The magic of Dr. Pet

The Magic of Dr. PET
It was the beginning of the semester, and the University of Mendes is open for the new academic year. There were rumors the physics professor was going on a sabbatical leave and a replacement would be handling the second year's physics class. Some students in the university always tend to get the latest news on the campus. They are like the privileged kids whose parents paid for a backstage pass to see that popular musician before the show.

The class was billed to be by 8.00 AM and the students already knew that 8.00 AM is a African Time. This is not out of place in most dealings in the vicinity. In other words, 8.00 AM is a range of period from 8 AM to 11 AM. It all depends on the desire of the lecturer to show up. Often times, lecturers were known to not show up, but would send a text message five minutes to the supposed end of their class to give their regrets for not making it. Those are the gracious ones; others would not bother to inform the students of their inability to make it to class.

Also, the first two weeks of school's opening was treated as a holiday of sorts. It was an unofficial rule that if the date of school's resumption was billed as 14th April, everyone knew to add another 14 days to that day before expecting "serious" lectures. The second-year university physics students were 105 in number but that day only a handful of them numbering about 25 were in class. Those in classes were students who were forced to return to school by parents who had gotten tired of their homes being turned into a youth rendezvous camp by their adrenaline-filled children and were eagerly counting the days till resumption in order to ship them off to school.

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At 7.50 AM the whole class was noisy with different students speaking at the top of their voices, each trying to outshout the other as tales of holiday adventures filled the air. At the extreme left corner of the class were about nine guys talking about football. You could hear words "Messi", "Hazard", "Chelsea" etc being shouted in no particular order. It was like Monday morning on a stock exchange trading floor.

No one noticed the diminutive slim man wearing a well-ironed white shirt and blue flannel trousers quietly walk in and stand in front of the class, just beside the entrance, observing the chaos in a way a lab scientist observes rat on medication. No one could blame them for not noticing him. He was about, five feet four and is slim to the point of gauntness. Looking at him, you would have sworn that he was just another student in the class. His face was completely hairless and the skin of his face taut, making it difficult to notice the wrinkles or the lines around his eyes. He may be mistaken for one of the students of another department whose class may be after that particular one. That was until you look well then you would notice that you are indeed wrong, that the young man standing there should be in his late 50s.

His eyes appeared to be sunken which may be as a result of the thick-rimmed glasses that perched on his face in an almost comical way. But that was where the entire comic ended. His demeanor spoke of iron discipline in terms of a lot of things. His stature may fool you at first glance but his eyes behind the glasses would show you a man that had seen more than he could or cared to remember. He stood there only glancing at his watch every once in a while. He never made any other move but looks at his time and observes the chaotic scene unfolding right in front of him. It was 7.59 AM when he started walking towards the blackboard. Now, some students sitting in front noticed him for the first time and wondered who he was. Then it was 8.00 AM. The man in white shirt, reached into his breast pocket and picked up a red marker, and proceeded to write in the most beautiful clear handwriting the students had ever seen. He printed this on the blackboard:

PHY 201 (Elementary Theory of Physics)

Prof. PHILIPS EMEGHERIDEMA THOMPSON (Ph.D. Molecular Physics)

You can call me Dr. PET for short. I'm a magician. Each day I come here, you will learn a new thing before I go. That's magic.

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The last one got sniggers from the class and he seized the opportunity to speak.

"Now that I got your attention, and you already know my name. I'd like to believe this is the 200 level Physics students?" It was both a question and a speech.

His voice was so low and soft that only those seated at the first three rows of the class could hear him.

„We can't hear you, Sir!" A gruff voice shouted from the back of the class.

"That is because you guys are chattering like monkeys. How could you hear me when you can't stop talking?" It was a rhetorical question.

He said this in an even lower voice than before that only the students in the first row could barely hear him. This was to be his recognized signature; to speak in lower voice when the level of noise in the class was not to his liking. He was also going to be the only Professor who refused to make use of the public addressing system during classes. He said the feedback from it disturbed his thought processes. Well, to be fair, a lot of things disturbed Dr. PET's thought processes. One of them was about to happen.

The class was graveyard quiet. It is odd that the quietest place of reference is the graveyard. The people who used that as reference was not in Dr. PET's class or that phrase could have been as quiet as Dr. PET's physics class!

A sharp sound broke the silence. It was Michael Jackson's Thriller music. At that particular moment, the ringtone seemed heinous in what it did to the beautiful quietness of Dr. PET's class.

Dr. PET appeared to have been molested as he looked towards the sound of the offending ringtone.