.”
“I don’t know where I would have been without your class,” said another.
“You truly were amazing,” said another, “even when you went subzero,” computer class slang for when slackers finally got to the normally even-tempered Evans. “Thanks for being our FBLA parent. Bravo Zulu and take care.”
“It’s only thanks to you I would have even considered this route in my life,” said another, now an IT specialist.
His wife also posted a video tribute to him — which melted the hearts of the listening students, watching with this role model of a marriage partnership. “I am so proud of how hard you worked. I have enjoyed living vicariously through you. Some of our kids got a little jealous about you calling all the students ‘your kids.’ But they all understand now. I am sad to see this end, but am excited to go forward to new adventures.”
She’s an accountant. They have a tentative offer to do accounting for movie and television productions — some of them overseas.
The computer sciences program in the end fell victim to education bureaucracy. Evans designed the program using a beginning class on creating computer games. It proved widely popular — luring kids into programming long before they had any notion of a career. Creating computer games proved a reliable feeder class, allowing Evans to connect with kids who would then take two more years of computer science classes. It also enabled him to recruit students for FBLA, with its field trips, conventions and competitions. But the gaming class wasn’t part of the state curriculum — and not eligible for the extra funding that came with the computer career classes. So the district dropped the gaming course — and kept the more lucrative career computing classes.
The move came right before the pandemic. Losing the gaming class dried up recruitment — and the pandemic drained enrollment from the program — as well as limiting FBLA activities. Instead of rebuilding the program, the district opted to let it fade away.
After the video tribute, Evans rose to address his kids — furtively wiping away a tear.
“He’s gonna flood,” someone said in the back.
Evans rolled his eyes and steadied his voice.
“I thought being in the Air Force was hard,” he said, “but teaching …”
He paused again. “Best job I ever could have had. You all have made me proud — being with you. I do love you. I do love you all.”
Everyone looked abashed, but thirsty for the words.
“And when you go home,” he added, “take some food. We’ve got way too much.”
“Group hug,” shouted someone in the back.
It’s so hard saying goodbye, even to someone you’ll never forget.
Contact the writer at paleshire@payson.com
Consulting Publications Editor
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