So I met a fellow geek political scientist (e:chico) at the Matty's day party last night and he knew all my faculty and my mentor who had died over the summer and because I had to switch to another prof to do my thesis and I have been working on it a lot lately I have been thinking about Paul S (my prof) a lot. It was so nice to meet someone new who knew what a great guy he was and the whole thing got me thinking about how teachers influence you in your life without you even realising. My biggest problem with PSC used to be my frustration with the quantative methods and not really being sure if I ever knew what I was talking about and since he died I keep remembering the hundred and one little comments he made to me to encourage me and the time he took to support my studies.

There are so many great interactions that I can think of but
my favourite memory of him is the day he told me that I had earned a scholarship which meant I could stay in the department and finish my studies. He wasn't really supposed to tell me because it wasn't official yet but he knew I was anxious about it so he found me in the commons rooms asked me if I could keep a secret then looked both ways like we were robbing a bank before whispering to me that I the first choice and I was staying

.....then I started to cry and he was like 'shhhhh, Arnnika (like all buffalonians, unable to pronounce my name without adding an R!).....shhhhhhh, it's not official yet' but I was in shock so I didn't listen and I was just crying and he just started laughing and shaking his head and I was doing this silent victory dance on the chair which involved some truly bizarre robotic movements with tears streaming down my face and he was just laughing at me and trying to shut me up at the same time. Whenever I think of him I am so happy that we had that moment because it always makes me smile and makes me remember how genuinely excited he was for me despite the fact that he kept looking at the doorway and imploring me to calm down and get off the chair!

When he died I was in Britain and as soon as I found out I got the next plane to Buffalo to come to his funeral, I cried all the way over the atlantic and everyone was staring at me but I wouldn't have been anywhere else in the world that week. I think about him a lot and I think about what he would say to me when I get in a flap about something: 'Worry is overated Arnika......go have a beer'

The priest at his funeral said that his intelligence, knowledge and kindness was in each and every one of his students and would be passed on to their students which makes teaching and the relationship between students and teachers so special. Everyone has a favourite teacher and Paul S will always be mine.