David Rubinstein

• Clinical Associate Professor

Biography

Linda Ellen taught me something very important, something that I regularly forget, but sometimes I remember. That fall semester,

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Linda Ellen taught me something very important, something that I regularly forget, but sometimes I remember. That fall semester, I was a Ph.D. student, teaching several classes, and struggling to finish my dissertation. The Dean asked me to add a hospitalized senior, to one of my classes, teaching the course by phone. So, every Monday and Wednesday night, my pockets bulging with rolls of quarters, I leaned against the pay phone at the gas station, calling Linda Ellen in her hospital bed, to give her the same boring lectures I had given my class that day. She didn't want to take this class any more than I wanted to teach it, but her family, the doctors, and the Dean commanded. Sometimes, she would hang up on me. I had to call the Nurse's Station to ask the nurse to "force her" to not hang up on me. She had an independent spirit, and she could be a devil. Funny though, after a while, I started to look forward to spending Monday and Wednesday nights with her by phone. And I think she did too. I gave her the tests over the phone. I could hear her shuffling through the book trying to find the answers; she wasn't supposed to do that. But she had an independent spirit, and she could be a devil. She did well in the course, and I called her a week before Christmas to let her know. She was glad. So was I. I was reading the campus newspaper in February, and I saw the Silver Taps list of students who died the month before. Linda Ellen's name was on that list. The university granted her degree, posthumously, and I went to her graduation. I never saw her (not even a photo) but I still have a clear picture of her in my mind's eye. I never told her how much her fresh spirit meant to me. But I think she knew.

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