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How could such a happy name inspire so much fear? Throughout the school, this name was dreaded, feared, cursed, and abused. At the beginning of the school year, there would always be a student weeping with hatred, crying out against his crazed science teacher, Mr. Joy. People thought of him as the embodiment of all evil possible in a teacher, a heartless dictator, a cruel old man. When he walked by, he often got stares, and whispers of â€Å"Hitler† behind his back. On that hot languid September morning, I sat in stony silence at my desk, hearing the warnings of upperclassmen echoing in my ears, waiting for Mr. Joy to appear.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚   As he walked in, I breathed a temporary sigh of relief. At least I am taller than him! A short wiry man with an almost military gait marched into the room. The hair on his slightly balding head was thoroughly brushed back, his clothes impeccably starched, and his shoes polished so well you could see your own reflection in them. His face seemed hardened by time and experience; he looked bitter, even a little sad. But the most striking feature about his face was his eyes: they seemed to shine with a fierce passion, a burning desire, but for what? As he talked to us about the extensive course requirements, his high expectations, and the heavy workload, we all fidgeted with nervousness in our seats. He spoke with a grim sense of determination, and we listened with a sense of impending doom. But then, suddenly, his voice changed, and his eyes glowed with more intensity than ever before. He told us about his love for biology, and how much he wished that he could impart it to us. He told us about the beauty of the complexity of life in every organism from a delicate butterfly to a steadfast giant sequoia. He was so excited about the recent developments in molecular biology and genetics, but his enthusiasm seemed sincere and real: it wasn’t just the over-caffeinated perkiness of a cheerful kindergarten teacher; it was a genuine love for learning and discovery. The assignments were long and difficult: in the first week itself we were required to memorize the entire periodic table and recite it to the class. Day after day, week after week, students faltered in class, and they were embarrassed: it seemed worse because he didn’t yell; he simply stared at you sternly yet sadly, and calmly called on the next person.