Dr. A/B Trant

When I was in college I was a biology major but had a double minor: theology and philosophy. I was an over-thinker from birth---so when got to college and chose to think about thinking as a course of study, it amplified the effect.

One of my favorite philosophy professors was Dr. Ed Trant. His students called him A/B Trant because even with the minimum of work it wasn’t difficult to get a B, and if you put a reasonable amount of extra effort in, he would give you an A. I took several of his courses-- not because of his grading policies, but because he was a great teacher, and he opened up my mind to new and thought-provoking ideas. And like Father Borzaga, he too was irreverent. I love irreverence.  I think irreverence is the consequence of extreme overthinking---irreverence is the endpoint of successive thought. It’s the point when reason is so exhausted it becomes absurd.

A very very conservative Catholic boy sat in the front of one of Dr. Trant’s classes, and this student was offended by virtually every word that came from Dr. Trant’s mouth. And this student, whose name I can no longer recall, but whose face I can still see in my mind’s eye, was also humorless. And he felt the need at every point in any discussion to contradict everything anyone would say—even if it was a list of facts. And Dr. Trant was patient with the student—even though the student was beyond annoying to him and all of my classmates. This was the kid who the boys from the back of the room would “pretend sneeze” while uttering the word “douche.” He was the kid who was always barely on time to class and would wave a hello greeting just before he sat down at his desk as if anyone was happy to see that he remembered to show up.

One day, the class discussion meandered to the topic of abortion. So you can only imagine how large the soapbox was that this kid was about to get on when he saw the direction of the discussion. This kid was getting ready to take his single man march, banners of dead babies and all, down the aisle of the classroom. And that’s when Dr. Trant snapped just a little tiny bit. And Dr. Trant turned to him in all seriousness and said—You know , I believe it’s never too late for an abortion—even post birth.  I thought was going to die. And it was funnier still because this student was clueless as to what he meant-- he remained silent—and puzzled. But I understood precisely what the professor meant—and Dr. Trant knew that I knew—and so he turned to me and asked Miss Manello, do you agree?   And not that I felt any pressure to agree with him simply because he was my teacher—I  too was not fond of this kid—and I too wished that his mother had gotten an abortion during her pregnancy with him either prior to or post birth. So with vigor I simply said Absolutely Dr. Trant.

I’d like to say that after that remark the kid ceased annoying the professor and the class but that did not happen. This kid never did curb his commentary.  He was oblivious to everything but his own thoughts. And when the kid would pull out his soapbox, Dr. Trant would gaze over at me and wink---he knew I knew what he was thinking. And knowing that Dr. Trant knew that I knew what he was thinking made my classmates's litanies more bearable.

And it probably didn’t matter that I did all the extra work necessary to get an A in Dr. Trant’s class—he probably would have given it to me anyway.  Yet I always wondered what grade that kid got—teachers hold all the power and can spin any essay test grade into an A or a D at whim—it’s the beauty of the essay---it’s qualitative. I would like to think Dr. Trant gave him a C—defying his A/B reputation---because bad behavior should never be rewarded . But I will never that know for sure---and it is better that way anyway---in Karenland, if I think he got a C, then he did—kinda like that Schrödinger cat box theory my children were so fond of in high school