Speaking to students is one of the joys of my life. It’s inspiring to be there when their worlds are opening and try to stretch them a bit. These last few years, I’ve had the privilege of guest-teaching at several high-schools and colleges, including Princeton, Suz’s alma mater. I speak about humanitarian work, Africa and jobs in the public interest. Take risks for good, I tell students. Then I share stories from far-off places some call distant crises. With video and photos, I introduce them to men, women and children living in Darfur, Ethiopia, Rwanda and in refugee communities across the United States who have left an indelible mark on my heart.
Suz left indelible footprints on all of our hearts. Who can forget that infectious giggle, that light-up-the-room smile? Who, when speaking about Suz, doesn’t reference her courage, tenacity and enthusiasm? Suz took risks for good. It’s what she was about, and it’s what she would have done more of had she been able to take a few more steps down the noble path she chose.
Suz would have been a great teacher, too. One of those educators who’s more like a friend, sees the beauty and the possibility in all of us, and whose lesson plans would have been so dynamic, you’d forget you were learning at all! I smile imagining the fantastically creative assignments she would have given, the patient compassion she’d have shown the kid falling behind. Knowing Suz, she probably would have painted her lecture hall purple.
When I guest-teach, Suz is there in the audience. Her spirit, her off-the-wall stories, her solid, true-blue (that’s turquoise) personality. She pops up in the young student at Georgetown who was so moved by what was happening in Darfur she asked me to autograph her sneakers. She’s there at the Queens high-school during the priceless “Ew gross, you ate what in Africa?!” moment. Suz is there in those classrooms wearing her polka-dot glasses and sprig of a ponytail. Or, a few years down the line, sporting her brand-new, white medical coat.
Suz, thank you for teaching us all so much in the short time we were blessed to know you. I have a feeling you’ll be teaching us for a long time to come. Something tells me, somewhere up in heaven, you’re surrounded by kids who’ve found a hero in you. Kids running around on clouds in tennishoes chock full of your autographs.
- Emily Holland, friend from Princeton