I was glad to see the wonderful face of André Maman in the May 16 issue, and then saddened to learn the reason he was there (In Memoriam).
Like many choices I made as a freshman, I wasn’t sure about signing up for French. I had studied the language for many years; it was the common language (along with English) of my European parents, and so I’d heard and spoken a lot of French before walking into the class (French 201? 203?) in East Pyne in the fall of 1980. Perhaps there were other, better courses I was missing?
But then I hadn’t known about Professor Maman. He had us all on that first morning — and I can almost remember all the others in the class, just from the memory of his deep voice bellowing “Monsieur Golfinos?” “Mademoiselle Beckett?” “Mademoiselle Lareuse?” “Monsieur Nagorski?” and so forth. Like the best of teachers, Maman was demanding and fun, in the right measures, and always engaging. He kept you on your toes, made you not only want to read Camus but come to class with something intelligent to say about it — in French, of course.
Merci encore, Monsieur Maman! Condolences to your family.