So it is nothing short of a blessing to have been introduced to the discipline otherwise known as the Dismal Science by Dr. John Mason. Why his email address read "Dancer" in the middle I´ll never know.
Dr. Mason passed away earlier this year. No, it didn´t come as a surprise, but I still bawled when my friend, who lives near our alma mater, emailed to say he’d left us forever.
In Principles of Microeconomics he would suggest we imagine ourselves in the factories of Guangzhou and not too easily dismiss sweatshops for the financial prospect and independence they offered to otherwise systematically deprived people groups. Whether I believed it or not is beside the point. More importantly, Dr. Mason was constantly prodding us to consider the other half of the story.
As I was enrolled in an inter-disciplinary course, I didn´t have classes with him every semester. But he didn´t forget me, even if I was far from the brightest kid in class—the types whose names are etched on the hallways and in the memories of faculties.
A few months after the course was over, he emailed to say he´d dropped something in the mailroom for me. I made my way after lunch and found four different articles stuffed into my five-inch long cubby. On top there was a post-it that read, "In case you missed any of these—found them in the New York Times". Instead of forwarding me links like the other younger professors, Dr. Mason would carefully cut out and paper clip together any article he found on Nepal for his only student from the country.
As Nepal´s situation spiraled and I meandered through various classes in other departments he would continue to email his old student. Once he asked me to stop by his office and told me that he´d been praying for me. It was the spring of 2006 and I was pleasantly surprised that he too had been following Jana Andolan II. When he found that I´d been following and commenting on various blogs and news sites he suggested I choose my words wisely and “be careful.”
As I thanked him for his concern and walked out the door, he said his house would always be open if I needed a break from the humdrum campus life or was homesick during Nepal’s turbulent days.
I write this for the great professors, colleagues and people we run into, the simple but extraordinary people.
Naya Nepal came and went even as Dr. Mason was busy inviting us international students, the members of the Economics and Business Club and anyone else he thought would appreciate an "off-campus" meal, over to his house for Thanksgiving dinners. We got to know his wife and about his children scattered across the continent.
By the time I had signed up for Intermediate Microeconomics his quickly deteriorating health was an open secret. Gentle as ever but not nearly as energetic. We learned it was Parkinson´s. As he began to fall asleep in the middle of the class and grew much too frail to hold discussions, we realized that after some 30 years of teaching we were privileged to be sitting in the very last class he would ever teach.
Dr. Mason was not exactly my friend; it´s not like I ran over to him about my break ups or spring break plans. But, Dr. Mason was a wonderful man, a Christian Economist who didn´t just preach, but also practiced. Dr. Mason was a passionate economist who loved the principles, the theories and the effort it took to make sense of this unjust and chaotic world.
When I was a freshman, he´d assigned us the most obscure first assignment. We were to write about the most obvious supply-demand curve but also discuss things that could not be graphed. I hesitantly handed in my 500 words on love, how it could never be measured. As we strained to hear one of his last lectures two years later he would, with great delight, display his wife´s lipstick mark on the napkin he used to dab his lips with after swallowing a small tube of pills. He´d wink and say, "Now, I´m never going to run out of this."
I write this for the great professors, colleagues and people we run into, the simple but extraordinary people. It´s an honor to be under the tutelage of some of the brightest minds and the kindest hearts. Teachers, lecturers, professors and mentors have a profound impact on the impressionable minds of students. Such a profession, one that shapes the values and opinions of a future generation, is not a small one and hence cannot be just a jagir. It’s a calling and one not to be taken lightly.
Of course today isn’t Teacher’s Day in Nepal or anywhere in the world but teachers worth celebrating don’t need one specified day to be thanked for taking up a challenge such as the one they have.
sradda.thapa@gmail.com
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