The coolest person on earth

Somewhere, floating in the wide ocean of humanity, there is an individual who qualifies as the Coolest Person on Earth.

This person is a university professor. I suspect that this person teaches undergraduates, but I am not sure. Ask me that in three years.

Few things are more infuriating than a rotten professor. The charge the professor keeps — to transform legal adults into thinking adults — necessitates a very high standard of quality. This exacting standard, however, implies that a good professor will be made of the finest material.

Students often complain about the volume of work assigned to them, the scarcity of sleep at school, and the irritation of existing within what often amounts to a socialist community. Some complain loudly about their teachers. But few students pause to consider what the life of a professor entails.

Like any good student, the professor is responsible for maintaining his or her own education. Like the student, the professor is rarely able to recognize any dichotomy separating school, work, and home life. Unlike most students, however, the professor is physically unable to go for days without sleep. Also unlike most students, the professor is responsible not only for his own education but also for the education of hundreds of other people. Most professors also have families and civic responsibilities. And despite this, the professor is generally a more cheerful and vibrant person than his or her pupils are.

I have seen something in many of my teachers that I can only describe as valor. One of my professors lives two hours away from campus on weekends, and teaches courses at another school besides. Yet this professor, who already carries more than a full course load, has been begging for permission to teach additional honors courses at LeTourneau.

Another doctor, who has also gladly gone on overload to teach honors courses, has young children. These children were often ill during the last semester; she was sometimes up all night with them. On Thursday afternoons, she would drive home to take care of her kids, then drive back to school to teach a course from seven to ten in the evening. I should also mention that her husband serves as the pastor of a small church, which by itself might involve full-time work for her.

Despite such responsibilities, most of my professors allow me to drop by their offices at will. I usually spend several hours a week in the liberal arts offices at LeTourneau. The liberal arts secretary greets me by name. I search the hallway for any open door and ensconce myself before the unfortunate doctor has a chance to flee. One prof often lends me DVDs; another cracks psychology jokes; others discuss politics. When the entire school of arts and sciences got new furniture for Christmas, I went home with one of the old desk chairs.

I know that a few of my readers are professors and graduate students. I guess I would like to express my gratitude.