I'm taking an incredibly interesting social psychology class. It's not so much the subject matter as the professor.
He's one of those rare profs that are truly passionate about their subject. They have this love and breadth of knowledge that they are dying to pass on, and it shines through into their style of teaching and discourse. It's a beautiful and refreshing change after umpteenth years of jaded, boring, dry profs.
I went to his office to ask him something and there was another student waiting to speak with him. We got to talking, and I spent half an hour with this bright eyed 20 year old. At first I was excited that this professor, whose passion I was desperately hoping wasn't wasted on the glass eyed masses in class, had inspired someone. This boy talked about how our prof had really made him examine himself and question what he wanted to do with his life. At 20, I think that's an incredibly healthy thing to do, and told him so.
He told me about his parents, about the pressure they're putting on him. About his childhood, about school and how he felt. About the paths that led him here, to this moment, outside the professor's office, talking to a stranger. It was apparent that these were Big Issues, this was a pivotal moment of grand importance where you see your life stretched out behind you, and you stare into the abyss going forward and wonder: What the hell am I doing?
I listened to him. I asked questions. I told him my honest opinion, that as much as he may feel under a landslide of pressure, it was never too late (as I stood there at 27 having only recently returned to school to start a whole new career). That his parents undoubtedly loved him, but his life was his own and they would love him even if he disappointed them. That he shouldn't disappoint himself.
We never exchanged names. He poured his heart and soul out, to a complete stranger, for half an hour. It was such a small slice of time, but when we parted ways I felt that something important had happened. That this professor had irrevocably touched another human being, had challenged him to challenge himself. That this boy had felt the need to divulge his soul to a stranger, to say thing he admitted he could not say to his own parents. That fate or timing or coincidence had brought me to that place at that time to listen and help and listen some more to another soul in pain.
It left me feeling oddly calm and content. It left me feeling hopeful. As much as I grieved with him for the pain of his immediate choices, that he was willing to look them head on and make them was inspiring.
I hope I helped.
