He sneaks in on nights and weekends

When I first applied to college, I applied with Psychology as my first choice in major. One of the colleges I applied to asked for a second choice. At the time, I was also doing well in my college-level English class I was taking. In high school, I was in honors classes and I was accelerated in math and science, but when it came time for my senior year, I opted for the college level Psychology course and English course which were taught through Syracuse University. My high school was relatively moderate in size: ~1000 students.

Of the 30 or so kids that I had been fast-tracked with, I was closer to the middle or bottom of that group. Taking the college level English class was a gamble. I got the distinct impression that it was a very difficult course. There was talk that there were students who were projected to do well and those who were not. I was one of those students who they worried about.

But something clicked for me in that class. The writing assignments were more difficult than a lot of the things I was asked to write in college. After one or two papers, the instructor (who had also taught me for 10th grade honors) started to have more confidence in me.

So it was with this in mind that I put English down as my second choice in major. But in truth, it was Psychology that I wanted to study. I've always been fascinated my human behavior and interaction. Funnily enough, my birthday, May 2nd, is the Day of Human Observation. I tend to exhaust myself analyzing not only others' behavior, but also my own as well.

I guess this blog is testament to that.

I applied to 3 colleges. I was wait-listed at one and accepted to two. One was in Virginia and one was in North Carolina. The school in Virginia accepted me for Psychology. The school in North Carolina accepted me for English. In the end, I chose the school in North Carolina. I chose it with the intention of switching to Psychology once I got there.

My first semester in college I took two Psychology courses: Social Psychology and Educational Psychology. I also took an early American Lit course with the instructor I had observed on one of my visits.

I was one of the few freshmen amidst juniors. I tried to prove myself. I also tended to speak up in discussion when it seemed evident that many had not done the reading. I disliked most of what we read, but I liked the professor.

At the end of the semester he pulled me aside and told me to take a particular instructor before I graduated. I was curious that he seemed so adamant that I take this guy.

The next semester, still classified as an English major, I registered for the one class that all majors were required to take with the recommended professor.

He blew me away. He was engaging, wickedly intelligent, funny, and provocative. I was continually impressed by his ability to engage students in discussion about difficult texts. I was also encouraged by the fact that he was so interested in hearing what students thought about the reading. He was not the kind of literature instructor who had already reached the "right" interpretation. He had theories, sure, but he wanted to know what we thought too.

I know now that it's because of him that I stayed an English major.

I also went on to take 10 courses with this man before I graduated.

I believe I have the record even though so many other students repeated his courses - Enigma and Inquisitor were two of those people.

When I graduated, I felt like almost every literary thought I had in my brain belonged to him. He exposed me to texts that have most assuredly changed the way that I read both other texts and the world around me.

I used to go back to the suite in my dorm and tell outrageous stories about things that he had said in class or things students had done. Some of the stories seemed fabricated at times. But I continually realized that the college experience I was having was different from that of my friends. With each class I took from the man, he only spurred me on more. I think I could spend a lifetime learning from this man, and he would still have more to teach me. It's because of him that I spent many nights reading Rilke at 2am.

Fittingly, the last class that I attended in college was his class, on my birthday. He dedicated the class to me.

I left a year later for graduate school, somewhat terrified that I would not encounter another instructor like him. But I also looked forward to figuring out whether or not my thoughts about literature were my own, or just what I had absorbed from him.

I certainly had classes that I enjoyed in graduate school, but no one else has taught me the way he has.

When I came back to teach at my alma mater, I looked forward to coming back to see him. I knew that I would have the occasional opportunity to sit in on a class or two of his, and I looked forward to being able to drop by his office again - something I did very little of with professors in graduate school.

As luck would have it, he took his first sabbatical this term. I'd go into the mailroom and see his mailbox fill up and then empty, so I knew that he has been stopping by somewhat regularly. But I haven't seen him at all.

The other day a colleague of mine (who is always there), told me that he had seen him recently. He told me that he usually sneaks in on nights and weekends. It was no wonder then that I hadn't seen him.

I chuckled to think of him skulking into the department at such times. It just adds to his enigmatic status.

Last Thursday my stepfather spent the night at my apartment because he had job training in Durham. It was a two-day event, and he had homework to work on that night. He used my computer here at the apartment, but I don't have a printer. So I offered to take him to the department so we could print and make copies there. We went to campus around 9pm.

On our way out, I reached for the door to the street and saw the elusive professor on the other side of the glass.

It was an immediate rush. I remembered why there was a pull for me to come back to Raleigh despite the fact that I left so many friends in Boston.

We chatted for a few minutes and I inquired about sitting in on the graduate course he's teaching next semester (on Nabokov). He told me that it was full, but he'd let me in. Only me.

I can't wait.