What I will miss about Professor Jeffrey Seinfeld

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.

I remember coming to class a few minutes early and seeing him standing near the steps of the School, enjoying the fresh air. He would smile, give me a wave, and say that he would see me in a few minutes. I will miss that.

I remember his handwriting on the board, his chalk work so unreadable it could be considered an art form. I remember him joking about it, and good-naturedly reviewing what he had just written. I will miss that.

I remember him strolling into class with a cheerful “Hello, everyone!”; he came in with a grace and presence that comes only with years of teaching experience. I remember how we started class late and left early and yet I came away with more information than any other class I was taking. I will miss that.

I remember walking with him after each class to his private office on East 15th Street. We would talk about anything under the sun, because that’s what he was interested in. I remember his unconventional ideas, and his ability to challenge the status quo of the social work profession – something that only someone with his combination of keen analysis, true open-mindedness, and humility could pull off. I will certainly miss that.

I remember when we would meet in his office and chat about religion and spirituality, one of his favorite topics. I remember feeling like he was so interested in what I had to say, in having a real conversation, as though I knew so much more about the topic than he did. I will miss that.

I remember that we had planned to do an independent study together this semester. I say together because that’s how he made me feel about it, even though the work was supposed to be all my own. I remember the way his face lit up when we spoke about the possibilities of what I would write about in my study. I will miss all of that.

I remember that the last time I saw him, we were in his office on the third floor. As I stood to leave, I thought that it would be nice if I could take a picture with him, and I so happened to have my camera. I remember thinking Nah, it’s okay, I’ll just do it another time. I will miss that.

Professor: I will miss your humor, your humility, even your handshake. There is so much that I remember about you, and it is that much that I miss. And now you are gone. For others death may be imposing or frightening, but then they have not pursued religion and spirituality the way you did. Surely for someone so engrossed in such studies there is an afterlife.

I hope to see you there.

This post was originally posted on my NYU blog as part of the NYU Silver School of Social Work Student Blogger project. It was featured on the NYU Social Work website.