When I was a college student back in the late nineties, I had the good fortune to score a job in my college library. The woman who hired me happened to be my first boss and we’ve stayed in touch over the years. Sometimes Terri and I even venture out of the virtual world and into a restaurant as we did last night.

College was good for me in many ways. It brought me out of my shell, exposing me to people who are different than me or who think differently than me. This is important for anyone who grows up surrounded by people who all look the same, who sound the same and who all have shared interests and world views. After all, variety is the spice of life.

Plus, I had license to learn about topics that my public school education hadn’t covered. I took some psychology, sociology and even an anthropology class along with my english and history classes. I also discovered an appreciation for art history thanks to one particular educator who had a knack for breathing life into primitive cave paintings, grand cathedrals and obscure statues that one may never encounter independently.

Students today are encouraged to train their focus on the classes that will aid in their future job. This seems so short sighted because there’s more to life than work and through learning we become better rounded, more productive members of society. Those art history classes have benefited me in more ways than I can count.

The waitress had just removed my plate when the door swung open and my former Art History Professor Dr. Ken Breidenbaugh came into view. He and Terri had worked together for many years so those two had some catching up to do. I’m not sure he remembered me but he was the picture of manners and interested in what I’m doing these days. 

Dr. Breidenbaugh was a force to be reckoned with in the classroom. He wove together technical art criticism with stories of the artists, world history, local history and relevant topics that were on his mind. While I benefited from his classroom instruction, I was fortunate to occasionally encounter Dr. Breidenbaugh at work as well. He often reserved giant art history books for his students to use as reference and would stop at the circulation desk for his own business as well. I always looked forward to his visits. 

He encouraged his students to travel and explore. He encouraged us to study what is familiar and draw lines between the contemporary world and times past. 

Growing up in a rural area, there wasn’t a lot of exposure to art and live performance during my school years. Dr. Breidenbaugh recognized that many of his students hadn’t traveled, hadn’t seen live performance or classic architecture and needed a nudge to go see what exists outside the small bubbles that most of us occupy. He encouraged us to look beyond the classes we needed for our jobs and to embrace things that would simply bring us joy, knowledge and excitement about the world. 

Life is more than work, he said.

He encouraged his students to seek out art and architecture where we could. He’s the reason I wanted to visit Frank Lloyd Wright’s most famous home, Fallingwater, in Pennsylvania. He’s the reason I get excited at the sight of a church spire and why I can hardly wait to see what’s around the next bend in an art museum.

My life is richer and more beautiful because of the tools he gave me for viewing the world and for instilling in me a desire to go out and see as much as I can.

I wish I had the presence of mind to say all of that to Dr. Breidenbaugh last night. Instead, I squeaked out something about thinking of him every time I visit a museum. That statement is true but it represents just a fraction of what I carry with me from his teaching. 

I hope that he got the gist and understands what it meant to learn from him. 

Is there an educator who made a difference in your life? If you’re lucky, there were a few. Tell them, if you get a chance.