Jim McClellan

"Jimmie” McClellan is a jewel in the community college system and in the world. You look at him and he looks like a very nice gentle man, probably in his early sixties with graying hair and small nice face with an appreciative if not mischievous smile. He makes these little jokes all the time and if you listen, you’ll catch them.  It makes the class so much more enjoyable.  This, one may say about any professor.  But my story is a little different.

In June of 2005 I was enrolled in a prestigious four year school taking twenty one credits and on my way to a bachelors in political science or a masters in education when my fiance killed himself after an argument that we had. Needless to say I was devastated, I dropped out of school, smoked too much pot, drank too much alcohol, and became addicted to heroin, going as far as traveling through the worst parts of DC, hearing gun shots past my ear as a nineteen year old little blonde white girl all by myself, just to get it. I was on the wrong path and it was taking me nowhere fast.

I had always been a passionate person, I always loved learning and loved cultivating my mind, always took more credits than I had to, and was on the Dean’s List every semester. After Tim died, I just gave up. I didn’t care and no one could make me care.

Except for Jim McClellan. My parent’s forced me to at least agree to some classes at the local community college, which might for some people have seemed like a step down from my school in New York. For me it was just another school and just another place I didn’t want to be. How could I know that it could save my life, which was growing more suicidal every day. I took International Relations with Jim McClellan. Everyone had said good things about him so when he came in just looking like a very generic professor in a worn in but not too worn suit, looking every bit the passivist he is, I wondered what was so special.

But he is special. He would never hurt a flea, he’s vegetarian, he goes to visit ancient native american sites with his lovely wife as his vacations, and you can tell he loves his wife so much just by the look on his face when he talks about her. He is always calm, he is always caring, and he’s always willing to help and understand the circumstances of his numerous students. He traveled with Pete Seager, got the Pentagon Papers released, went to school with Janis Joplin, and even rides a unicycle!

When he teaches history he teaches it through a series of stories where you understand the personal motivations, tribulations, triumphs and tragedies that this world can cause individuals. He’s a humanist in the truest sense. He’s a man that Kurt Vonnegut could never satirize, because I don’t believe there is anything in his heart except for goodness.

I stopped going to alot of classes during this time. I just wouldn’t take the final, I just wouldn’t attend. I wouldn’t do projects. I’d sleep in class, or snort heroin in the bathroom beforehand. But not McClellan’s class. In McClellan’s class I would sit up straight, take pages and pages of notes, listen to every word he said, laugh at all his jokes, ask questions and participate. I’d even have a few jokes of my own that the class later told me they enjoyed. I was happy in his class, and I was sad when it ended. Even though the bus usually came shortly after the class was over, I’d always stay and talk to him for no reason except to be around someone I really saw as a good influence - even if it meant having to wait an hour for the next bus.

I went through withdrawal in the school library, lying on the floor in between aisle of books in the art section where I was supposed to be studying for my painting class. My connects were either in jail or in mental institutions and instead of being afraid of ending up there myself, I was more afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get any Heroin. Withdrawal was so horrible, and I wasn’t even expecting it. I didn’t like where I was, I know my fiance wouldn’t like where I was, and I knew Professor McClellan would be so disappointed. That’s the thing - he wouldn’t have been angry, I think the only thing that makes him angry is when innocent people are oppressed, but he would never be angry at his students. He would just be disappointed and to have such a good noble person disappointed - I’d never want to cause this man any sadness.

Eventually I dropped out of community college, getting my share of incompletes next to my “A” in McClellan’s International Relations class. After I turned in my final for the class I paused and looked at him. “Yes?” he asked, and then I just hugged him, really hugged him, face smushed against him. He laughed. After another semester of being depressed and drugged out and dropped out, I finally moved out of my parent’s house, snapped out of it and decided to try school again.

Professor McClellan is my professor for two out of my five classes, and I don’t think I could have gone back with out him. I’d take any class he would teach, and it would be good for me if only to keep my motivated.

One day, during our Native American History class he couldn’t be there so his wife administed one of our exams. After the class I knew I had to talk to her and let her know how much her husband meant to me. I started by telling her that if I could have two fathers, I would want Jim to be my dad. She laughed, and I realized that to Jim’s quiet, wise passive demeanor, she was somewhat the foil. She was also wise, but she was more like me, passionate and loud about the things she cared about. I heard she once got a South American airport to take her and Jim on a private flight exactly where they needed to go when the airline caused a group of people to miss their flight by lying to them. Both her and Jim had been what one might call hippies during the sixties and seventies, and I could see the protester in her. Needless to say I liked her right away. After we spoke for a while I felt comfortable enough to tell her my story. Then I found out we shared a frightening similar experience. When she was eighteen, her boyfriend shot himself in the face in front of her. Apparently I’m not the only one that Jim has been a comfort too, not that I ever thought that to be true. I’m sure he has done so much for so many, perhaps I should have checked to see if others have written about him as well.

I love this man with all my heart, I think the world would be a better place if there were more people like him, more leaders like him. If he was President there would be world peace. I’ve never met a more pure heart and someone more worthy of being my hero. I love this gentle man, and he is a gentleman in the truest sense of the word. I only hope that karma gives him all that he deserves and he continues to live a long and happy life. Thanks for doing so much for me, Professor McClellan, you’ve made me believe in life and happiness again. And that’s not an easy thing to do.