When I was studying law at the Universite de Montreal,
in the time of the "French Canadian Revolution,"
The students had absolute command over the professors.
Which professors stayed.
Which professors were kicked out.
The students decided....instantaneously.
I’ll never forget the day a young professor came into the class,
terribly shy, terribly inexperienced.
He sat down, took out his notes,
and without even picking up his head to acknowledge the class,
began reading the lecture from his notes.
He never once looked up until the hour was ended
when he picked up his papers and left.
How did the students react?
Complete Silence.
From beginning to end.
And every student knew what that silence meant:
One more chance.
The next day, The same thing.
The class filed out.
How did the students react?
Complete silence.
Everybody knew what that silence meant the second time round
.
The "guillotine."
We never saw that young professor again.
The next professor taught constitutional law.
A different problem.
Nobody could understand a word!
He was an Anglo,
His French was atrocious!
And his accent was abominable!!!!
The pain in the classroom was palpable.
But despite the language handicap,
His brilliance shone through!
The unrest in the classroom was beginning to build up
It grew and grew until the class was desperate enough to almost yell out....
SPEAK IN ENGLISH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The revolution allegiance won out. |t suppressed this extreme expression of pain and suffering.
But the next semester the professor was back.
Brilliance overcame the guillotine.
His spoken French was acceptable,
So was his accent
He loved the students.
And the students loved him.
.A great relationship was formed.
Many years later, when we had all graduated,
the professor reappeared in a new role...
as the Minister of Justice
in the Liberal Quebec government!
