Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...

I had so many wonderful teachers throughout my years of schooling, which I’m sure had a lot to do with becoming a teacher myself. But if I had to name my all-time favorite, it would definitely be Dr. Sam Hornsby.

Dr. Hornsby passed away last week at the age of 82. Numerous former LaGrange College students are posting tributes and remembrances on Facebook. He was one of those professors who became popular with the masses, not just the English majors. Many had him as an instructor for required classes, and some non-majors even signed up for upper-level courses just for the pleasure of sitting in his classroom again.

He literally changed the course of my life.  As a LaGrange College freshman, I was undecided on my major, toying with options including Sociology, Theatre, and Elementary Education. I had earned credits for English 101 and 102 through a joint enrollment program while in high school, so the only core English course I had to take was Intro to English Literature, which I took with Dr. Hornsby. 

I loved the class. One day Dr. Hornsby asked me to step into his office as I left the classroom. He sat me down and told me that since I was obviously gifted in Language Arts, he wanted me to consider becoming an English major. He handed me a booklet about possible career paths for English majors that didn’t include teaching if I wasn’t interested in that. He talked me into signing up for his major-level class the following quarter just to see if I liked it.

He had me, because I delighted in every course I took with him, which meant every one that I could fit into my schedule. And I did become a high school teacher, which was absolutely the right path for me. 

Dr. Hornsby was witty and droll, passionate and compassionate. It was great fun to sit around a big table with him and only six or seven other English majors and get nerdy-excited about Chaucer or Shakespeare or Milton or even the history of our language. Because of his classes, I can still recite the Lord’s Prayer in Old English and the opening lines of The Canterbury Tales in Middle English. Great party tricks, I know.

Many specific memories stand out.  Once he told a student that she must not miss another of those early morning classes we were enduring that quarter if she wished to pass the class. Alas, one morning she wasn’t there. He took note and left for his office. Returning, he sat at his place at the head of the table, legs crossed, hands folded on his book, staring unsmilingly face forward behind his glasses and ubiquitous bow tie, and said not a word until she ran in breathlessly ten minutes later. Then he opened his book and said, “Thank you for joining us, Miss —. Let us begin.”  That telephone call was made out of concern.

Another time, in a larger class, we had turned our little desks around to face the rear of the room, just to be cute. Upon entering, he took his book from the lectern at the front, walked to the back, and started lecturing, with no acknowledgement of our hijinks. Another time he wore a paper bag with eye and mouth holes over his head to teach. I wish I could remember the context!

He could be exacting in the classroom, sometimes warning us that he would hate to see us reduced to a “quivering mass of jelly” if we invoked the wrath of a higher power. But more memorable are his warmth, caring, encouragement and influence. RIP Dr. Hornsby. I hope you are discussing literature with the greats.