In one of my many previous lives, I was a math person. I had done well on the SAT's, the University of Michigan gave me some change, and I was plonked into a high level calculus course with four other freshmen who had shown some aptitude for math.

The course was taught by Professor Piranian, a lively man who was interested in everything, but bled mathematics.

After a couple of weeks, I was floundering. It would take me an hour or two to solve a problem, and we had several to solve each week. I did not have that kind of time. (There were Frisbees to catch, philosophies to be debated, beer to drink.)

I went to visit him.

When I walked in, he was sitting behind a massive desk, intently reading. He had some classical music playing on the radio. I came to talk math, and he immediately asks me who the composer was.

I had no idea.
Uh-oh.

Once he settled down from his absolute consternation that a student of his might be a complete imbecile in matters of real music (he never asked me about the Ramones), we got to my concerns.

I told him I was obviously unqualified for the class (as much as I truly enjoyed his teaching), that it was taking me an hour or two to solve his problems.

He stopped me immediately.

"An hour or two?"
"Um, yes, sir, it takes that long...."

He blew up.

"An hour or two , an hour or two?! You are solving this in AN HOUR? I am not challenging you enough. You should be drinking math, you should be breathing math! You should be...."

This went on for some time. In retrospect, I think he meant well, and had I gotten to know him a little better, I may be teaching high school math now instead of high school biology.

One thing was clear, though--I was never going to be a professor of anything if it meant that kind of monomaniacal passion.

So I quit.

I went on to practice medicine in the projects and eventually teach high school, and John Savoie, one of the 4 students left, became a poet, though he subsidizes his income as a full professor in English. I'd love to know what happened to the other three.

I was going to write about testing metrics today, but in the process learned about Professor Piranian's recent death, and his wonderful life.

I am a madman in the classroom. I think maybe Professor Piranian had something to do with that.

Thank you, Dr. Piranian--I even know who Beethoven is now.

(Hey, he was the Unabomber's professor, once, too--the things you learn on the internet!
Sometimes monomania leads to undesired results.)




(Dr. Piranian's photos are from his website, used with permission.)