What Was Your Most Memorable College Class?

One of my favorite classes was a statistical development course taught by Dr. William Luker ’52. He was perceptive, and if he detected any blank looks in class, he would stop and approach the concept from a different angle. He encouraged notetaking because he gave open-book, open-note exams. He wrote all the procedures out on the chalkboard, waited until it was copied, and then he’d erase and start writing more. But his exams weren’t “easy A’s.” He scheduled them during three-hour blocks in the evenings, and believe me, we needed every one of those 180 minutes. Even though it was open-book and open-note, you had to be familiar with the concepts because the length of the exams meant you didn’t have much time to look things up. After three hours, I would be mentally drained, but I flourished under Dr. Luker’s tutelage and aced his course. I had him again for Business Cycles and Business Measurements and aced that course too.  

In fall 1977, I took Business Law, a course led by Arthur Stewart, otherwise known as “Judge.” He reminded me of comedian and actor W.C. Fields in the way he spoke and his mannerisms, and his expressions were the best. If something was going to happen in a hurry, he would say “at the drop of a chapeau.” I am fairly certain he also liked to bet on football, but this was in the days long before the internet. It was not unusual for him to dismiss class early on a Friday, only to have anyone willing stick around and talk football with him—the Aggies, Houston Oilers and Dallas Cowboys in particular. We’d talk about who was injured, who wasn’t, who would be starting and who was not, as well as what we thought about this betting line or that line. Why he’d listen to us I’ll never know. Good times! 

In graduate school, while I was studying for a master’s degree in mechanical engineering, I had Dr. Thomas Kozik, a tall man with a big voice who taught a course on shell theory for which there were no English texts. So, he studied Russian texts on the subject and put it all on the blackboard from his memory. A fellow student, a Ph.D. candidate from the University of Southwestern Louisiana, got me to go over each lecture with him. This cemented the material for each of us. I liked Dr. Kozik so much that I got him to be my thesis advisor. 

My two favorite professors were Professor Drahm Jones ’40 and Dr. Ned Walton ’63. Without them, I probably wouldn’t have graduated. I left school at the end of my junior year in 1973 intending to take a semester break, but it lasted five years. When my wife told me that I wasn’t going to be happy until I graduated, we sold our house and moved to College Station in 1978. Coincidentally, Professor Jones, who had been my faculty advisor in 1970, was again designated as my advisor when I returned. The civil engineering curriculum had changed over the years, but he convinced Dr. Walton that I could remain on my original degree plan. I managed to graduate in 1979, so I’m able to tell everyone that I squeezed in a four-year degree plan in just nine years! 

Dr. Howard Furr ’48 was the best professor that I had an opportunity to know and appreciate. He taught a prestressed concrete class in the civil engineering department.  

I took a challenging world history class taught by the feared Dr. Lloyd Taylor that covered the Middle Ages in detail. Dr. Taylor’s outstanding teaching trait was his ability to lecture from memory only—no notes! He also never graded on the curve and demanded error-free essays. He only gave four essay exams the entire semester, and they had to be completed in less than one hour.  

Well, on the final test, I decided to be creative. I answered the questions as if I were one of England’s most famous Middle Age warriors—Sir Simon de Montfort. Some of my language was archaic; however, it was original and mostly free of grammatical errors. Frankly, it was fun to write!  

Dr. Taylor seemed pleased with my effort. Uncharacteristically, he commented favorably on my approach to the exam and suggested that I pursue a course in creative writing. His suggestion was fulfilled when I became an information officer in the U.S. Army.

I took an organic chemistry course taught by Dr. Sherrel Smith, easily the most memorable professor I had. He was kind and had employed me for a summer job after my sophomore year that I held until my graduation. I learned about conducting experiments in addition to the groundwork that went into organizing a teaching lab for students. He would also invite me to participate in Thanksgiving dinner with his family, and it added to the fun. His wife, Dr. Elaine Smith, had actually been my high school biology teacher, and they continued to support my ongoing scientific and academic pursuits throughout my time in surgical training and as I began to specialize in global cardiothoracic surgery in children and adults. 

Dr. Allan Ashcraft ’49 taught several memorable history classes. The man was a walking encyclopedia. And he was funny! My favorite memory is from one of his final exams. He gave us three essay prompts to choose from. I chose: “If you could fight the Spanish-American War using any general(s) from the 17th century through the early 20th century, who would you pick and why?” I started making stuff up and applying current military theory and dang near filled my entire blue book—and I got an A. That man was a treasure. 

