In Memory of Noah — Mentor, Teacher, and Friend

When I look back on my years at Centenary University, from 2014 to 2018, the memories blur together — long nights of studying, laughter with friends, and the thrill of learning something new. But among all those moments, one person stands out vividly: Noah.

I first really got to know him outside the classroom when a friend and I decided to revive the History Club. We were searching for a faculty advisor, and it turned out Noah — along with one of his former students — had already been trying to do the same. It felt like fate. From that moment, our paths kept crossing, and what began as shared enthusiasm for a club soon grew into something much deeper.

It was during my sophomore year that Noah encouraged me to take one of the biggest leaps of my life — to study abroad. That decision changed everything. While I was overseas, I decided to switch my major fully to history. I remember feeling so uncertain, so caught between excitement and fear, and spending hours talking it through with him. Noah never rushed me, never judged me — he just listened. With his quiet patience and gentle encouragement, he helped me find confidence in myself that I didn’t even know was there. From that moment on, he wasn’t just my advisor. He became my mentor… and truly, my friend.

So many memories flood back when I think of him. His infectious laugh. The way he would strum his banjo in class just because it brought joy to the room. The day he showed up in costume to take the History Club to the New York Renaissance Faire — absolutely in character and loving every second of it. Noah had this incredible ability to make learning feel alive, to remind you that history wasn’t just something that happened — it was something you could feel.

One of my favorite memories is from my junior year, when Noah introduced a brand-new course called The Crusades. He was practically glowing with excitement because he wanted to teach it like a live-action game. Each of us was assigned a historical figure, and we had to “become” that person for the semester. It was complete chaos — the best kind. I remember asking him if he’d ever done something like that before. He grinned from ear to ear and said, “Nope! You’re my test subjects, so pay attention and give me feedback!” No pressure, right? But it turned out to be one of my favorite classes of all time.

A year later, he asked me to sit in again. Watching him refine the course, seeing the pride in his face as the students engaged and debated — it still makes me smile whenever I think about it. That was Noah in a nutshell: always evolving, always experimenting, always passionate about helping others discover the joy he found in learning.

I could fill pages with stories like these, and it still wouldn’t capture the whole of who he was. Noah wasn’t just a brilliant teacher — he was the kind of person who saw people. He had this rare gift of finding the good in everyone and nurturing it. He saw potential in me long before I did, and his belief in me changed the way I saw myself.

Noah was truly one in a million. His optimism, his curiosity, and his kindness left a mark on everyone who had the privilege of knowing him. I’ll always carry with me the lessons he taught — not just about history, but about patience, courage, and compassion.

He made the world a brighter place just by being in it. And though he’s no longer here, that light — his laughter, his kindness, his unshakable faith in others — will keep shining in the lives of everyone he touched.

Thank you, Noah. For your wisdom, your friendship, and your heart. You’ll never be forgotten.

Chloe Zarcone is a Centenary alumnus, Class of 2018, with a bachelor's in history.