alumni events & news THE LESSONS THAT LAST Remembering Former English Teacher and Aquinas Alumnus Michael Haugh ‘63, as told by Nina Alvarez ‘96 One of the most enduring aspects of the Aquinas experience is the connection between teachers and students. Long after diplomas are handed out and years pass by, the lessons, encouragement, and relationships formed within these halls continue to shape lives in profound ways. For Nina Alvarez ’96, that connection came in the form of Michael Haugh ’63, AQ teacher, mentor, fellow writer, and friend. Following Mr. Haugh’s passing in October 2025, Nina reflected on the impact he had on her life, and the lives of other students. In her own words, Nina shares the story of a teacher whose influence extended far beyond graduation day… I nearly failed my freshman year at a public school. Though I filled notebooks with poems and read great novels until my eyes watered, I just couldn’t thrive in class. I felt lost and invisible. So, my parents pulled me out and sent me to Aquinas. At my new school, I met Mr. Haugh—tall and imposing—a no-nonsense English teacher who demanded my best. He gave us vocabulary quizzes every Monday. I’ll never forget “bulwark” and “stalwart”— words that would later become a part of my internal lexicon, especially in reference to him. One day I was sitting on the gym bleachers. A new teacher who would go on to be my tennis coach said something to me, almost idly, that would become a core memory—that Mr. Haugh had told him I’d been in non-regents English at my previous school and had shaken his head. “What a joke.” It wasn’t just admiration, it was indignation that I had been overlooked— as though something important in me had nearly been lost. His witness of my true abilities changed me. Michael Haugh was also known for his tough love. His infamous “reality phone” bit. Whenever we were being obtuse, he would hold his thumb up to his ear, his pinky to his mouth like a telephone and say, “Ring ring. Reality calling!” He wanted us to wake up, to be ready for life. As Chris Latoski, class of ‘97, told me: “He was tough on me but he taught me how to write research the hard way.” Chris went on to use these skills in college and grad school. Michael Haugh’s encouragement and high standards set me on a course for honors English, then AP English, then a masters in English, and finally into a career as a writing teacher, writer, editor, and publisher. Along the way, I never forgot him. After I graduated college, I brought him my poems, climbing those stairs to his small office. He shared his poems with me too, and there we formed a true peership. At one point, I opened a small space for writing classes and spiritual development. Nobody came to the soft launch except Michael. I had worked so hard to make something special. I think Mr. Haugh could sense that. He sat with me kindly, a little awkwardly, and told me about the Enneagram. It turns out I’m a 4—the need to be special, rooted in the fear of abandonment. It made sense given how deeply I cherished being seen by him as a teenager. He told me that he was an Enneagram 1—the need to be right—and about the shadow of that. Even the strength that had awed me as a teenager, he felt, had sometimes pushed away communion. He also told me how the second half of life is becoming who you really are. About working through the shadow side of your Enneagram to its healed state. I was honored to post one of his poems about the middle stages of spiritual maturation, called “The Middle is Twilight,” on my poetry blog, ninaalvarez.net. Mr. Haugh’s quote in the Arete, 1996 18 AQUINAS LANDMARK | SUMMER 2026
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