Professors are some of my favorite people at Furman, aside from when they give me the grade I probably deserve.

As have I, after midterms get graded.

Everyone will wind up gravitating to a different kind of professor. It wouldn’t be true for me to say I absolutely loved all of my professors, but you won’t get that anywhere. Some teaching styles click, others don’t.

There’s also, you know, the ones you don’t click with.

A few of my favorites are easy. Dr. Morris taught me to write poetry, which is the sort of feat that usually gets people nominated for Nobel prizes. Dr. Hansen is the only person I know who was able to pronounce every name in our Eastern European history textbook. And of course there’s Dr. Bartlett, who managed to make watching a Spanish telenovela every week enjoyable.

Of course, there’s more than a few professors that are terrifying. You’ve heard they teach the weed-out course that scares away half the freshmen, or the assigned reading every night is measured in books and not in pages. I’ve had a few of those too – namely, my health sciences professor, who I believe could bench press a bison. But, to reach the conclusion that the Harry Potter motif has been building towards – usually, there’s a logic to their toughness, a point to all the reading, or a good reason for the work you don’t find out until the very end. So, I also want to give a shout out to the not-favorites, who are just as valuable.

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