Alumnus recognizes retired professor and friend

Four years ago, when I first stepped onto the university's campus as a freshman, I never imaged I'd be following the scent of body odor to the best homework assignment of my life.

But there I was, navigating the depths of the Wachovia Center to the Philadelphia 76ers' locker room, where I got to interview NBA stars after a rare Sixers win. Despite my passion for Philly sports, I suppressed my excitement and conducted my interviews as professionally as possible—it was all part of my assignment to cover a professional game and write a story with the same deadline as a writer at a daily newspaper would. It blew away my friends when I told them about my "homework," partly because of how unique the experience was, but mostly because they didn't realize teachers in college assigned anything but busy work. It's crazy, but some people still care whether you learn something or not.

Think about the teachers you've had at this school. Now, cut that list down to the 10 percent who knew your name. Of those teachers, I only had one teacher who truly cared about his students and what he was teaching. Professor Bill Fleischman taught journalism classes at the university since 1981 and did his best to send students home at the end of the semester as better writers. He had a philosophy that there was a difference between assigning work and teaching. His two main concerns—teaching and making sure his students learned—were different than the concerns of most other teachers I encountered at this university: tenure and pay raises.

If this column reads more like an obituary, maybe that's because Professor Fleischman's retirement from teaching has an aura of death surrounding it. Fleischman is alive and well, but the art of teaching is not, and his departure from the university last spring served as a crushing blow to the profession. Maybe it's because to him, it wasn't actually teaching as much as it was sharing his experience.

He graduated from Gettysburg College in 1960 with a degree in English and began covering the Philadelphia Flyers in the 1970s for the Philadelphia Daily News, back when the Broad Street Bullies were winning Stanley Cups. After close to 40 years, Fleischman is still with the paper, surviving their countless layoffs and even bankruptcy.

His years covering the Flyers, NASCAR and NCAA basketball left him with plenty of stories, memories and, most importantly, experiences that every young journalist should hear. His time served as the president of two groups, the Philadelphia Sports Writers Association and the Professional Hockey Writers Association, added to his clout, so you knew whatever he told you to do was in your best interest.

Fleischman's students have been known to do great things, with credit always pointed back his way. One of his best-known students is Jeff Pearlman, a SI.com columnist who in 2007 got the lack of rivalry between the University of Delaware and Delaware State University national recognition while writing for ESPN.com. The University of Delaware later scheduled their first regular-season football game between the "Route One Rivals" for 2009. When I told Pearlman I was writing a column about Fleischman and his retirement, he agreed the recognition was deserved "1,000 times over."

"Bill Fleischman has been more important to my journalism career than anyone else I can think of," he said in an email. "He is genuinely interested in his students' progress; he honestly wants to see you improve and love writing."

Professor Fleischman wasn't perfect at everything—sometimes, class would end early because he couldn't get his video tape in the VCR to play on the projector—but it was the fact that he cared about each of his students that helped you look past his total lack of knowledge of DVDs, the Internet and YouTube. If you missed an assignment, Fleischman didn't give you a zero, he demanded to speak with you in person about why you didn't have it in and when you would send it to him. If a story was poorly written, he let you know why and didn't sugar coat it, then sent you home to rewrite it for a better grade. He didn't want to fail anyone because that wouldn't help the student. If you needed an extension, he wouldn't be thrilled—he made sure you knew an editor would chew you out for asking the same question—but Fleischman wanted his students to have a chance to always submit their best work.

You didn't even have to be one of his current students to receive his guidance. After taking his class in the spring of 2009, it seemed like each week while I was the Managing Sports Editor at The Review, Fleischman would send one of my editors with notes on how to make the section better and fix the mistakes I didn't even know were there. As frustrating as it may be to have every single one of your imperfections pointed out, it wasn't in Fleischman's nature to let something go untaught or to miss an opportunity to better someone's writing and editing. It's that dedication to his students, ex-students and, frankly, anyone who would listen that will make his presence in Memorial Hall so dearly missed.

As I drove home from Philadelphia that night, I let my excitement loose and channeled it into my homework assignment of recapping the game. From that point on I knew I was destined to be a sports journalist. Whenever I smell that familiar locker room stench of blood, sweat and tears, I know I'll have my favorite professor—but more importantly, my friend—to thank for helping me realize my life's passion.

If only all teachers knew how to do that.