He was standing on the corner, looking lost. Glancing around quickly, almost flailing, he was clearly bothered by something. Or someone. As I crossed the street, coffee in hand, I prayed he wouldn’t notice me. Just looking at him was making me uncomfortable.

I call him Professor Seinfeld, not Doctor Seinfeld, because that’s who he was to me. He was a teacher, an educator, a scholar of the highest caliber. I was lucky enough to enroll in his Human Behavior III class last year. From the first lesson, he took my breath away. His examples were vivid and memorable; his teaching style casual yet captivating.

Upon a midnight dark and dreary
While I typed, eyes a-bleary
Teeth a-chatter, fingers freezin’
Window up to let the breeze in
Any trick, and any way
To keep the evil sleep at bay