This is my first year biology professor, a crisp, no-nonsense British guy. He was one of two professors teaching the course, and was famous for giving fill-in-the-blank tests with lots of blanks. An highly exaggerated version of his test might go something like, “the ____ of the ____ is _____ _____ ________.” That’s what the upper-years told us prior to the first test anyway. I learnt a bit too late that such a test would be easy if you went to class, stayed awake, took notes and actually studied, because the questions were pretty much word-for-word from the notes. Ah well. First year was very much a learning experience. Anyway, rumours abounded about this guy — that the only reason he was teaching as an emeritus was in exchange for lab space, or that he cultivated square tomatoes (or was it watermelons?). The few times I sat near the front of the lecture hall, I would watch him as stood on the stage before class began, his lips wordlessly moving slowly. Open, close, open, close. It was rather mesmerizing. A friend once told me that he asked if a rope brought into class was for a whipping party. Well, then.
After I graduated, I saw him swimming at the pool a few times, or sitting in the library reading the newspaper. In recent years, I’ve seen him walking around the neighbourhood. He’s easily recognizable in the hat he wears everywhere (not swimming though). Every time I see him, I want to run up to him, wave my arms wildly and yell “HI, DR DAVIDSON!” even though he has no clue who I am (I was one in a class of a few hundred, and I didn’t do very well in his class, even though I went on to get a minor in biology). I’ve thus resisted, mostly because I don’t think scaring him is such a good idea, nor is yanking along a child while frantically running after a person who doesn’t know me.
I took the picture in August without even realizing it was him, until after he got on the bus and Lucas pointed him out.Advertisements