No Ordinary Professor

Have you ever had a professor who brought out the best in you?

They push you to excel beyond your expectations. They tell you the truth when it hurts and praise you during pivotal moments. They are the minority among their peers and their uniqueness is a distinguished characteristic. They are no ordinary professors.

I've been blessed to meet one.

I call her Professor Judy - an honorable reference for a beautiful person. I refuse to refer to her as just Judy although that's her name. Professor Judy is my way of saying, "I respect you." I admire her work ethic and strength. She's one of the most intellectually sound professors I know.

I've learned from observing Professor Judy in and outside the classroom. Her advising comments come to mind when I contemplate doubt. I can hear her now, "When you say you're gonna do something, you need to do it." Or "You need to pay meticulous attention to every word." And the most memorable: "Deadlines are important!"

I met Professor Judy during my first year as a journalism student at The University of Iowa. Her class, advance reporting and writing, was the first course I took. Then nervousness trickled through my mind as I questioned my journalistic capabilities. Within weeks, she managed to bring out the best in me, introducing me to strong journalism works that inspired me to think beyond the glass ceiling I was accustomed to.

I'd heard of her uniqueness from other students. Like them, I've grown to cherish this phenomenal professor.

Her works are not the only reason she's exceptional. I could tell you about her tireless efforts to take UI students to Beijing for the 2008 Olympics. Or I could enlighten you with her talented writing and artistic photography. I'm sure you'd be amazed by her research subjects. Her willingness to be a guiding presence to me is what I'm most thankful for.

She never wavered or gave up on me despite my academic tardiness and stubbornness. She pushed me to go beyond my limited expectations. As a result, I knew my last meeting with her would be bittersweet.

I didn't want to say farewell. I'd bought her a card but stumbled to articulate my heart-felt words. I hesitate to personally express my feelings. So I guarded my inner emotions by shortening my conversational reactions. I wanted to tell her thanks and ask why she never gave up on me. I'd hoped to say, "I'm gonna miss you" but I knew that would definitely cause tears.

I didn't cry during our meeting. But as soon as I left her office, the tears came. I thought of the times she encouraged me and said something that generated a sparkle. I wondered why life transitions just when profound people come about.

As usual Professor Judy offered her wisdom to me via e-mail: "You will keep learning in the school of real life, which is not always a great place but a better teacher after all. Stroll with confidence into the next phase of life. Don't ever ever ever sell yourself short."


Although I'm graduating and moving on to life's next journey, I shall never forget Professor Judy. She is no ordinary professor.

Salaam,
E. Tanille