At Heliotrope University during the 1980’s there was a visiting Chinese professor in the English department named Jing Feng. Professor Feng had a Ph.D. from the University of Cambridge, and along with it an international reputation in mythology and legend. He was invited to deliver papers and participate in panel discussions all over the world. He was truly an expert in myth.

Professor Feng was quickly recognized by colleagues and students for his politeness and his kindness. He was never heard to criticize an administrator or make snide remarks about his colleagues behind their backs as so many professors do. Contrary to what one might expect, college professors can be awfully mean to each other at times. But not Professor Feng; he never lost his temper in heated faculty meetings when others would be at the point of blows and harsh, angry language. His colleagues could disagree with him, and he would not take it as a personal attack. He was both a gentleman and a gentle man who was the epitome of what collegiality in higher education should be.

Similarly, his students appreciated his kindness and gentle ways. If an election had been conducted at Heliotrope to name the kindest professor in the department, Professor Feng would have received 90 percent of the vote. He always treated his students with the utmost respect and would do whatever he could to help a struggling student.

Despite these admirable qualities, Professor Feng had a serious handicap. His eyesight was so poor that he had to wear glasses with lenses as thick as the bottom of a Coca Cola bottle. He just could not see very well.

His home was close to the university farm. The story is told that one foggy morning the sheep had gotten out of their pasture and were grazing on his lawn. Professor Feng phoned campus security and reported there were wolves in his yard. Now as an expert in myth, Professor Feng knew the important difference between sheep and wolves. But he just could not see well enough to make the visual distinction.

The classic story about Professor Feng came from a graduate class he was teaching that met once a week. On the first meeting, he went through the syllabus carefully, explaining the important points and answering questions. Then he told the class that he needed to remember to bring a screen next week because he had some slides to show.

A young woman in the front row raised her hand and said, “Professor Feng, there’s a screen on the wall behind you.” And, indeed, it was a screen.

Professor Feng turned halfway around and glanced at the wall; then he turned back to the student, shook his head, and said, “Is map.”

Trying to be helpful, the student said, “No, Professor Feng, that’s not a map. It’s a screen.”
Professor Feng glanced again at the wall and said, “Is map.”

Still trying to be helpful because often the third time is a charm, the student said, “But, Professor Feng, that’s a screen on the wall. It’s a screen.”

This time Professor Feng went over to the wall, looked up, folded his hands, and studied the wall for several moments. Then he turned to the student and said, “No, is map, is map.”

The student gave up. After all, there’s only so much one can do.

The next week the students were all in their seats awaiting the arrival of Professor Feng. He appeared followed by his wife, a highly excitable woman, who was half-dragging and half-carrying a screen. She reached the middle of the room, looked up, and saw the screen on the wall, and she lost her temper. At the top of her voice, she read the riot act at her husband in Chinese while he stood there very calmly smiling and not saying a word while she chastised him thoroughly.

The students could not understand a word of what she said, but they had a good idea of what she meant. They hunkered down in their seats and tried their best to disappear. Even students who would never even think of skipping class wished they had skipped on this night. They did not want to witness this ignominious spectacle.

Her tirade finished, the good Mrs. Feng shook her head in disgust, turned on her heel and left the room, half-dragging and half-carrying the screen.

Professor Feng then did the one and only thing he could do to save the day. He simply affirmed his own identity, whose essential core values were politeness and kindness. He went up to the student who had tried to tell him about the screen. Bowing and smiling and with folded hands as if in humble prayer, he said to the student, “Very sorry, was screen.”