Mary Ellen Ryder

Yes, I knew Mary Ellen Ryder, both of us having taught for the BSU English Department. Actually, she taught Linguistics, somehow separate from English, and I taught writing. She may have known all there is to know about linguistics; I'll never know all there is to know about writing. She was tenure track; I wasn't. But I like to think she considered me a colleague.

We were not close friends but close enough to call each other by first names, to chat now and then about words, close enough that when she saw my son Andrew's name on her linguistics class roster she asked, "How's Carol?" I knew her well enough to know her energy and excitement about her subject, about teaching it, to be aware of her cancer crises and triumphs, to have met her husband Peter several times. Well enough to know she liked to play the guitar and sing at those sometime English Department get togethers. Nothing spectacular, but she liked to do it.

I knew her well enough to sense her students' affection for her. And their respect. As my son Richard says, "Good luck to BSU finding someone as good as she was."

She was outspoken, a good quality when you have plenty of knowledge so that what you say rings true. Good for Mary Ellen. She did, and what she said was usually worth listening to.

English teachers are not your typical rank and file types. Double that for Mary Ellen. Only one like her to come along. That was true while she lived, true now that she has gone.

What My Student Wrote

“I wish that I had a penny for every time that I have ever stuck my foot in my mouth because I would be a milliner by the time that I am 21.”