course description The last class my teacher taught in his life was held once a week. The place was by the window of the teacher’s study. Outside the window, you could see a small hibiscus plant with pink leaves falling down one after another.Classes are held every Tuesday, starting after breakfast, and the class can be called the meaning of life.The teacher uses his life experience to teach. The course is not graded, but there will be an oral exam each week where you will answer questions and ask questions.You sometimes have to do things like put the old professor's head in a comfortable position, or put glasses on the bridge of his nose.Kissing him on the forehead goodbye gets you extra credit.

The course does not require a textbook, but covers a wide range of subjects, including love, work, community, family, aging, forgiveness, and finally death.The last lecture was short, only a few sentences. There is no graduation ceremony, only a funeral. There are no final exams, but a long report discussing what you have learned.My report is this book. In the last class of my teacher's life, there is only one student. This student is me. ◇◇◇ It was a hot, sweaty Saturday afternoon in the late spring of 1979.On the large lawn of the campus, rows of wooden folding chairs were neatly lined up, and hundreds of us students sat side by side.We wore blue velvet robes, and we were impatient with the tirade that took our turn.When the ceremony was over, we tossed our square hats in the air and officially graduated from Brandeis University in Watson, Massachusetts.For many of us, this is the end of the miserable green youth.

I found Murray.Schwartz, my favorite professor, introduced him to my parents.He is short in stature and short in his steps, as if a strong wind would blow him up to the clouds.In his graduation robes, he looked like a biblical prophet, half a gnome from a Christmas tale.His blue-green eyes sparkled, his thinning silver hair brushed his forehead, his ears were large, his nose was triangular, and his eyebrows were gradually turning white.His teeth were crooked, especially the lower ones that slanted inward, as if someone had punched them in, but when he laughed, it was like hearing the first joke ever.

He told my parents that I would take every one of his classes. He said: Your children are very special.I was a little embarrassed and looked down at my feet.Before saying goodbye, I gave the professor a present, a brown suitcase with his initials on it.I bought this at a mall the day before.I don't want to forget him, maybe I don't want him to forget me. Mitch, you are a good student.As he spoke, he examined the suitcase.Then he hugged me, and I felt his thin arms wrap around my back.I am taller than him, and when he hugs me like this, I feel helpless, and I feel like I am older, as if he is my child.

He asked if I would keep in touch, and I replied without hesitation: Of course. As he stepped back, I saw tears welling up in his eyes.