By Taylor Nigrelli
Digital Media Strategist
When news of Dr. Roderick Hughes’ death spread through social media this week, I was struck by the variety of ways he seemed to have touched lives. Some lauded his kindness, others his humor, others still his unique teaching style.
To me, it was both his near-constant questioning of students’ beliefs and his incredible classroom presence. Perhaps it was because both were so memorable or perhaps it’s because both have been so rare in my college experience.
Hughes didn’t just teach his students, he dug into the way they processed information and developed beliefs. It wasn’t enough to just learn a bunch of facts, he wanted his students to understand why they were learning whatever subject had been assigned. In a time when professors are often distant intellectuals reading off a PowerPoint, not attempting to connect in any way, Hughes stood out.
I took Hughes’ Good Life class my sophomore year and immediately fell in love with his style of teaching. Since the class dealt with a great deal of philosophy, opportunities arose for him to question students on their personal beliefs. This ranged from a belief in God to the immorality of stealing. He didn’t look for the student in question to believe what he believed, just to be able to defend the beliefs he or she held. One particularly heated debate with a student on the morality of prostitution ended with him making one of the funniest jokes I’ve ever heard. It is, regrettably, not fit for print.
By the time I entered Hughes’ class, his health had deteriorated to the point where he could barely stand. He taught his last semester in a wheelchair. But he had such a presence. He wasn’t loud, bombastic or dramatic, yet he dominated the room. His failing health did nothing to dull his razor-sharp wit. Sometimes a student would challenge a theory or idea he put forth, but rarely if ever did that student come away from the discussion appearing correct.
While many of my friends lamented the boring and dry nature of their Good Life classes, I couldn’t have enjoyed mine more. Instead of droning on about ethics and morality, Hughes made the topics interesting by fooling the class into thinking he had done morally reprehensible things and seeing how everyone responded. Once, while the class was discussing ethics, he told everyone the walls of his house were lined with $11 million dollars that he had stolen over the years. Some people actually believed him and hilarity ensued.
Hughes was so unlike many of the other professors I’ve had in the way he engaged and challenged students. He wasn’t content to let a book or PowerPoint presentation teach his students. He didn’t challenge his students by assigning more work or by being vague in his instructions. He did so by creating a fun and open environment where students were more apt to reconsider their beliefs or at least learn how to defend them.
This is what I believe is sorely missing at St. Bonaventure. Far too many times over the past four years I’ve found myself sitting in a classroom while a professor reads off a PowerPoint, wondering why I even bothered showing up to class in the first place. I’ve spent so many class periods on Twitter or reading internet articles because I could just as easily learn what the teacher is saying in the book or in a cram session at the end of the semester.
But it was never like that with Hughes. It wasn’t about getting a good grade at the end of the semester. It was about becoming a more intelligent and thoughtful person.
I can honestly say I’m better off for having taken two classes with Hughes. I know many others can say that too. His presence at St. Bonaventure will certainly be missed.
Taylor Nigrelli is the Digital Media Strategist for The Bona Venture. His email is nigreltn11@bonaventure.edu
