Mr. Loeb is not any old English teacher.
Maybe he looks like one. Maybe he’s got that classic, slighty-cliché graying hair, kind wrinkles, round glasses, and somewhat hunched-back appearance that instantly identify him as one of those teachers that practically live in the Humanities Building, live off cold pizza, devote their lives to literary work and generally are slight outcasts in society.
Well, folks, not this one.

Mr. Loeb is fondly known as the craziest and most enthusiastic teacher on campus. He will not hesitate to jump on tables to perform both Romeo and Juliet during the romantic balcony scene complete with voices, facial expressions, and sound effects – on Parents Weekend. Didn’t get enough sleep last night? Better stay awake. Loeb will nonchalantly leap across the table to smack you on the head with an Expo marker and then continue talking about gerunds and past participles as if said scene never occurred. Everybody having a bad day? Loeb will go through a lesson in half the time and then bring the class to his house to make homemade bread while listing examples of various literary devices (“Class, a paradox is something that seems to contradict itself. For example, my class helped me bake this bread, and it will taste good.”)

Perhaps some parents will gasp in terror. “This teacher is too enthusiastic about – everything!” they might cry in anger. “How do the students learn anything at all?”

And yet, my dear parents, explain how almost every student in his class has the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet memorized verbatim, complete with rather convincing voices, facial expressions, and sound effects. Explain how students, years later, can recite exactly what a paradox is and use examples. Explain how all of his students rush to English class as fast as they possibly can.
Granted, this might be due to Loeb’s unusual habit of hiding under the table to scar latecomers or his constant memory failure when it comes to writing where the class went should he decide to bring them to the Dining Hall for class. Stragglers simply must roam around the school until they hear his voice roaring about the simply miraculous uses of similes.
Explain.
You try, and yet you can’t.
Because, in truth, it’s not English everybody is excited for.


It’s Mr. Loeb.