The Wierd Ones
I've always had a soft spot in my heart for kooky teachers.
In highschool, it was Mr. Wilson, who referred to himself as: The Wilson. The corpulent balding man of sixty still lived with his mother, wore a green labcoat to class everyday and made us all sew stuffed moles for Avogadro's Birthday. (ha ha ha, get it? A "mole" of any element has Avogadro's number amount of atoms in it...get it? Oh, nevermind.) It was like "bring your teddy bear to school" day and "Holloween" all rolled into one since we dressed up our moles with wacky costumes and had a contest and candy.
In college I came to love Prof Leslie Threatte, another over sixty round fellow who still lived with his mother and rhapsodized about Classical Greek poems. He also referred to himself in the third person as "L. Threatte." For example: "L. Threatte would rather that accent be on the penultimate syllable since it would lend more comedy to the line. But who is L. Threatte to question Aristophanes?"
And now, in law school I have Prof. H. The class loves him. He's quite a departure from my previous favorite teachers, being younger, in good trim shape, and not living with his mother. But he looks funny and says wierd things nevertheless.
Yesterday in class, he was belaboring how an angry plaintiff wanted to get money out of a certain defendant who fled to another state to escape the lawsuit. "What's the plaintiff to do?!" bellowed Prof. H. (he loves to yell). "Should he drive all the way to Missouri to seize his assets?!" And as he said "seize his assets" he put out both his hands and did a kind of grabbing action as if squeezing a pair of imaginary ummm... "oranges"...if you get my drift.
The entire class could NOT stop laughing. With a look of great annoyance on his face, Prof. H. waited for the laughter to die down and said:
"Oh, gosh. I'm so glad I decided not to teach third graders. They're so immature. I get to teach serious law students." As he spoke he rolled his eyes in disgust, all the while garnering more laughter from the class.
In highschool, it was Mr. Wilson, who referred to himself as: The Wilson. The corpulent balding man of sixty still lived with his mother, wore a green labcoat to class everyday and made us all sew stuffed moles for Avogadro's Birthday. (ha ha ha, get it? A "mole" of any element has Avogadro's number amount of atoms in it...get it? Oh, nevermind.) It was like "bring your teddy bear to school" day and "Holloween" all rolled into one since we dressed up our moles with wacky costumes and had a contest and candy.
In college I came to love Prof Leslie Threatte, another over sixty round fellow who still lived with his mother and rhapsodized about Classical Greek poems. He also referred to himself in the third person as "L. Threatte." For example: "L. Threatte would rather that accent be on the penultimate syllable since it would lend more comedy to the line. But who is L. Threatte to question Aristophanes?"
And now, in law school I have Prof. H. The class loves him. He's quite a departure from my previous favorite teachers, being younger, in good trim shape, and not living with his mother. But he looks funny and says wierd things nevertheless.
Yesterday in class, he was belaboring how an angry plaintiff wanted to get money out of a certain defendant who fled to another state to escape the lawsuit. "What's the plaintiff to do?!" bellowed Prof. H. (he loves to yell). "Should he drive all the way to Missouri to seize his assets?!" And as he said "seize his assets" he put out both his hands and did a kind of grabbing action as if squeezing a pair of imaginary ummm... "oranges"...if you get my drift.
The entire class could NOT stop laughing. With a look of great annoyance on his face, Prof. H. waited for the laughter to die down and said:
"Oh, gosh. I'm so glad I decided not to teach third graders. They're so immature. I get to teach serious law students." As he spoke he rolled his eyes in disgust, all the while garnering more laughter from the class.
posted by Alice in Wonderland at 8:17 PM
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