Skip to content

What I Learned from a Favorite Professor

January 23, 2021

Another Way for week of January 15, 2021

What I Learned from a Favorite Professor

Omar Eby, grading papers, behind some plants, a Shen yearbook photo.

He was known to mutter words like “rubbish!” and “horrors!” when analyzing a piece of writing.  

One of my favorite professors at Eastern Mennonite College (now EMU) died recently. Not of COVID-19, but after a long battle with vascular dementia—which sometimes comes about after a stroke, I’m told. Omar Eby taught English literature and writing courses during my time at EMU.

Omar (we usually called our professors by their first names, a practice he was fine with) was perhaps the single most influential person guiding me into the occupation I’ve loved: writer.

He was not one to mince words regarding what he thought of our writing. More than once I stiffened as he’d huff out the word “rubbish” in response to a piece of writing. But he was not rude, nor rough, just honest and not afraid to let you know how and where your writing needed improving. As a writer, you have to be ready for critique, editing, refining, putting in the most perfect word.

According to his obit, Eby was a friend and mentor to many aspiring young writers. Eby’s life of 85 years was impacted greatly by serving six years as an English teacher in east and central Africa. It was there, I’m thinking, that he learned to speak with a bit of a British English accent and flair. As he returned to the U.S. teaching at the college level, he frequently shared what he’d learned from the cultures of Somalia, Tanzania, and Zambia. He also wrote several novels and other books, some centered in Africa: How Full the River (published while I was under his tutelage).

I never saw much of him after leaving EMU, until he moved to Virginia Mennonite Retirement Community, which offers full nursing care in a non-institutional, homelike setting. A group from my church would usually go there to carol at Christmas. I remember the first time I saw him with a huge bib at the large dining room table, and almost nonverbal. I drew in my breath. Could that be the professor who was always dressed neatly, always had a witty and incisive remark about a piece of writing, who had no patience for mediocrity. It was hard to see him there and as I approached him to say hello, he seemed to remember me. But I wasn’t sure.

But what counts is the instruction he gave me, mostly affirming and positive or suggesting other words or approaches. He read and graded carefully, catching the smallest misspelling and encouraging us to submit articles that he deemed outstanding to various magazines. I still laugh when I read a note on one of my papers when I tried to coin a word, “poetize.” “Horrors!” he wrote, “what a term.” I think I thought it meant to “wax poetic.” Another time I used a word, “silented.” He wrote simply, “No!” The paper got a C+. That paper ended up being a chapter in my first book—carefully fixed and expanded.

Once Omar shared how he had written a long essay on assignment for Saturday Evening Post about returning to the continent of Africa and the feelings that overwhelmed him as he flew over the western coast. He quietly told us it had been accepted for publication. Then came the bad news. They ended up paying him a kill fee—and if that sounds brutal, it is to any author/writer. It was substantial for those days, somewhere between $500 and $1000, but he said he would have been much happier to be published in the magazine and foregone the payment.

So he was human. And now has left us, like so many others. These times give us opportunity to reflect more fully on what various people have meant to us, and, I hope, give us pause to decide to invest ourselves more fully in bringing meaning and joy and instruction to the lives of others.

A yearbook picture, in his safari type top which he wore frequently, with his daughters. They later also had a son.

What did you learn from a favorite teacher, pastor, family member, friend?


After I wrote this, I discovered thoughts and memories regarding Omar by other English majors, and colleagues here. His memorial service is being conducted today (Jan. 23, 2021) and streaming is available here.

Your own thoughts and observations? Send to or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.

Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of nine books. Another Way columns are posted at a week after newspaper publication.  

  1. This is a great tribute to a much-loved teacher. Omar Eby, a graduate of LMS and then EMC, struck me as an energetic fellow. He may have been teaching in the 1960s when I attended the College, but he was not one of my professors. His wife too was full of enthusiasm; I remember her being referred to as A. K. They both contributed mightily to education, the arts, along with service on the mission field.

    I notice the service today features classical music, which so befits his interest in the arts. Thanks for the nod to his fine servant of the Lord.

    • Glad you commented (and not surprised) because I wondered if you also had Eby. I had forgotten about his LMS days! They probably were in Africa when you attended EMC? (And it seems I’m doing a lot of columns on those who are passing on lately. But he truly was important in my life and development as a writer.) 🙂

  2. Beverly Si permalink

    Thanks for sharing, Melodie, very touching. Bev

Trackbacks & Pingbacks

  1. Messing with Memoir: Dross, rubbish and the rewriting | findingharmonyblog

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Jennifer Murch

Art is the only way to run away without leaving home. -Twyla Tharp

Trisha Faye

Cherishing the Past while Celebrating the Present


To walk or tramp about; to gad, wander. < Old French - trapasser (to trespass).

Tuesdays with Laurie

"Whatever you are not changing, you are choosing." —Laurie Buchanan

Hickory Hill Farm

Blueberries, grapes, vegetables, and more

The Centrality and Supremacy of Jesus Christ

The Website & Blog of David D. Flowers

Cynthia's Communique

Navigating careers, the media and life

the practical mystic

spiritual adventures in the real world

Osheta Moore

Shalom in the City

Shirley Hershey Showalter

writing and reading memoir

Mennonite Girls Can Cook

Harmony, grace and wisdom for family living.

mama congo

Harmony, grace and wisdom for family living.


Harmony, grace and wisdom for family living.

Roadkill Crossing

Writing generated from the rural life

%d bloggers like this: