E A T II Teachers With Lots of fessor at any given col- The most popular pro- lege may teach poetry. Or political science, or phys ed. The subject doesn't matter; the spirit of the teaching does. What students look for is a demonstrated com- mitment to them. NEWSWEEK ON CAMPUS asked its reporters at a dozen schools to search out faculty whose packed classes have become campus legend. The professors they wrote about were, on the surface, very differ- ent: easy graders and tough ones, men and women, teachers of small seminars and huge lectures. Some cared most about challenging their stu- dents; some, about making them comfortable. Many used humor to leaven learning. All believed they had a mission. What the professors also had in common was the kind of tribute their admiring students ren- dered. "He's so enthusiastic." "Her door is open." "He lis- tened to me." Here are profiles of a half dozen of these celebrat- ed teachers. Driven by passion: Weil surrounded, as usual, by Northwestern students; Zinn on the campus of Boston University The Showman Beloved traditions at Northwestern include painting messages on the boulder that serves as a campus bul- letin board, complaining about the lack- luster social life and taking Prof. Irwin Weil's Introduction to the Soviet Union. Last spring 814 students signed up, and the course met in the biggest hall on cam- pus. What packs them in? Weil's passion. "One guy said that I love Russian culture so much I'd make a Russian patriot out of Joe McCarthy," Weil jokes. He speaks Russian fluently, even dreams in it; after close to 30 visits, he knows parts of Moscow "as well as Evanston." In class he gestures expansively. His voice rises, his bow ties quiver. ("I'm the well- dressed man of 1943," he says with a laugh.) Dignity doesn't matter: "When you talk about exciting things, it's OK to be excited." Says student Tom Wells: "Mostly I've had people who lecture like they're reading off a script. He doesn't seem like that." A single class isn't nearly long enough to contain all his enthusiasm. Take one ses- sion last spring. Weil's bow tie that day was orange with red dots. Be honest on your exams, he told the students, even though "I'm not the KGB. If the KGB depended on me, they'd be in trouble." Then on to Rus- sian holiday customs. "On Easter, people greet and kiss three times. It's a popular custom-especially among men who are going after certain women." Leo Tolstoy was next. Weil interrupted himself to remi- nisce about raising his children-then re- turned to the great novelist. "'War and Peace,' a book about adultery, love and human existence ends with a pair of dirty diapers," Weil said. "What a way to end a novel! Leo, you shouldn't have done it." Then he sang a Russian folk song about a soldier marrying Death. The students hoot- ed, and one held up a sheet of paper scoring the performance: "9.9." When the hour ended, the students trooped out, bubbling with energy they'd caught from Weil. The campus humor magazine poked fun at the partylike at- mosphere in a parody course evaluation last year. "The professor told many hilari- ous jokes. I'd like to spend ... my life with him," read one mock comment. The man himself downplays his popularity, but says he'll never limit class size. "The most exciting thing," he says, "is when you feel large numbers of students react deeply to what you react deeply to." The Activist Each Tuesday and Thursday morning at 11, more than 300 students jam into an auditorium to learn from a gray- haired guru of political science. Boston University offers classes with other emi-. nences, such as Elie Wiesel, the Holocaust survivor who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1986, and former Boston mayor Kevin White. But Howard Zinn, who is virtually 0 0 . 26 NEWSWEEK ON CAMPUSA APRIL 1988