Have you ever read the book "Tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Albom? If not, you can read here what the book is about.
It is a short little book, that is a quick read. I'm nearly a third of the way through the book right now and I can't help but smile with each page that I read because it is unbelievable how much this book reminds me of the moments I spent with a mentoring professor of mine.
Professors can be such brilliant individuals...
Here is an excerpt from the book that I read last night that I really enjoyed:
He enters the classroom, sits down, doesn't say anything. He looks at us, we look at him. At first, there are a few giggles, but Morrie only shrugs, and eventually a deep silence falls and we begin to notice the smallest sounds, the radiator humming in the corner of the room, the nasal breathing of one of the fat students.
Some of us are agitated. When is he going to say something? We squirm, check our watches. A few studnets look out the window, trying to be above it all. This goes on a good fifteen minutes, before Morrie finally breaks in with a whisper.
"What's happening here?" he asks.
And slowly a discussion begins--as Morrie has wanted all along--about the effect of silence on human relations. Why are we embarassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?
I am not bothered by the silence. For all the noise I make with my friends, I am still not comfortable talking about my feelings in front of others--especially not classmates. I could sit in the quiet for hours if that is what the class demanded.
On my way out, Morrie stops me. "You didn't say much today," he remarks.
I don't know. I just didn't have anything to add.
"I think you have a lot to add. In fact, Mitch, you remind me of someone I knew who also liked to keep things to himself when he was younger."
Who?
"Me."
Thursday, July 06, 2006
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