Political science class-- 2:30 each Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Too tired from softball practice at 6:30 that morning, too many beers at JM’s Pub the night before. It was the afternoon slump. It was Snickers time. -- I still haven't given up the mid-afternoon, chocolate pick-me-up, nor have I forgotten the many life lessons learned in that 2:30 American Political Thought class taught by James Madison University political science professor Paul Cline. I wish I had met Dr. Cline as a freshman instead of a junior. I would have been a different kind of student. I am, though, a different kind of person for having known him at all. He quenched the thirst for knowledge and made it stronger at the same time. Professor Cline taught the kind of life lessons that get you more than a job. He taught the things that you remember forever--through way that he lived. 

The tall, West Virginia gentleman used to saunter into the classroom, greeting students by name. I loved the genteelness and southern country twang in his voice. Mark Twain once said, "Southerners talk music." He must have known Paul Cline in another life. 

Fall semester 1988, Professor Cline was embroiled in a heated campaign to keep the 27th district Virginia General Assembly seat that he had held since 1985. It was a hard-fought battle, as his opponent opted for a negative strategy. Election Day was the day before our Wednesday afternoon class. Battered and exhausted, Cline showed up for class after an agonizing defeat. It made me wonder: Do I really want to go into politics? What guts it took just to show up and not only stand tall, but to teach. He didn't vent frustrations or cut class short. He just taught. Little did he know that he taught us more just by showing up that day. Guts, pride, dedication to others--real life lessons. 

Once everyone was seated, a few of us stood clapping, and a standing ovation ensued. Dr. Cline deserved it, but he nervously ran his fingers through his hair--then waved us all to take our seats. 

"Gutsiest thing I ever saw, man," I said. And I meant it; I respected him. 

"I'll take that as youth-speak for a compliment," Cline said, blushing. 

He was a modest man, true to his word, as he modestly stood before us. I already knew and respected Paul Cline from the semester prior. Unfortunately he remembered me for other reasons. I had been brazen enough to ask him to let me take a scheduled test early, just to make it to an Aerosmith concert in North Carolina the same day. He agreed, if I would explain the political song "One," by another favorite group, Metallica. 

So, this, my final semester, I again stood before the professor I respected so much. Brazenly, again, yet more nervous this time, I rubbed my Nike-clad foot on the leg of his desk, staring at the floor. 

"What’s wrong, Shell, another Aerosmith show conflicting with a test?" he asked, half jokingly.Damn, I thought. Does the man have ESP? 

I could see the disappointment in his face, as he paused and then said, "Let’s see what we can do."The next class period, he made me a deal. He asked that I either complete a sealed, take home test or show up for class on Friday and take the regular test. Of course, I took my "take home" essay back to my room and opened it, half excited about going to the concert, and half ashamed that I had even asked for the favor. The take home test had only one essay question in Professor Cline’s handwriting. It read, "Tuition fees notwithstanding--write 1,000 words on what choosing a $20 music show over a scheduled class says about my teaching ability." Shame and nervousness turned into an ugly gnawing in my stomach. Cline had taught me that we learn from the choices that we make for ourselves. God, I had disappointed the one professor that I respected the most. 

Professor Cline was the first teacher I studied under who didn’t laugh out loud when I said that U2's Bono and Metallica's Jaymz Hetfield were the political pundits and ideologues of our generation--just as much as JFK was to earlier generations. My previous teachers considered it blasphemy to dare make such a comparison, but I insisted. Just because Bono and Hetfield slammed their fists in the air and on guitars instead of on podiums made them no less important than a politician. Dr. Cline embraced the idea and the political themes in U2 songs. Other teachers scoffed. Maybe they couldn’t accept political statements blaring from a stereo instead of a three-piece suit. Maybe they’d never heard a Bob Dylan record. My guess is that they just didn't have as open a mind as Dr. Cline. 

Paul Cline spoke deliberately. He rolled words around in his head, being sure to choose just the right ones. He always ran his fingers through his hair --a silvery, white tuft just over his brow. I was glad to know that he had at least one nervous habit. He was human. But he was one human that I didn’t want to disappoint again. 

I showed up at 2:30 on that Friday to take the regularly scheduled test. Dr. Cline greeted me at the door--not with words, but with an approving smile and a handshake. The disappointment was gone from his eyes, and it disappeared from the pit of my stomach. As I turned in my test, Professor Cline nodded. He was a man of few words. "No speeding tickets on the way to the concert," he said shuffling test papers. Another handshake, and I knew it was an affirmation of a choice he’d helped me make. 

And, of course, I went to the Aerosmith concert, without speeding--well, without getting a ticket. My friends and I showed up late and got to the arena just as the opening act was ending its set. We had to work five times as hard to get up front to the mosh pit--but hey, just showing up was half the battle. 

Author's Biography

With mosh pit scars to prove it, Hite's current totals are 38 Metallica and 46 Aerosmith concerts. She spends her non-concert hours as assistant editor of "Montpelier," the magazine of James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia. 

Hite has written for higher education publications for 11 years and previously served as a managing editor and associate director of college relations at Mary Baldwin College in Staunton, Virginia. 

She served as vice mayor and council member (10 years) for the Town of Craigsville, Virginia, and has also volunteered for the town's fire and rescue agencies.

E-mail Michelle at martinmh@jmu.edu

***************************************************

Professor Emeritus Paul Cline taught political science from 1961 to 1997 and served in the Virginia General Assembly, representing Harrisonburg and Rockingham County, Virginia. Currently, he lives in Venice, Fla., and enjoys bicycling, softball and writing.

Read or write reviews on this essay!

We are still working on the "read reviews" section. We need your input!

Read or write reviews on this site!

We'd like to know from our readers if they enjoyed this issue of Seven Seas! Do you have praises or complaints? Suggestions or ideas? Would you like to read other people's reviews? Please check out our Site Reviews Page

Get notified!

Would you like to get notified as soon as new Seven Seas issues are published on the Web?
Get notified!

Tell a friend!

Do you enjoy the Seven Seas site? 
Please tell a friend to stop by!
Tell a friend!

Go back to the table of contents
 of the current issue.

You just read essay # 6.  Read essay #

1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14