Inspiration.

Upon receiving the sad news of the death of one of my favorite and most inspiring professors at UNC, George Rabinowitz, I took a while to reflect on what I'd learned from one of the greatest teachers, scholars and individuals I've ever had the honor of knowing. After much contemplation and getting the urge to write my myriad of thoughts down somewhere, I can truly say that, despite being just another number in a 250+ person lecture hall, my future most likely began in the back row of George's introductory course to American government during my first year at Carolina.

My freshman year began like most others', full of schedule tweaking, juggling studying and socializing, and becoming accustomed to the busy life of a college student. Like many other optimistic 18-year-olds, I thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life: I was hell-bent on breaking into the medical field, pursuing a degree in pharmacy so I could sit back and relish in my six-figure salary after a day of dishing out pills and reading up  the oh-so-fun topic of chemical interactions.

Remembering that -- along with diving headfirst into my career studies -- I also had to fulfill the typical liberal arts requirements, I frantically searched high and low through the undergraduate bulletin to find a class that even remotely sparked my interest. Seeking the advice of the much wiser upperclassmen, I'd heard some positive reviews about POLI 100, a beginner's course on the general structure and interworkings of American politics. And I'd also heard that it was "easy." What college student isn't looking for a GPA booster? I knew that within my self-convicted, science-obsessed soul I would need a safety net in case things went south in biology and chemistry. So I signed up for the class, since I was slightly more interested in politics than your average college student anyway, and my older brother, having made his way through law school, knew the ins and outs of the political science curriculum at UNC. When I told him my professor would be George Rabinowitz, he told me I'd love the class. At the time, I didn't know just how much truth this opinion would hold.

One of the first things I learned when making the transition from high school to college was that a few professors, as opposed to high school teachers that merely "taught to the test," actually had a passion for what they were teaching. They sought out students who wanted to come to class and cared about the material as much as they did, and that enthusiasm shined through in their teaching styles. George was one of those few, and, despite that conviction that I "loved" science courses, I actually enjoyed dragging myself out of bed and trudging to my political science class every Monday and Wednesday. I looked forward to George's mix of subtle humor and his extensive knowledge of politics. Though he was probably one of the most intelligent scholars in his field, he never taught with a condescending, "you-should-know-this-already" style. He was friendly and open to all students; if you needed extra help, he would be there. His tests were challenging, and yes, we even had to read a novel on the worst topic ever: tax reform. We all groaned and complained (who could ever even turn tax reform into a novel anyway?) -- but secretly we all probably enjoyed it just a little, because we were being educated. I was most interested in George's lectures on elections and voting behavior, and I was fascinated by his development of the directional model of voting. He made the complicated things simple. And as I delved deeper into politics, my interest in science and the like began to tarnish.

All in all, the class did help my GPA, but it went much further than that. George's enthusiastic attitude towards a subject that so many would find mundane and his passion for educating pushed me to sign up for a few more political science classes the next semester. When my first year at Carolina came to a close, I had a solid GPA and had done well in my science classes, which, of course, is what really mattered... right? But after a few weeks of being home for the summer, I began to second guess myself (to my great chagrin). I liked politics, but there was no way social science mixed with physical science. I couldn't major in both subjects, because it would most likely be a waste of my time.

But, one night, after reflecting on my year and on the ways I'd been challenged to think critically in my political science classes -- and especially George's class in particular -- I took a leap of faith and dropped every single one of my science classes for the next semester. Am I crazy? I thought. There was probably no way I could get into the classes I'd need to be in if I just switched my major on a whim sans any advising. And considering the huge wait list for the science classes, there was definitely no way I could get back into the classes I'd just dropped.

But by some miracle, it worked. I found my way into many of the classes I needed, and, thanks to some inspiration from George, I'd already taken a few of the classes I was required to take for the political science major. I'm now a second-semester sophomore, one class away from completing the political science major, with hopes of attending law school upon graduation. I don't think I could be any more satisfied with my studies, nor could I be any more convinced that this is what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.

Though I never got to know George one-on-one, I felt like I really got to know him personally. He taught his classes as if you were the only individual in the classroom, never rushing through lectures and always stopping to answer any questions. If I'd never signed up for that first political science class, I'd probably still be blindly and half-heartedly working my way through chemical equations, falling asleep somewhere between helium and carbon on the periodic table. Thanks to one of the greatest professionals and people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, I'm confident that I'm putting my best foot forward and my entire heart into something that I know will be rewarding as I pursue my career goals, and for that I'll be forever grateful.

We'll miss you, George.