I am going to tell you a story. It is not a long tale; it will only take a couple hundred words. The setting is Harvard’s campus, probably in the mid to late 80s. It is hard for me to remember exactly when this happened, but I will never forget what happened.
It was summer; most people do not know that summer classes at Harvard are open admissions. People come from all over the world to study for a couple months. High school kids also show up, really smart ones. The youngsters have to apply; there is a rigorous process they go through before their parents are allowed to fork over a basket of cash. At least, that is the way it used to be. It has been so long since I have been there that they may have moved the campus to San Diego. Doubtful, but you get my point.
I was taking a seminar in The History of Science Department. I can’t remember exactly what; it was probably something relating to medieval science, either that or the course topic was the PreSocratic philosophers.
There were 7 or 8 students in the seminar. One particular person of interest was a man in his mid -20s. He was from Germany, and his English wasn’t the best. I guessed he probably read the language much better than he understood or spoke it. That is not uncommon with academic types.
As the semester went on, the young man appeared to be getting nervous. I thought that I would be nervous too if I were taking a Harvard seminar in a language other than my native tongue.
One day, as always happened in these types of classes, someone asked the professor about the paper we were to write for our grade. There were never any exams in these classes. We wrote and then wrote some more. The question was always pretty much the same, “How long should our paper be?”
I knew John Emery Murdoch, the professor of the seminar. I took 5 or 6 classes with him. He was one of the most passionate people I have ever met. He loved his job. He was a scholar’s scholar. I could tell that there was no place he would rather be than in a classroom talking about the history and philosophy of science. His response to that question was always the same…
“Well, brevity is the soul of wit, but also, I am brief; therefore, I am obscure, so somewhere between 4 and 40 pages.”
After he said his standard line, he did something extraordinary, something totally unnecessary, and something exceptionally kind. He looked over at the German student and said, “You can write your paper in German.” I thought the young man was going to cry.
“Really?”
“Sure, I can read it. It is not a problem.”
“Thank you!”
If someone were to ever ask me if I have seen the weight of the world magically lift off a person’s shoulders, I would reply that I have indeed seen it. I will then tell them the story I just told you. I will tell them about the kindness shown to a German student by the late, great Professor John Emery Murdoch.
