Tuesdays with Morrie

Renetly I am reading a book, named "Tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Alborn, which is introduced by my Korean friend in Canada, Vicky.

The story synopsis:

The last class of my old professor's life took place once a week in his house, by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves. The class net on Tuesdays. It began after breakfast. The subject was The Meaning of Life. It was taught from experience.

No grads were given, but there were oral exams each week. You were expected to respond to questions, and you were expected to pose questions of your own. You were also required to perform physical tasks now and then, such as lifting the professor's head to a comfortable spot on the pillow or placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Kissing him good-bye earned you extra credit.

No books were required, yet many topics were covered, including love, work, community, family, aging, forgiveness, and, finally, death. The last lecture was brief, only a few words.

A funeral was held in lieu of graduation.

Although no final exam was given, you were expected to produce one long paper on what was learned. That paper is presented here.

The last class of my old professor's life had only one sutdent.
I was the student.

Source:http://www.albom.com/morrie.htm

When I read this book, I thought about my professor. She was my instructor of my master essay. She had four students, of course, including me. She was quite strict, not only in supervising our studying, but also in our life behaviors. Until now I am still a little afraid of her. I remember at that time, every Wednesday was my hell day because I had a meeting with her in every Wednesday morning. In the meeting I had to present what the process of essay that I have done in the past week, and answered a lot of tough questions she asked. She rarely smiled to us and praised us. In order to preparing Wednesday meeting, I always couldn't sleep well on Tuesday's night.

When I was a student, I though that was my nightmare to be her student. However, when time went by, I thought I am grateful to her for giving me strict training. Although the statistics knowledge she taught me I have forgotten almost everything, the way to solve the problems, and the logistic thinkings that she inculcated us still help me a lot.

I am thinking maybe I should phone my professor, and tell her thank you for your teaching and your student still keep you in her mind.