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我的老教授——莫里
作者：
来源：《时代英语·高二》2017年第03期
Have you ever really had a teacher， who saw you as a raw but precious thing， and as a jewel that， with wisdom， could be polished to a proud shine？ If you are lucky enough to have such teachers， you will always find your way back.
My old professor’s death sentence came in the summer of 1994. Doctors guessed he had two years left， but Morrie knew it was less. But my old professor had made a profound decision， which he began to construct the day he came out of the doctor’s office with a sword hanging over his head. “Do I wither up and disappear， or do I make the best of my time left？” He had asked himself. He would not wither. He would not be ashamed of dying. Instead， he would make death his final project， the center point of his days. Since everyone was going to die， he could be of great value， right？ He could be researched—a human textbook—study me in my slow and patient demise. Watch what happens to me. Learn with me. Morrie would walk that final bridge between life and death， and narrate the trip.
The last class of my old professor’s life had only one student. I was the student. The last class took place once a week in his house， by a window in the study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink leaves. The class met on Tuesdays. It began after breakfast. The subject was “The Meaning of Life”. It was taught from experience. No grades were given， but there were oral exams each week. You were expected to respond to questions， and you were expected to pose questions of your own. You were also required to perform physical tasks now and then， such as lifting the professor’s head to a comfortable spot on the pillow or placing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Kissing him good-bye earned you extra credit. No books were required， yet many topics were covered， including love， work， community， family， aging， forgiveness， and， finally—death.
Sometimes I look back at the person I was before I rediscovered my old professor. I want to talk to that person. I want to tell him what to look out for， and what mistakes to avoid. I want to tell him to be more open， to ignore the lure of advertised values， and to pay attention when your loved ones are speaking， as if it were the last time you might hear them. Mostly I want to tell that person to get on an airplane and visit a gentle old man in West Newton， Massachusetts sooner rather than later， before that old man gets sick and loses his ability to dance. I know I cannot do this. None of us can undo what we’ve done， or relive a life which was already recorded. But if Professor Morrie Schwartz taught me anything at all， it was this： there is no such thing as “too late” in life. He was changing until the day he said good-bye.
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你是否曾真正拥有一位良师？一位认为你虽然未加雕琢却弥足珍贵的老师，一位视你为珍宝，认为你充满智慧并能打磨出骄傲光芒的老师？如果你足够幸运能拥有这样的老师，你将总会找到回来的路。
我的老教授的死亡判决是在1994年的夏天下达的。医生估计他还有两年的时间，而莫里知道他的时日还要更短。但我的老教授做出了一个重大决定，这个决定是在他头悬利剑走出诊所的那天就开始酝酿的。“我就这样枯竭下去直到消亡，还是充分利用所剩下的时间呢？”他问自己。他不会枯竭而死，他不会因为死亡而羞愧。相反，他要把死亡当作他最后的课题，当作他余生的中心点。既然每个人都有一死，他可以死有所值，对不对？他可以让别人去研究——成为一本关于人的教科书——研究我缓慢而耐心的死亡过程。观察在我身上发生的一切。从我这儿学到点什么。莫里将走过最后那座連接生与死的桥梁，并讲述这段旅程。
我的老教授一生中的最后一门课只有一名学生。我就是那名学生。最后一门课程每星期在他家里上一次，就在书房的窗前，在那儿他可以看到淡红色的树叶从一棵小木槿上掉落下来。这门课的上课时间是每个星期二，吃完早餐便开始上课。课的主题是“生活的意义”，用他的亲身经历来教授。这门课不打分数，但每星期都有口试。你得准备回答问题，还得准备提出自己的问题。你还要不时地干一些体力活，比如把教授的头挪动到枕头上一个舒服的位置，或者把眼镜架到他的鼻梁上。分别时亲吻他能得到额外的学分。虽然课堂上不需要教材，但涉及的话题却很多，包括爱情、工作、社会、家庭、衰老、谅解，以及最后的话题——死亡。 有时我会回想起在我再次找到老教授之前的那个自己。我想和过去的自己谈一谈。我想告诉他应该追寻什么，应该避免哪些错误。我想告诉他要更加宽容，要忽视商业价值的诱惑，要注意倾听所爱之人的言语，仿佛这是你最后一次听他们说话一样。而我最想告诉他的是，在那位老人生病之前，在他失去跳舞能力之前，乘飞机去看望住在马萨诸塞州西纽顿的那位温柔的老人吧，宜早不宜迟。我知道我不能这样做了。没有人能让我们把过去重新来过，或者把已经逝去的生命重新唤醒。但是如果莫里·斯瓦兹教授教给我了什么，那就是：生活中永远没有“太迟”。直到他与世长辞的最后一刻，他都没有停止改变。
我的老教授——莫里
