Mr. Holstein

For over fifty years, Mr. Holstein dedicated his life to teaching mathematics to the children of Detroit. He was there from the very beginning — when Bates Academy opened its doors in 1981, Mr. Holstein was already shaping its identity, establishing the standard of academic excellence that would define the school for decades to come.

But Mr. Holstein taught far more than numbers. Generations of Bates students remember his “lessons on life” — the quiet wisdom woven into every class, the expectation that his students would not just solve equations but develop character, discipline, and the confidence to succeed in anything they pursued.

As the coach of Bates Academy’s Academic Games club, Mr. Holstein built one of the most formidable programs in the state. His teams didn’t just compete — they won state and national championships, putting Bates Academy on the map as a powerhouse of intellectual achievement. Rod Beard, now a well-known Detroit sports journalist, was one of his Academic Games players and a testament to the caliber of young people Mr. Holstein developed.

What set Mr. Holstein apart was not just his brilliance as an educator, but his commitment to equity. He ensured that every student who wanted to compete in Academic Games could do so, regardless of their family’s financial circumstances. No child was ever left behind because of money. That principle — that excellence should be accessible to all — defined his entire career.

His impact did not go unrecognized. Mr. Holstein received proclamations from the Detroit Public Schools Superintendent’s Office, the City of Detroit, the Detroit Federation of Teachers, and the Michigan Governor’s Office. He is connected to the Academic Games Hall of Fame — a fitting honor for a man who made competitive academics a source of pride and possibility for so many young Detroiters.

Mr. Holstein’s legacy is written in the lives of his students. Every Bates alumnus who learned to think critically, compete fearlessly, and carry themselves with integrity owes something to the man who stood at the front of the classroom and demanded their best — not for his sake, but for theirs.