Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Dr. Burton

Not to long ago, I switched my Theatre major to PHRE. It all happened when I walked into a professors office and asked for help with my schedule. I didn't know Dr. Burton very well, I had only gone to a few of her ballet classes and we briefly discussed aesthetics at a PBK last semester, but I did not expect her to recognize me, let alone know my name. Not only did she remember me, but she was incredibly excited to hear that I was interested in her field of expertise. Within seconds, I was in the process of filling out change of major forms and selecting her to be my advisor. She told me I could have an override into any of her classes and I chose History of Philosophy I: Ancient Greece. The class and the professor have both been phenomenal.

I'm the type of person that needs strong mentors. In high school I had three: (the R's) Mr. Rudzinski, Mr. Robson, and Miss Rusnak. The first was a history and theology teacher and it is no surprise that I am now majoring in most of his areas of expertise. Mr. Robson, my art teacher, taught me about my favorite truth excersize: plastic art. I only was able to spend a year with Miss Rusnak discussing literature, but in that year I learned I was not the greatest writer since Fitzgerald and that humble relization helped me improve.

All three of these people still keep in touch with me, especially Mr. Robson. In fact, I had the opportunity to spend time with him yesterday. He's so gloriously sarcastic and brilliant. Nearly all I know of art is due to his patience to answer my myriad questions. When I went into his office yesterday I noticed that so many of his attributes (the rotting apple, the half bitten cheese on the wall and the capes we made when we dressed up as him for super hero day) all still littered his wall. I just love how they share the wall with great works of Post Impressionism and Fauvism.

Anyway, I plopped into that chair and it was like seventh hour had recently ended, and it was just the two of us waiting for A-Team practice. I didn't realize how stressed out I was until he asked me how things have been. I told him of my crazy schedule, recent domestic issues, paradoxes, my always pulsing inferiority complex -- he listened, responded, shared his own troubles. It was so nice to catch up. His mentorship would be worth several chapters in an autobiography and I cannot express how much I appreciate his quite wisdom and the hours we've spent talking in that ridiculous office.

Dr. Burton's office is a place I'm starting to find solace in as well. Naturally, I do not talk to her about unacademic issues and we do not have nearly as many inside jokes, but she is helping me realize the vast possibilities available to Truman students. She also day dreams for me, which is fantastic. I love how excited she becomes when we talk about my future and what I can become. Princeton and the Rhodes Scholarship seem almost tangible with all of her encouragements. The latter is a long way off -- and it seems almost presumptuous to mention... but Dr. Burton and I will dream and I will do my best to be worthy of the future we invision.

1 comment:

Amy said...

I love the poem! Thanks for that. Also, my mom scanned in the Israel trip itineraries, so I should have those to you soon.

Man, I can't wait to have Dr. Burton...