Twinkly/Inspiring the Impossible

From: j-bock@northwestern.edu
Subject: Re: Looking for Ralph Coate Stories!
Date: January 14, 2007 10:11:36 PM CST

When I think of Mr. Coate, I think of the first time I walked into his class. My first impressions were of a dim yellow room- the walls covered in faded posters, every surface not a desk covered with specimen jars and various biological paraphenalia. The smell... the smell was unique, to say the least. Old paper and plants and specimen jars mixing to produce a slightly alien scent... later on in the year, they'd be joined by the rank smell of bacteria in the incubator or the sharp tang of formaldehyde left over after a dissection, and always on test days just a hint of fear-sweat, but for now there were only the three.

And as we filed in, we stopped talking. There was something about the room that told you that you were going to be silent now. We found our seats. There were a few whispers, but nothing much.

And then there was the old man himself walking in. You never saw a twinkle in his eye. He might make a joke every once in a while, whenever the tension grew too much to bear, but he was not here to be our friend. He was here to be our teacher. If we would respect him for it, so much the better, but his overriding priority was to come hell or high water make certain that we left his class every day knowing more than when we came in.

A few of us were eventually privileged to see that he did fit the stereotype of the crusty old man with a heart of gold, yes, but oh, the layers of crust one had to endure to get there. Intellectually, we all knew he had a soul, but it was always a bit of a surprise whenever it showed up.

You know a Coate student by two signs. One is that when pushed, they will rise to the challenge- if nothing else, Mr. Coate taught us that we were capable of things we would normally think impossible. The second is that when pushed, and when those around them are whining about how what they are being asked to do is inhuman, they can always think back to the brain test. Or the Zoo lab practical. Or the countless Anatomy practicals.

And suddenly, whatever problem is facing them? At least it wasn't picking up a test that had only one question, "Tell me about the brain" and the horrible attendant knowledge that whoever told him the most would be the mark by which the rest of us were measured.

- Jim Bock