He was one of Carol Tate's brightest trigonometry students at Detroit Mackenzie, but it took a few months before she realized he was known for more than his grades and asthma.

"I didn't know he played football," said Tate, who began teaching at Mackenzie in 1970. "I used to ask him about his asthma and his allergies. It was first hour, and it used to bother him."

Claude Jackson knew the hulking lad with a big smile was an all-state football player, but he also was an excellent student in Jackson's government and economics classes.

"A lot of athletes would come in and go to the back," Jackson said. "He would sit in the front row. He was a very good student who was a unique person. He communicated with everyone."

More than 15 years after he graduated, Mackenzie's most famous alumnus was creating a buzz last Monday morning among teachers. Jerome Bettis had earned a trip home for Super Bowl XL as a running back for the Pittsburgh Steelers.

It is less than eight miles from Mackenzie to Ford Field, where the Super Bowl will be played. But this is where the journey began, and as a senior in 1989, Bettis led Mackenzie to the west side title and into the Public School League and state playoffs.

Philander Asaka taught Bettis' older brother, Johnny, and coached him in tennis, where the youngster bragged about his younger brother.

"Once, he told me his brother was headed for the pros," Asaka said. "Being from the public schools, we hear that a lot. But with Jerome it was true. From day one he had social graces and critical-thinking skills.

"You see him on TV and they call him The Bus, but he's still Jerome to us."

To Deborah Hanna, Bettis isn't The Bus (a nickname he received in college), he is her sergeant-at-arms — for the National Honor Society.

"He ruled with an iron fist; he kept order," Hanna said. "No, really he was a gentle giant. He was a delight. He was well-liked and well-respected in the National Honor Society."

So much has happened to Bettis since he left Mackenzie, located on Wyoming at West Chicago. He had a brilliant career at Notre Dame, and his performance in the NFL likely will land him a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame one day.

But in September of '89, Bettis told the Detroit Free Press that one of his proudest days came April 19 of that year. It was the day he was inducted into the school's National Honor Society.

Besides being a superb football player, Bettis was a serious student.

"He got all of his work done and did very well on his tests," said Tate, who also taught him in pre-calculus. "He was serious about correcting his mistakes. I would circle the mistake, and he would come back up and ask what he did wrong."

Former Mackenzie coach Bob Dozier first saw Bettis midway through his freshman year after he transferred from Detroit Henry Ford. Mackenzie was his neighborhood school.

"I was at my desk one day, and I was doing something urgent," Dozier said. "I heard someone say: 'Sir, my name is Jerome Bettis, and I'd like to know if I can play for you.' I turned around and saw him. He was 5-11, 190 pounds, and I said: 'Hell, yes, you can play for me.'"

In his first season at Mackenzie, Bettis played defensive line and rarely carried the ball.

"Their sophomore year, I put the guys down as defensive linemen to make them tough," Dozier said. "I did the same thing with Pepper Johnson and Kevin Brooks," who both played in the NFL.

As a junior, Bettis moved to linebacker and late in the season faced Ann Arbor Pioneer.

"At halftime, Pioneer coach Chuck Lori pulled me aside and said: 'Dozier, you're going to go to jail up here,'" Dozier recalled. "He said: 'If you don't get that Jerome Bettis out of there, he's going to kill somebody, and you're going to jail.'"

Jail was a destination for some youngsters in Bettis' neighborhood. Some of them were his friends, who turned to drugs when he turned to athletics.

"I see a lot of drugs right around the corner, right down the street," Bettis said in 1989. "You have to learn to say no to your friends. When we were younger, we'd run together and throw eggs and stuff like that. But when you get older the game is different.

"Guys say: 'Let's go sell some crack.' Your morals start to set in now. A lot of them aren't into that. I mean, you can make $2,000 a day selling crack. ... That's a lot of money, but in the long run I'm going to be better off than them. Crack starts corrupting you. By selling crack, you start losing your self-esteem. I think too highly of myself to sell crack."

Pat Jenkins, Bettis' physics teacher, said his parents did an excellent job keeping him on the right path.

Bettis' path on the football field went mostly straight ahead. As a senior, he rushed 123 times for 1,325 yards and 14 touchdowns. On defense, he made 157 tackles and batted down nine passes. Dozier touted him as a bona fide star, a description he typically reserved for the city's top athletes.

Some schools, like Ohio State, planned to play Bettis at linebacker if they could sign him.

Dozier knew better.

"I'd play that sucker on offense," he said then. "His eyes light up when you call his number. He runs with a viciousness."

He hasn't stopped. In the NFL, Bettis has rushed for 13,662 yards, fifth-most in league history. This is his 13th — and possibly last — professional season.

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Bettis' senior high school season ended in a 28-14 loss to powerful Birmingham Brother Rice, which included future college standouts Pete Mitchell, Steve Morrison, Gannon Dudlar and Bobby Utter. Bettis finished with 92 yards on 14 carries.

"I remember that, boy, oh, boy, we were really worried about him," said Rice coach Al Fracassa. "He was a very powerful runner, but we did a good job on him. I remember playing him at Groves Field. He was a good linebacker, too. He looks wider now. He was quick then. I'm happy for him."

John Herrington of Farmington Hills Harrison coached Bettis in an all-star game at Reno, Nev., the summer after he graduated from Mackenzie. Mill Coleman of Harrison was one of the quarterbacks on the team. One of the opponent's quarterbacks was Drew Bledsoe, now with the Dallas Cowboys.

"We were losing, and at halftime Jerome asked us coaches to stay outside and he was going to take care of the halftime talk," Herrington said. "He told the guys they didn't come all the way out there to lose, with a few expletives thrown in. He was a man then. He was the leader of the team, no question about it."

Bettis also has had a playful relationship with the press.

During Bettis' early years in the NFL, a Free Press reporter wrote a column questioning the authenticity of some statistics of players in the Public School League.

That morning, the reporter received a call at home.

"I was wondering, were my statistics bona fide?" the caller asked.

"It depends," the reporter said. "Who is this?"

"Jerome," the caller said.

"Jerome, who?" the reporter asked.

Jerome Bettis," he replied.

"Jerome, what are you doing in town?" the reporter asked.

"I'm in town to buy my mom a house," he said. "So, were my statistics bona fide?"

Yes, his statistics were bona fide. Everything about Jerome Bettis was bona fide.