"In Memory of Professor Noah Haiduc-Dale" by Joseph Hamway

I first enrolled in one of Noah’s classes in the spring of 2023 — A History of 9/11. I remember being struck right away by how different his teaching style was: laid-back, unconventional, open, and deeply conversational. 

He created a space where learning didn’t feel like memorizing dates or facts, but rather uncovering hidden stories and perspectives I had never been exposed to. He went into great detail, answering questions I didn’t even know I had, and helped me understand how that single day was shaped by decades of conflict that led to such a terrible turning point in U.S. history.

That first class showed me Noah wasn’t just the typical Centenary professor — he was someone truly unique. I left each session feeling more curious, more challenged, and more connected to the material. I would even talk to friends and family about it outside of class, and how much it was intriguing me. The field trips he planned quickly became my favorite part of every class, and I’ll never forget the way he convinced me that becoming a history minor was possible if I just took four courses. I was hooked!

Later that year, I took Public History with him, and that’s when I really began to see the depth of who Noah was. His teaching was about life, perspective, and the kind of kindness that stays with you forever. Our trips to places like Waterloo Village, the 9/11 Memorial & Museum, Reformed Church of Highland Park, and the American Museum of Natural History are some of my richest memories from my time at Centenary.

I’ll never forget the day he drove us into New York City for the Museum of Natural History trip. Walking through the museum with him, I was so amazed that I actually returned the very next day with friends, telling them: “You’ve got to see this place.” Ever since, the museum has become one of my favorite spots in the city. Now that I live here in NYC, I still visit often — and every time, I think of Noah.

Another memory that stays with me happened on our trip to Waterloo Village. We were riding along a quiet backroad back to school when we passed a broken-down car with kids standing outside. Without hesitation, Noah pulled the van over to the side, got out, and offered his help. They didn’t need it, but when he got back in he said something I’ll never forget: “That’s something I’ll always do — it doesn’t matter who or what. If I see someone stuck or in need, I’ll always offer to help.” That moment captured exactly who he was: kind, selfless, and always looking out for others, whether they were strangers or his students. It was remarkable. 

I also adored how Noah shared music with us. He’d play tons of songs before classes started, filling the room with warmth and energy. To this day, whenever I hear “Send Me On My Way” by Rusted Root, “Pride (In the Name of Love)” by U2, or “Hopeless Wanderer” by Mumford & Sons, I immediately think of him. He even played banjo for us sometimes, especially folk songs like “This Land Is Your Land” by Woody Guthrie. Those songs and more now hold such deep meaning for me. They inspired me to create a Spotify playlist (long before he even passed) called History Class, which I still play when I want to relive those moments — the laughter, the history, the lessons, and the folksy Americana feeling Noah carried with him just so so naturally. It was so evident he had lived such a fruitful, great life and had thousands of stories to tell. 

Noah truly was a storyteller, a mentor, and a friend. I loved hearing his stories about travel, his studies, and living in New York — and I wish more than anything I had the chance to catch up with him about life now. I’m sad I couldn’t talk to him at all post grad. I had hoped to see him at Commencement in 2025, but I’ll always hold onto the memory of interviewing him for the Cyclone Chronicle during his Israel/Gaza talk in the Fall of 2024 that one final time. He worried that student turnout was low, but I was proud to assure him that the campus was listening. That night and that article mean so much more to me now.

I’ve never met anyone quite like Noah, and I don’t think I ever will again. He was selfless, brilliant, approachable, and endlessly generous with his time and knowledge. He wanted his students not just to learn, but to live their lives fully and thoughtfully. I’ll always wish I had spoken with him more, asked more questions, and learned more from him — but I know the lessons he gave us will stay with me forever.

Thank you, Noah, for the memories, the music, the kindness, and the lessons!! I’ll miss your classes dearly, but I’ll try to keep learning in your honor, always.

Joseph Hamway was an inaugural member of The Cyclone Chronicle, former managing editor, and prolific feature and music review writer. He graduated in December 2024 with a B.A. in writing.