A Lesson in Compassion

When I was an English major in college, I took a course on the life of writer and critic Samuel Johnson. My professor Mr. Curley began each lesson by entering the room and saying, "Good evening my students." The first time Mr. Curley used this greeting I thought, is this guy for real? Visions of the old TV show “Welcome Back Kotter” -- about the teacher who befriended his students – came to mind. After several nights of Mr. Curley's "my students" greeting, I had to consider the notion Curley might really consider us his students. What were his goals for us, I wondered?

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I found out. The textbook Curley assigned us on Johnson was long-winded and dull. Curley made it his mission to relate our lives to the sophisticated one within the text. For example, when Curley reached a point in the text that concerned Johnson’s bouts of depression, Curley explained Johnson was a person who tended to read and think a lot like us, and was more vulnerable to prolonged and profound emotion. When a chapter came that discussed a major highlight in Johnson’s life, such as Johnson’s Literary Club, Curley suggested that having a writing or book club was not only a healthy activity for Johnson but also for young people.

With every lesson, there was a corresponding life analogy that helped us understand Samuel Johnson as a real live person. Eventually, “our teacher’s” enthusiasm was contagious and by the third week, most of us felt we knew Johnson intimately. To boot, we looked forward to each late-night class when Curley offered his fresh brand of Life Inspiration, while the tired students thought of him as “their teacher.”

As we neared final exams, Mr. Curley devoted a significant chunk of class time to reassuring us we were not alone in our feelings of stress during that time of year.

"I can assure you none of you will be failing this course,” he said.

These words lifted a heavy brick from that room, letting hope and sunlight into our hearts. The class sighed a uniform sigh of relief. A few students cheered, “Yes!”

Mr. Curley added he knew all of us were exhausted, even depressed, from the tremendous effort we had put into our studies.

“Like Johnson your minds are constantly turning, making you prone to all sorts of feelings. There is a proven cure for anxiety and depression, by the way. It is being with other people. Sharing with others gives your thoughts validation."

I had been feeling run-down and anxious due to my worries over finals. But this was clearly one exam I didn’t have to worry over anymore. Mr. Curley had promised none of us would be failing the class. Not only that, his way of teaching related Johnson to us as a similar person with similar fears, and I was suddenly convinced this exam might even be enjoyable.

The course on Samuel Johnson taught me the meaning of final exams: to share personal lessons for the guidance of those who come next. When it was my turn to say farewell to my teacher after the exam -- an exam that totally focused on the person of Johnson as opposed to his historical status -- I looked at Mr. Curley and said, "Thank you so much." I wanted to say more, but my teacher's response was a quick "thank you." No last-minute words of inspiration. Mr. Curley had devoted a full semester's worth of lending us his most precious advice. He had adored coaching us through his chosen subject, a subject he identified with in a passionate and human way. In addition to educating his students, he'd taken care of our spiritual needs, giving us healthy new ways to move through life so we could look with hope and compassion toward our futures. His soft “thank you” showed he felt his station in life had been served.

Like my professor, you have the gift: to choose a subject you are passionate and compassionate about. Once you choose it, share it. You will always find a grateful audience who will be enlightened to do the same.

Thomas Curley's Information (from Bridgewater State College Home page):

Curley, Dr. Thomas / Professor / English / Tillinghast Hall / (508) 531-2427 / (508) 531-4427 (fax) / tcurley.bridgew.edu