The following article kicks off a new department in Wittenberg Magazine titled Reflections. We hope it serves to remind you of your own college memories, just as a book reminded John Hartje ’70 and Carol Camper ’70 of one of theirs. Perhaps there was a professor who inspired you or an experience that in some way defined your time at Wittenberg. Whatever your “reflection,” we hope you’ll share it with us via e-mail at wittmagazine@wittenberg.edu.

Recently I happened onto a slim book titled Kant in 90 Minutes by Paul Strathern, one of a series of such books explicating Western philosophers consistent with the attention span engendered by the Internet Age. The title rekindled vivid memories of an extraordinary class with Pete Celms over 30 years ago.

It was late afternoon on a spring day in 1970. We would be graduating soon. The Cambodian invasion and Kent State were just ahead.

A dozen or so students, including Carol and me, had assembled in the elongated claustrophobic seminar room in Zimmerman Hall for Pete’s course on the Intellectual History of Europe.

Pete’s encyclopedic knowledge of all history is legend, but he seemed to have a particular affinity for this course. I think it may have been because, as Pete proudly recounted, the renowned German historian philosopher Friedrich Meinecke and Pete had once been together in the same European town — when Pete was 4 or 5 years old! Pete was clearly wistful as he expressed regret that he had not been able to meet Meinecke on that occasion. (If he had, I’m certain Pete would have held his own!)

In any event, on this particular day in 1970, Pete was immersed in a discussion about 18th century philosophers when he asked a relatively innocuous question about Kant. A perky co-ed promptly volunteered a rote answer that evidenced a complete lack of any understanding about the underpinnings of Kant’s philosophy (not that the rest of us necessarily would have done much better, of course.)

Pete — always patient, always calm, always good-humored — didn’t flinch … or cringe. Instead, he inhaled almost imperceptibly. He heaved his barrel-like chest just a bit. His eyes, always sparkling, rolled ever so slightly. His lip reflected just the hint of a bemused — perhaps bewildered — smile.

Then, without a pause, Pete proceeded in the next hour to recount the entire history of Western philosophy from Aristotle to Kant. He never hesitated. He didn’t skip a beat. His impromptu lecture encompassed the principal philosophers (and a few of the obscure ones) and connected them in a seamless continuum that led to Kant’s door.

It was an astonishing performance.

Pete was spellbinding. The class was rapt, if not stunned. I felt like applauding and wish that we had. It was by far the most brilliant single hour of teaching I have ever experienced.

If only I could say today, “Let’s go to the videotape.”

Thanks, Pete.