matter. A crude assembly program led him to write to the dean of faculty: “As for the gratuitous violence, the disgraceful racist and sexist stereotyping, and the vapid and dangerous romanticizing of druggies, well . . . my blood is boiling right now.” He also had the cheek, if that’s what it was, to write on an annual workload update sheet under the category, “Other student-related activities”: “I make them up as I go along.” As time passed, Rick and Pam emerged as a true partnership in this educational setting, particularly as Pam solidified her position as a study skills expert on campus, teaching groups of non-native speakers of English while tutoring individual students in all manner of academic challenges. It should come as no surprise that, in letters of tribute to Rick, came tributes to Pam as well, such as: “I can’t describe how pivotal your role was in [getting me through] my toughest years at Exeter” and “You are one of the sweetest, most loving people I have ever known.” The annual cookie party at the Parrises’ home literally brought people together from all parts of the campus and provided them delicious fare; but metaphorically, it ...the world of was their way of taking care of us all, a community they mathematics teaching saw as family. As to their immediate family, Priscilla Parris McCorwas changed for the mack ’01 has introduced us to “the part of my father that better by Rick Parris. he reserved for his family.” His demeanor was as calm and logical at home as it was in the classroom, and he taught in short and loving lessons. On her chasing a ball into a street: “We can always get another ball; we can’t get another Priscilla.” On her claiming that “all classical music [was] so stupid”: “You’ll like it more as you grow up, [though] first you’ll like jazz.” And then there was “Vacation Dad”: the dad whom Rick became “for a precious few weeks each year”; the man who would emerge laughing frantically, even his lower teeth showing, when Donald O’Connor began his frenetic rendition of “Make ’Em Laugh” in Singin’ in the Rain. That was the dad who accompanied Pamela “Jane” Parris ’97 to the U.S. Open at Flushing Meadows so she could see in real life her beloved tennis heroes.That was the dad who reassured the girls when they worried that there would be “no scrap of him left for us.” Still the outpouring of tributes after Rick’s death produced from Priscilla the following thanks: “I know now that you all appreciated him.That every ounce of himself that he poured into the Academy was, in fact, as dear to you as it was to him.That none of this was in vain.That it all meant something. So I want to say thank you.Thank you, all—for allowing my dad to do exactly what he wanted to do.” In a letter dated January 2012, Rick and Pam had made the following reassuring declaration: “We love our work and have no plans to retire.” Rick’s death intervened on October 23, 2012, but the school is fortunate that Pam is willing and able to continue her work on behalf of the students. And Rick’s legacy itself is still teaching us, from the array of materials he produced for the Math Department, which the department still uses, and in the way he lived his life.We have lost “the original” Rick Parris that Don Dunbar wrote of in 1980, but the influence of this brilliant and committed teacher lives on, both locally and globally. A self-effacing man from New England, who loved the landscape he grew up in, shaped the educational landscape of places known to him only electronically. It is not an overstatement to say that the world of mathematics teaching was changed for the better by Rick Parris. The physicist previously quoted summed up her gratitude for having Rick as her teacher: “An interesting thing about some giant stars is that when they die, they become millions of pieces that travel in all directions all across the universe. The extraordinary energy contained in that giant star allows the pieces to travel away with new chemical elements that form when smaller elements are combined.” How lucky we were to have him as one of our “giant stars” for more than 30 years. This Memorial Minute was written by Eric Bergofsky ’79, ’83 (Hon.); P’98, P’02, chair; David Arnold ’83 (Hon.); Dale Braile P’10; Gwyn Coogan ’83; P’11, P’17; Peter Greer ’58; ’71, ’81, ’83, ’97, ’00 (Hon.); P’81, P’83, P’94; and David Weber ’71, ’74, ’83 (Hon.); P’92, and was presented at faculty meeting on September 9, 2013. FALL 2013
The Exeter Bulletin
95