teachings of time

he told us to call him Teo. contrary to the claims of the sexy and secular sticker on his chest, my professor proclaimed to the class that while he may not be the james dean of our time, he was definately not partisan when it came down to religion. "if you are a believer, that is your problem, not mine."

the atheist whose friends call him God had returned from his cross-continental journey and soon filled the 300 student class in on the medical miracle that was his son's surgery. few of us had ever spoken to this man personally, and the class had just started two weeks ago, but he poured himself out to us, binding us to him through this act of honesty.

at home, when lying on his back lawn, he is the man who spares the ants wandering across his open reader. every evening, before he goes to bed, he places his collected figurines on their sides "so they don't have to stand up all night," he told us. cuban music fills the hall before lecture, and he answers phones students have forgetten to turn off. "'ello? who ees thees? ...no, you cannot speak to pablo. pablo ees keednapped. he ees... meat!" pablo's friend is comforted by Teo's promise that pablo will call him back in 34 days.

lecture begins, a conversation between the collective voice of 300 and our guru. during a discussion of medieval romances, Teo puts the question to use: if you could ask for anything from the gods, what would it be? for true love. for universal knowledge. for understanding. one after the other, we sputtered out answers hurriedly. then a boy in the back raised his hand. "for this girl next to me."

such is the magic of a class whose professor hides nothing and bases his lectures on honest life.