Thanks, Dr. C

Joe Connors died Sunday in Minneapolis. He was 93 years old and probably was more than ready to leave us. He was done teaching us lessons.

To those of us at St. Thomas in the 1960s, 70s and 80s, he was Dr. Connors -- the imperious English professor who demanded -- and got -- much more from us than we knew we were capable of. (I suspect, however, he wouldn't like that I ended the previous sentence with a preposition.)

Dr. Connors' English classes were fascinating because he never talked down to you. Instead he talked at you. When you met with him in his office, he would listen to your complaints and then suggest working together to solve the problem. I once wrote a book review of Turgenev's Fathers and Sons, considered one of the best books of the 19th century.

I thought the book was boring and said so in my review. Dr. Connors invited me to his office to discuss my paper. "I suppose it never occurred to you that at some point in your life, you may have to do a boring task," he started out. "You are perfectly within your rights to find the book boring. But that isn't what I asked you to write about. I asked for a review of the book's story. You have 24 hours to do it. Thanks for dropping by." End of meeting.

I turned in my review the next day and got one of my few A's ever on a paper. "I may disagree with your premise here," Dr. Connors wrote on the paper. "But you backed it up with some proof. That's all I ask of a reviewer."

Good teachers get students to look and think ahead. Dr. Connors did more than drill the need for good writing into our heads. He insisted we consider the consequences of what we write. "You can't say you were misquoted or misunderstood when it is on paper. Think before you write something down," he told us one day.

Many years after I left school, I ran into Dr. Connors on a golf course. I asked him why he had been so hard on me and other journalism majors who were in his class. "I knew where your passions were so I never minded our little disagreements. It wasn't my job to be your friend. You wanted to make it your career and it was my job to get you ready for it," he smiled. "A lot of those other guys were there because they had to be. I gave them the respect they gave me."

I don't remember if I ever thanked him for pushing so hard. Well, better late than never.