One of the worst Psychology teachers I ever had in the 1970s was B., an obsessive-compulsive, lay nun who was extremely biased against non-Christians and always insisted on having the last word even if she was terribly wrong. Her habit was to copy entire textbooks by hand and then pass those voluminous sheets off as her lecture notes--she read from them asloud in class.

B. was my practicum adviser in Clinical Psychology. She decided that I should spend my practicum hours in the Guidance Office of the university's high school department. Its director at the time was a Father Duffy.

B. went through the formality of sending Father Duffy a memorandum outlining the course's requirements and expectations. Two weeks later she was thrown off her seat when Father Duffy replied that his office could not accommodate practicum students.

In every class session we had thereafter B. kept rubbing her palms together and asking the walls, "What shall we do about Father Duffy? What shall we do about Father Duffy?"

To the best of my knowledge B. no longer teaches in the Psychology Department. It is safe for me to assume, however, that, if she is still alive, she continues to have a tortured mind.