surprised by joy

My life has been filled with moments of happiness, moments for which I would forestall the promise of heaven. I have sat with friends, and laughed hard, almost recklessly, until I was light-headed and desperate for air. I have stood on mountain peaks, awestruck at God’s power and goodness to us. I have felt summer sunlight filter through a bower of trees, sunlight as warm and delicious as honey. Even among these exceptional moments, this morning was singularly wonderful, as unexpected and rare and indescribable as true love. Wonderful things, and even miraculous, have happened to me before, but nothing like this… nothing even approximates to the moment when I found my profile on ratemyprofessors.com.

I had never heard of ratemyprofessors.com until this morning when I was reading Slate.com, which is currently running a series of articles on Universities. This morning, Slate ran a fluff piece on what makes a good university professor, making frequent reference to ratemyprofessor.com. I felt it was important, you know, in terms of my work as a graduate student, to investigate the rankings of some professors I know in the philosophy department at the U of A. My own impressions accorded fairly accurately with those expressed on the website – I agreed when one professor was described as pretentious and arrogant, and again when another was characterized as “interesting and intelligent.” And then I saw my own name.

The force of the story is intensified if you know (as I do) that I have never taught a class at the University of Alberta, or for that matter, at any academic institution. (I once gave a lecture at G-Mac, but only the most generous could consider that an “academic institution.”) I should not be listed among the philosophy professors at the University of Alberta. But there I was. I thought for a moment that I might be setting myself up for another disappointment, like the time that I thought I wrote the song “In Moments like These” because my name was given authorial credit at the bottom of the overhead. Turns out I didn’t write it; it was another man with the same name. That experience and the attendant caution it provided saved me from embarrassment (and possible death) many years later when I read about my exploits as a world famous rock climber. In that case also it turned out that the rock climber was not I, but another man with the same name.

But the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that it really was me. My attendance at the university has been sporadic, but not so spotty that a professor with a name identical to mine would have escaped my attention. With trembling fingers, I clicked on my name.

An angel sang to me. The heavens rang with his voice. He sang, “This guy is the bomb! If you get the chance to learn anything from this guy, do it. Pure genius. I give him 8 years before his [sic] world renowned.” And then another voice rang out, singing, “I completely agree. Best teacher I’ve encountered in my 5 years at university. I give him a big thumbs up. On the downside, his class was tough. Probably because this guy’s so smart.” Those were the only two comments, which was disappointing, but not surprising, seeing as I have never taught a class ever (*except once at G-Mac which does not count). Both commenters granted me the coveted ‘red chilli pepper’, indicating that I am ‘hot.’ I mention the chilli pepper only because it was the best thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life.

I honestly have no idea how this happened. I only know that I did not post these comments myself. Obviously, someone did this as a joke, but what subtlety! They did not tell me to check the website – I chanced upon this without any guidance. This situation is as baffling and wonderful as the time I came out after church to find that someone had left a box of donuts on the roof of my car. It was not until almost six months later that the mysterious ‘donut bomber’ revealed his identity (shout-out to D-Heng; thanks for the donuts). Will anyone ever step forward and claim responsibility for the unwarranted praise? Only time will tell. Until then, come, my children, come sup at the table of my bountiful genius. And bring a doggy bag, for there is sure to be excess, and you can save some for lunch tomorrow. You might scoff at this suggestion; you might think you can continue to ignore my teaching without loss; on ratemyprofessors.com, someone said, “If you get the chance to learn anything from this guy, do it.” I think it is good advice.