The Classes That Never Leave You

Sometimes memories cling to the senses. For Elizabet Bogomolova ’23, the unforgettable sound was “ROCKKK,” the cry that accompanied the plush lizard Doc Martin hurled when a Latin translation faltered. His classroom was an alternative universe, layered with Roman armor, Little Debbie boxes and rules scrawled in Latin, including the one that excused tardiness if accompanied by Dunkin’. Yet beneath the humor and theatricality, Latin demanded focus and precision. “There was Peddie and the great classes I had there,” Bogomolova said,” but separately there was Doc’s world,” a world where mastery was as entertaining as it was rigorous.

That’s the thing about the classes that stick. They transcend curriculum and linger in memory. Across generations, Peddie alumni summon classroom moments with astonishing clarity. Goosebumps, breakthroughs, laughter and challenge — they all trace back to courses that were never just about the lesson plan.

The Worlds Within Worlds

From Latin and literature to drama and debate, Peddie teachers sparked curiosity, confidence and lifelong passions.

David “Doc” Martin’s Latin classes, spanning five decades at Peddie, combined discipline and surprise in ways that defied convention. Students never knew what might come next: a stuffed lizard airborne or dice rolled to pick the next translator. Beneath the antics, students learned quickly or fell behind. Bill Bunting ’82 called it “the perfect balance of fun and seriousness.” Dani Shylit ’89 remembered a “delightful romp” where “each class moment was rife with the unexpected.”

Jeffrey “Harry” Holcombe’s speech and drama classes worked similar magic, transforming self-conscious students into performers who commanded stages and boardrooms decades later. Al Masland ’74 still remembers pounding the floor in Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart,” learning to let his body carry the poet’s mania. For Jeffrey Epstein ’76, the class was about “getting your point or feeling across.” Roger Durling ’82 arrived at Peddie shy, still learning English, and credited Holcombe with making him “feel very empowered.” Joe Matteo ’69, now a veteran of theater and public speaking, put it simply: “With Harry’s voice in my head, it was just another day at work.”

English classes became portals to new perspectives. Bill Hill unlocked Shakespeare in ways Lauren Schnipper Rausch ’97 called transporting. Angela Smith ’89 remembered an English paper Hill marked heavily in red ink, “delivered in a way that wasn’t demoralizing, but rather challenged me to improve.” The formidable Don Roberts inspired fear and devotion in equal measure. His creative writing classes shaped authors like Thomas Keels ’72, now with seven published books. “Each week was an intense mental workout,” Keels recalled. Richard Levin ’66 still remembers Roberts’ booming laugh and sharp pragmatism, calling his class “a wonderful experience.” Warren McManus ’66 remembered Roberts bluntly challenging his writing, those critiques sharpening his voice for decades to come.

For Josina Reaves’ students, literature became a mirror. When she introduced Monique James ’00 to Toni Morrison’s “Sula,” James suddenly found her voice. “This was the class where I learned that my perspective mattered, and how to communicate it with confidence,” she said. And for Andrea Patella ’17, Matt Roach’s seminar stretched her creatively through Italo Calvino and Pixar films. “He always knew when I had something to say, and would call on me to share my thoughts before I had the chance to speak up,” she said.

Lightning Strikes

Some classes don’t just educate; they rewire entire worldviews.

For Christine Cearnal ’93, Kate Higgins’ Civil Rights class was a jolt. “The class changed my life,” she said, recalling the Freedom Rides, Emmett Till and Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches. That elective pulled her into a career spanning nonprofits and photojournalism. International student Nthato Selebi ’90 credits Higgins’ America Since 1945 with providing insights about American politics and culture she still references today.

Sometimes, revelation comes through creative pairings. Brittany Forrester ’02 took a team-taught English/History course where Erik Treese and Dave Leonardis blended literature with politics, music and art. “Their partnership and passion for the coursework were what made it so successful,” she said.

In the sciences, teachers like Ray Oram opened windows to the future. “We all celebrated the first Earth Day, and it has become a lifestyle as I pursued an advanced degree in environmental engineering, all because of Mr. Oram,” said John Michael Schumacher II ’74.

And then there’s the elegant logic of physics. Mark Gartner ’84, now a math teacher at Peddie himself, recalled Tim Corica’s Math Physics course: “You can see an apple fall from a tree. You can see things slow down when they slide across the floor,” he said. Even when he got the wrong answers, the spark was lit.

The Accidental Revelations

Sometimes, the class you take as an afterthought can change everything.

Kristen Bocina ’02 registered for Erik Treese’s Rise of Modern Africa as a schedule filler. Instead, it cracked her worldview open with hard truths about Apartheid and the Rwandan genocide. “I had signed up on a whim,” she said. “It ended up being one of the best classes I ever took.”

Nash Li ’24 picked up AP Art History at his mother’s suggestion. He dutifully memorized 250 works, and then last summer found himself in Europe chasing those pieces through cathedrals and museums. Suddenly, the class lived in stone and paint before his eyes.

Mark Hulit ’77 stumbled into Music, Art and Ideas, co-taught by Roby McClellan and Michael Imperiale, and discovered how innovation and creativity ripple across disciplines. “I have never forgotten the message,” he said, “that all innovation and creativity is interconnected.”

The Unexpected Moments

Not every memory is wrapped in a lesson plan. Some of the most lasting impressions come from spontaneous acts of grace or perfectly timed absurdity.

Sara Raisley ’02, a new sophomore from Colorado, felt lost until John Bates’ geometry class. “I finally felt like someone saw me and could see I needed acknowledgement of how difficult it was,” she remembered.

Gene Scanlan ’60 still chuckles about the day a classmate in Emerson “Zeets” Zeitler’s Mechanical Drawing class spilled ink across another student’s project. The victim hurled his t-square out the window, cursed fluently in Spanish, and trudged off to buy another. “Zeets took it all in stride,” Scanlan said.

Joe Smith ’23 speaks for many others when he praises Paul Watkins’ history classes. “Paul Watkins brings a story to life. He’s the best. Every class was fantastic.”

For Rick Gerweck ’78, history teacher Carol Lambert’s reverence for pioneers like Susan B. Anthony was unforgettable. “My face was caught between fascination and the McGrips of terror as I listened, spellbound.”

The Ones That Stay With You

“Come on, now, you can’t ask me to pick one class,” protested Kevin Weiner ’00.

For Weiner, Rosemary Gleeson’s English class anchored him to the power of writing, helping him craft his brother’s eulogy and the grants that fund his neuroscience research today. Doc Martin’s Latin class made neuroanatomy in graduate school easier to navigate. In Ray Oram’s DNA lab, he discovered the tools of science that he now teaches to the next generation.

In the end, whether it was Shakespeare’s soliloquies, Civil Rights lessons or a plush lizard flying across the room, alumni agree: The best classes never really end. They live rent-free in your head, shaping careers, convictions and the way you see the world, forever.