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I’d like to begin with a quote from my friend and colleague, Dave Harley. Dave began his career at McDonogh School at about the same time as Bob Seigman. Dave wrote:

“Back in the age of giants, McDonogh seemed to have a policy of keeping the giants and then hiring young teachers whom the school expected to stay for a couple of years and then move on. Late in the 1960’s those young teachers started to stay – young pups, wet behind the ears, full of ideas, but really having no clue of what to do or of what was in front of them. Bob Seigman was one of those young teachers. He came; he stayed. And when the giants, men like White and Ramsey and Smoot Senior, when those men retired, Bob filled the vacuum left by their departure.”

Smoot Senior, my dad, taught Bob Seigman, Bob Seigman taught me, I taught Bob’s daughter, Melissa, and Bob, just this year, taught my daughter, Brielle. When you think about it, we end up teaching our own kids by teaching others.

My dad, Smoot Senior, wrote:

“A conscientious student and full participant in the life of the school, Bob Seigman suffered from a physical handicap beginning in his junior year at McDonogh. Most of the people who came into contact with Bob over the years had no inkling of his handicap. He never used it as an excuse or to solicit sympathy from any one. As a teacher, Bob used the Socratic method in a conversational style. He was a favorite of students because he always treated their contributions in class as worthy of serious consideration. Bob lent a sympathetic ear to students who sought him out whether the problem was academic, social, or athletic. He was the ultimate nonjudgmental listener.”

Several of my colleagues would concur with my dad, but once upon a time, as new young teachers in the late 70’s and early 80’s, a few of us would have to say that it took us a while to figure out that Bob was as approachable as previously described. Smoot senior and Bob Seigman, back in the day, were tall, dark, and intimidating men. Poor Bob Mahon. His classroom at the time was sandwiched between the two of them and he was basically in awe of their commanding presence. Sometimes they were even known to growl. Soon, however, Bob Mahon, I, and others learned that beneath that grim exterior, Bob Seigman was a big, caring teddy bear who was always in your corner when you needed him to be there.

I have always been amazed at the incredible number of responsibilities that Bob would take on simultaneously. But more incredible than the sheer number of jobs, was his ability to somehow expertly juggle them all and do them all well. He was a multi-tasker before laptops and cell phones. In addition to his departmental, academic, professional, coaching, and family duties, he assisted hundreds of students in college selection. The number of college recommendation letters he wrote must exceed a thousand.

Bob’s interest in biological education went far beyond the classroom. He acted as a book reviewer for several professional organizations. He was one of the pioneers in the Advanced Placement Biology program, serving as an examination reader, table leader, and question leader, as well as a consultant to the College Board. Bob was a frequent presenter at Advanced Placement Biology conferences. He also served as the president of the Maryland chapter of the National Association of Biology Teachers. Bob was as well-read as any teacher I know in the life sciences. His interest in environmental concerns went beyond lip service in the classroom. He was a financial contributor and volunteer in Maryland environmental projects. He worked with the Chesapeake Bay Foundation from its inception and for many years served on the board of Save Our Streams.

Bob was my teacher, my mentor, my colleague, and most of all, a good friend. We not only taught at McDonogh together, we also team taught biology for a few years in the evenings at Carroll Community College. We went together to conferences, planted tree buffers, planned curriculum, and shot the breeze about evolution, theology, philosophy, and all sorts of other topics. He was never afraid to let you know what his opinion was on the matter.

To my dad, Bob Seigman was a friend as well. Smoot Senior explained to me how he and Bob tended to be props for each other when things were not going well. Over the years they also had many long talks on all kinds of topics: scientific, academic, and philosophical. In this more intimate contact, we learned that Bob’s family was of utmost importance to him. His concern for his girls, Carrie and Melissa, was intense and constant. His family will miss his care and guidance. So will we.

To my science colleagues, Martin, Bob Mahon, Andy, JB, Lee, Jenn, Tom, and others from years gone by, he was a mentor, leader, and father-figure. He catalyzed the closeness that we all feel in our department. Bob had high expectations for himself and for us. He pushed us to reach our potential.

When giants retire, their touching of student lives becomes past tense. New students come in; new faculty are hired. The memories of the giants fade from the collective memory of the school, to be preserved by ever fewer alumni and faculty colleagues. But Bob Seigman had not finished touching the lives of his students and his advisees and his fellow faculty members. Our memories of Bob are more recent. They are of the present, not of the past – of four weeks ago, not thirty years. His sudden loss gives us added grief, but he continues to live in us through his teaching, counseling, and love of life. We will miss him dearly.

As a final thought, Bob used to like to equate the entire history of the earth to one hour. He would explain how, in this analogy we (mankind) had only been around for less than one ten-thousandth of a second. What an impact he had in his fraction of a second!