During a newspaper journalism course led by Dr. Don Sneed in 1984, I was interested in writing an article for The Battalion about NASA’s International Space Station, but I didn’t have a car or money to travel to Houston. He helped me apply for a $75 grant so I could rent a car and a hotel room, drive to Houston and interview several NASA engineers. The resulting newspaper article not only ran in The Battalion but also garnered a state journalism award. Unbeknownst to me, Professor Sneed sent a typewritten letter to my parents that complimented their parenting skills in fostering a good work ethic. My dad proudly photocopied the letter and gave it to his t-sip boss, eager to brag about his Aggie daughter.  

Chemistry 101! It still gives me the shakes to say it. I flunked four times and got an invitation to sit out a semester to “reflect.” My advisor, Dr. R.C. Potts ’45, the associate dean of agriculture and my father away from home, finally handed me a course catalog and said, “Richard, pick any science course in here, and if you can make a C or better, I’ll substitute it for Chem 101.” My dad was stationed in Hawaii when I was a kid, and I learned about volcanoes, so I picked geology. I made a B+. I never would’ve crossed the finish line if not for Dr. Potts. We exchanged Christmas cards until his passing. He was one of the best.  

The most memorable class I took was Intro to Public Speaking, which was a required class for my meteorology major. I can’t even remember the professor’s name, but the impact on me was profound. Prior to this class, I couldn’t speak in public. After this class, public speaking was second nature. He gave me the confidence to advance in my career. 

As a political science major, I took a class taught by Jack Woods who had a very interesting theory on natural law. On the first day, he asked a thought-provoking question to see who would jump at an answer, probably so that he could identify his problem student. Well, I took the bait, and he quickly put down my answer using the Socratic method. However, I went on to enjoy his teaching and found his theories very interesting. Later, when Davis-Gary Hall had our annual barbecue, he was taking Lt. Gov. Ben Barnes around for introductions. When he came to me, I was introduced as a class revolutionary! It was like a slap to my ego, as I didn’t see myself as such. But I guess I did have some different ideas, as did many of the students from the ’60s. I’ve always admired his class as one of the hallmarks of my college education.  

The most impactful course I had while attending Mays Business School was Dr. Duane Ireland’s strategic management course. It brought together all the concepts we’d learned throughout the program into a synthesized framework. I also applied my learnings to a venture I was working on at the same time, AltQuest Group, and even wrote my final paper on the startup. 

During summer 1978, I enrolled in thermodynamics under Dr. Hubert Thorton with the objective of graduating in August. Having previously taken the course without success and dropping it, I was determined to grasp the concepts this time around. Fortunately, everything fell into place during this term. As the semester drew to a close, a group of us were engaged in problem-solving during a lab session. The thermodynamics textbook provided answers to problems in a separate problem book. However, there was one particular problem that eluded us despite numerous attempts; we consistently arrived at an incorrect answer. 

Seeking clarity, I approached Dr. Thorton for assistance. He reviewed the problem using his slide rule and obtained the correct answer as listed in the problem book. We replicated the calculations on our calculators, which back then were only permissible after reaching junior year. Despite repeated efforts, our results continued to diverge from the problem book’s solution. Handing my calculator to Dr. Thorton, I requested he solve it using the device. Surprisingly, his result did not align with the problem book’s solution either. 

Upon analyzing the discrepancy between the slide rule and calculator outcomes, we identified the source of the error: The calculator utilized four significant digits, whereas the slide rule operated with only two. By adjusting the calculator settings to reflect two significant digits, we successfully matched the textbook answer. Dr. Thorton noted, “The answers in the problem book were all derived using a slide rule.” 

That summer, I achieved an A in thermodynamics and discovered a genuine interest in the subject. Over the following 46-plus years in the oil and gas industry, I frequently applied thermodynamic principles and laws. Reflecting on the advancements in calculators and computers over the years, it is remarkable to consider how engineers, utilizing slide rules with merely two significant digits, managed to send astronauts to the moon and safely return them, particularly where the minutest error could have been catastrophic. Indeed, the outcome of Apollo 13 underscores the profound impact of precision in engineering!