I made a living at chemical engineering on a combination of
perseverance, humility (when it came to listening to the old-timers),
mathematics, mathematical physics, good intuition, the ability to use
cookbooks when needed, and above average lucky ideas.
Nevertheless, I could not even feign an interest in what we call *nuts
and bolts*, e.g., the construction of centrifugal pumps, which, to me,
are enthalpy increasers that have no other first- and second-law effects.
Pressure change is not a first-law or second-law effect in this
discussion; it is a mechanical effect.
I am adept at English yet I failed miserably as a teacher - not
according to me, my wife, or other faculty, but according to my teaching
evaluations. The kids just hated me, which contributed to a vicious
cycle as I began to fear and despise them. During the first final exam
I gave I discovered nearly everyone had a copy of the instructor's manual
(read: answer book) for our text. I stopped the test and collected all
those who agreed to hand them in under a temporary amnesty guarantee. (I
told them anyone caught with one subsequently would get an F and a demand
from me that the student be expelled.)
After the exam, a student who lived in the dorm across the street
returned to the room where my assistants and I were mopping up. He
insulted me in the most vulgar terms, claiming I was "the laziest teacher
he had ever had". Now, I am as lazy as the next guy; but, if he had any
idea of the work I put into that course so that I could lecture without
notes for example, he would have been ashamed if, indeed, shame is within
his capacity to experience. I asked for ID, which he refused to produce.
Instead of kicking him out of the building on the basis that he could
not prove he was a Clarkson student without ID, I should have announced
that the grades of everyone in the class would be reduced by one letter
grade for each day he did not confess his identity and produce an apology
until everyone had an F. Or, better yet, I should have kicked his ass -
putting him in the hospital but not killing him. I get angry again (and
sad) just thinking of how miserable I became when I read teaching
evaluations, which didn't even bother with tact or any consideration
whatever of my feelings. This from a miserable bunch of incompetents and
cheaters. That college converted many excellent day laborers into
useless parasites. (It was a Clarkson chem. e. grad who bears the main
responsibility for Bhopal!)
But, I was so unhappy. I have no idea how anyone manages to avoid the
treatment I received. To this day, I have no idea what I did wrong, as
no one who is completely innocent suffers like I did.
I have no idea what good this posting will do, but I assure you that it
did me good "to get it off my chest", although I have confessed it
privately to one of you previously. I have a great admiration for
teachers, but what makes them a teacher remains a mystery to me. (I
visited the class of a man who was awarded "bets professor of the year"
by the President of the United States". I found his approach tedious,
uninspired, and *wrong*.)