As I'm sure I've mentioned before, Erik's lessons didn't stop when the class period was over. He would check in with us off and on during the week, even when we weren't taking one of his classes that quarter.
I remember times when I'd be walking past his office and he'd call me in to chat. In addition to seeing how we were managing our classes and workload and thesis films, Erik would also take these small opportunities to teach his students outside of the classroom. I was in his office one day, just to check in. Erik quickly opened a web browser, called up a video and showed me the trailer for the upcoming feature film James and the Giant Peach. He then asked me what I noticed. I immediately picked up on what he was trying to show me: within every shot, the character's action would lead your eyes, your attention, to the starting point of the action in the next scene. Erik smiled, I assume confident that the lessons from my classes were sinking in. He pointed out a couple other things about movie trailers. And then the lesson ended and I was off to my next class.
Erik's lesson was made all the more timely when during the following year, Marla taught a stop-motion animation class. Halfway during the quarter, she brought in stop-mo animator Tom Brierton from Chicago to talk about his career and the industry. Tom showed up with a number of ball-and-socket "skeletons" from when he worked on James and the Giant Peach and a video of clips from the scenes he animated.
This month, I was invited to return to Central Michigan University and continue teaching a class in the animation department. As I continue to interact with students, these little lessons and examples from Erik, Marla, Jack, Skip and Stephanie keep coming to mind. Sometimes, I cringe when I look at a challenging student of mine and feel sheepish over my college years--wondering if that's how my behavior looked to them. Then I remember how they all handled these energetic, overeager students who were trying to make these little films about these stories that were deeply personal and deeply emotional--to us anyways. But with each class I teach, I've learned to welcome these memories. Thinking back about my professors, the grace and the patience they displayed, those memories are constant reminders of the kind of teacher that I want to be for my students.
