Father Gary Gurtler

Father Gurtler is probably the closest thing to a living archetype I have ever met. He is a small, careful man, I can probably count on my fingers the number of times I've seen his elbows have left his body. Well along in years, a crop of grey hair sweeps across his forehead, framing his round, bespectacled eyes. His skin is rather pink, though not quite ruddy. He has a small, well defined mouth and sagging jowls, which can give him the appearance of a permanent frown. Overall, his face is rather ovular and seems to emanate a balance and propriety. As you have probably assumed from the name, Father Gurtler is a Jesuit. As such, he dresses traditionally, in black jacket, vest, shirt, slacks, and shoes, with the white collar. On two occasions I have seen him deviate from this garb, both times simply exchanging the colors of his clothing, not his clothing himself. The exception to this is that when the collar is absent, he wears a necktie. He always wears a black pin with a gold symbol on his left lapel, the significance of which I have yet to discern or summon the courage to ask about. His shirts always have french cuffs. He has a habit of wearing jackets which seem a little too long for him, as his waistline tends to end at or above the highest button. However, I'm not sure these jackets could truly be described as ill-fitting, for the length of the sleeve and the width of the shoulder seem to fit him. Perhaps he just wears his pants much higher than most young men these days could comfortably think about, let alone consider adopting. 

When he speaks, he speaks softly and intelligently, looking at each student in the classroom in turn. A habit I have fallen into in his class is to tell time by observation. As the class progresses he is wont to write on the chalkboard. As he does, chalk inevitably dabs onto the sleeve of his jacket and shirt, then when his hands return to his side, the chalk then enlightens the side of his black coat. By looking at the amount of chalk on his side, one can reasonably deduce how long the class has been going on. Father Gurtler's classes have no real beginning. He simply walks into the classroom, sets his things down, puts on his glasses, and begins speaking in his measured way. Vowels such as "a" and "e" tend to be just a little exaggerated, and sounds like "s" or "t" are almost swallowed. One would do well to listen carefully to his soft voice, which although somewhat monotone, regularly intones the phonemes of wisdom. He has a habit of calling on students that seems to not be paying attention to him to answer questions, but doesn't seems to be doing it judgmentally. Rather, he seems to be saying "pay attention please. This is important." One thing that a student of his must accustom themselves to is the rarity with which he smiles. I have seen it a few times, each time a natural, jocular, good natured smile, but these are rare. It was only when I went to his office hours to consult with him on a paper topic that I realized that his visage doesn't betray his true feelings. Indeed, his visage betrays quite little about him at all. 

He seems especially versed in the teachings of Aristotle, and will commonly relate the other authors and thinkers we study back to him. Whether he does this for the sake of effectiveness or convenience is more or less unknown. This is not to say that he is not knowledgeable about other philosophies and histories. He is a fount of knowledge when it comes to greek, latin, epicureans, stoics, and many other pertinent subjects, and his teaching reflects that. He has a way of taking the frantic, fervent, frenetic answers we provide to his questions and understanding what they were originally trying to say. He is likewise able to translate texts that are thousands of years old into a vernacular with which his students can relate and understand. I have found him to grade rather fairly, rewarding original thought more than mere regurgitation of what was taught in class. I have never found myself wanting to fall asleep in any of his classes (yet).