Tributes to a colleague most often appear posthumously. Typically, they emphasize the individual’s publications, departmental contributions, or influence on doctoral advisees. Rarely mentioned, however, is the impact on undergraduates.
We should do more to recognize those who have excelled in teaching, and I want to salute a paragon who is about to celebrate his 90th birthday. Generations of his students gathered last year for a luncheon on the occasion of his retirement, and excerpts from interviews conducted there are featured in a movie about him now available online at Bronx Socrates.
His name is Robert Gurland, and for nearly six decades he taught philosophy to thousands of students at New York University. You have probably not heard of him because, while legendary on campus, he was largely unknown outside its gates.
During my many years in academia, I have known a few faculty who offered a philosophy course that regularly attracted a huge number of registrants. In nearly every case, though, the subject had special appeal, for instance, happiness, justice, or death and dying. Had the same professors taught less immediately compelling topics such as logic, medieval philosophy, or pragmatism, the enrollment would have been far smaller. The exception to this generalization is Bob Gurland, whose classes, regardless of subject matter, invariably filled the largest lecture halls at NYU. As it happens, logic, medieval philosophy, and pragmatism were all in his vast repertoire, as was virtually every course in the curriculum. Indeed, whatever subject he announced, the class was promptly oversubscribed.
Some professors enhance their enrollment by appealing to students who have a particular background or interest. Not so Bob Gurland. Regardless of gender, race, ethnicity, talent, or preparation, students flocked to his offerings, and he reciprocated their passion by knowing the name of everyone in every class and learning something about each.
Whereas lecturers in large courses almost always employ assistants, Bob Gurland never requested any and would have rejected them if offered. He personally graded, with numerous detailed comments, every one of hundreds of papers, thereby enabling him to communicate individually with each of his students.
In light of some colleagues’ skepticism about the source of his popularity, Bob welcomed anyone who wished to observe his classes, even without prior notice. He also allowed colleagues to review the exams he gave, the answer booklets his students submitted, and the grades he awarded (which were not especially generous). The vast majority of those who watched him teach or scrutinized the written record came away impressed.
Why was he so successful? Admittedly, Bob has a most engaging personality and a wonderful sense of humor that pokes fun equally at himself and others. He also draws on his singular background which includes stints as a minor league baseball player, a professional trumpeter in leading jazz bands, and extensive experience teaching mathematics and science in elementary school, junior high school, high school, and college.
In class, his approach might have appeared improvisatory, but when I once asked him how he prepared to teach, he opened his battered briefcase and held up stacks of yellow pads filled with writing. He explained that these were his lectures, and although he never looked at them during his classes, he knew exactly what material he was going to cover and how it would be presented. Even his vivid examples were written down. In short, his seemingly freewheeling style was carefully planned.
He won teaching awards at a variety of institutions, but such honors meant far less to him than the enthusiastic response of his students. They included many of the most accomplished undergraduates, several of whom were influenced by him to become highly successful professors of philosophy. Occasionally, he taught at West Point. There he was such a hit with the cadets that he was offered a permanent position but turned it down to remain at NYU.
Although my initial relationship with Bob was as his dissertation advisor, we subsequently became dear friends, and over the years I have cherished the hours we have spent together. They always leave me with the same joy in life that he evoked in his students.
Understandably, some professors were rather perturbed when they contrasted their small class sizes with his mammoth ones. Yet they recognized that without him registration in the department would have plummeted because he taught a massive percentage of all the students taking philosophy. Unlike some in the department who sought to minimize or disparage his success, I found Bob’s extraordinary effect on students to be not merely impressive but exhilarating. Indeed, I consider myself fortunate to have witnessed his pedagogic magic.
In sum, what can we learn from Bob Gurland’s extraordinary success? Trying to imitate his singular personality in the classroom would be foolish. We can, however, care deeply about the success of our students and exert the time and effort to do all within our power to help them. Such concern may on occasion call for sacrificing our convenience for the benefit of those we are supposed to be guiding, but the willingness to do so is the hallmark of teachers like Bob Gurland who are devoted to the highest ideals of our profession.
Steven M. Cahn
Steven M. Cahn is Professor Emeritus of Philosophy at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. The most recent books he has authored are Religion Within Reason (Columbia University Press, 2017); Teaching Philosophy: A Guide (Routledge, 2018); Inside Academia: Professors, Politics, and Policies (Rutgers University Press, 2019); The Road Traveled and Other Essays (Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2019); Philosophical Adventures (Broadview Press, 2019); A Philosopher’s Journey: Essays from Six Decades (Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2020), and Navigating Academic Life (Routledge, 2021).
