My college life is over.
I have just the last few project submissions and a few sporadic lectures here and there left. But for most part, my college days are over. 10th of March is when it will be done with.
And I'm so depressed at the thought, that I could cry. Really. I'm not exaggerating. I'm one of those excessively sentimental people who gets attached at the drop of a hat and can't let go easily of people and things.
Anyway, I had my last lecture with the Professor I keep raving about last Thursday and it almost broke my heart. I couldn't believe that he would no longer be teaching me. No longer pushing me. I wouldn't be running late as usual for his lecture afraid of the famous glare. Moaning over how difficult his projects were. Scribbling SSR on his very well-known Harvard Business Review and the Economist handouts. No more listening to Bob Dylan songs in his lectures and no more notes from him every Teacher's Day signed affectionately the Crazy Old Man.
He spoke of remaining individuals, of how he knew that each one of us would do tremendously well professionally and how we would make more money than he ever did. But more than that, he wanted us to be happy and content.
I had tears in my eyes as he spoke but then I saw the same expression on the faces of my classmates. And I realised how absolutely lucky we were. To have a Professor who cared so much about us. More than we could ever possibly realise.
And in his words, "I'll stop here."
To my Professor Sudhakar Solomonraj, in the words of Alexander the Great, I am grateful to my father for living, but to my teacher for living well.
I have just the last few project submissions and a few sporadic lectures here and there left. But for most part, my college days are over. 10th of March is when it will be done with.
And I'm so depressed at the thought, that I could cry. Really. I'm not exaggerating. I'm one of those excessively sentimental people who gets attached at the drop of a hat and can't let go easily of people and things.
Anyway, I had my last lecture with the Professor I keep raving about last Thursday and it almost broke my heart. I couldn't believe that he would no longer be teaching me. No longer pushing me. I wouldn't be running late as usual for his lecture afraid of the famous glare. Moaning over how difficult his projects were. Scribbling SSR on his very well-known Harvard Business Review and the Economist handouts. No more listening to Bob Dylan songs in his lectures and no more notes from him every Teacher's Day signed affectionately the Crazy Old Man.
He spoke of remaining individuals, of how he knew that each one of us would do tremendously well professionally and how we would make more money than he ever did. But more than that, he wanted us to be happy and content.
I had tears in my eyes as he spoke but then I saw the same expression on the faces of my classmates. And I realised how absolutely lucky we were. To have a Professor who cared so much about us. More than we could ever possibly realise.
And in his words, "I'll stop here."
To my Professor Sudhakar Solomonraj, in the words of Alexander the Great, I am grateful to my father for living, but to my teacher for living well.
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