Height isn't the reason super sub stands above

They had a basset hound, a tiny house in northeast Minneapolis and a quiet life. They now have 400 children, too.

All because Neil Brackett got his teaching license.

"Mr. Brackett," a regular substitute teacher at St. Anthony Village High School and St. Anthony Middle School, is proof that you can't always predict who the next superhero will be.

He stands 6 feet 7 with size 14 shoes, the latter a detail he gets asked about "50 times a day." He's a quiet fellow with a gentle drawl and a curious taste in ties. He used to be a draftsman before getting laid off and realizing that what he really wanted was to make a difference in kids' lives.

He paid no attention to that time suck called Facebook until early November when he got whiff of a surprising development. A seventh-grader named Connor Campbell decided that Mr. Brackett was the best teacher ever. So what if he was a sub? Connor, 12, created a Facebook fan page that says a lot about both Brackett and the wise man living inside of Connor. Its title: "Mr. Brackett Wins At Life."

"It was just a spontaneous idea," said Connor, whose parents limit him to about 30 minutes a day of Facebook time. "Whenever Mr. Brackett is in class, it's fun."

Brackett, 53, had no idea how to access the fan page, so his wife, Janet Ogden-Brackett, pulled it up. She said something like:

Since the launch Nov. 8, Mr. Brackett's Facebook fan club has grown to nearly 400 students at the high school and middle school, part of the St. Anthony-New Brighton School District. That's nearly half of the student body.

"We had great anonymity in our neighborhood until Neil started subbing at St. Anthony," said an amused Janet, 45, a loan fund manager for the Minneapolis-based Nonprofits Assistance Fund. They live about a mile from the school. "These kids, they're hanging out of car windows yelling, 'Mr. Brackett!' They know what time we walk our dog, when we go to the hair salon, gym, grocery store. It's fantastic, but it took some getting used to."

On Tuesday, Brackett stood in the hallway between classes, dressed in a striped blue shirt, black slacks, Air Jordans and a lime green and red Looney Tunes Christmas tie. The students offered high-fives (some leaping to do it), fist-bumps, waves, shouts.

"Hey, Mr. Brackett!" said one. "I totally wish I had that tie!"

"Tommy, how are you, buddy?"

"He's just easy to talk to," said Dan Johnson, 17, studying physics as Brackett circled the room. "When I see him in the hall subbing for another class, I ask him why he's not subbing for my class."

"He makes you do your work ..." said Paisley Pappas, a ninth-grader.

"... But he's not harsh," added desk mate Greta Aasen. "He's all around pretty sweet."

Mr. Brackett most likely wins at life, though, because life hasn't always been a cake walk for him.

"Growing up, he belonged in the land of misfit toys," said Janet, who has been married to Neil for 11 years but has known him for 20. "He's a really big guy. He was not the easily blending kid. He has great empathy for kids who are struggling."

When Connor asked Brackett for photos for the fan site, Brackett chose the kind most of us have burned. There's a young Mr. Brackett, wearing a dress thanks to his cousins. There he is in tights performing in the Madrigal, and at high school graduation, a skyscraper among his peers.

"What's brilliant about the photos," Janet said, "is that he's providing access. It's his way of saying, 'Not only am I available, but here's how geeky I was.' He shows the kids that you move beyond this."

Brackett grew up in Illinois and came to the Twin Cities as a drafter in the late 1980s, before shifting gears. He earned his teaching degree in 2006 from the University of St. Thomas. While subbing is not lucrative (he pulls in about $10,000 a year; his wife is the main breadwinner), it has been fulfilling and constant, sometimes as often as seven out of nine days.

He doesn't sub anywhere but St. Anthony, which is fine with the teachers. Many request him, said high school Principal Wayne Terry. "He makes sure kids get the assignments done," Terry said. "They say, 'Oh, thank God, I've got Neil. It's Thursday and I can still give the test on Friday.' "

The attention has been odd and humbling. But you know what? He's starting to enjoy it. "It's nice that by doing nothing," said the self-deprecating teacher, "I've done something."