"In Memory of Professor Noah Haiduc-Dale" by Kayla Diee

The first time I met Dr. Haiduc-Dale, I was struck by his kindness. His smile was easy, his greeting welcoming, his sweater an apple red that felt like a nod to Mr. Rogers. He stood in the heart of the library, surrounded by a ring of children beaming up at him as he strummed his banjo and sang. It wasn’t just the little ones who were sitting with rapt attention, students who were scattered around the room studying were taken by the song, too. Myself included. The folk tune felt familiar, though I had never heard it before, and it was clear to see the small community that had been coaxed together by the chorus. In that moment, we all wore the same wistful grin, all swayed in our seats to the gentle melody. 

He had the same grace at my Open Mics years later, though with a bit more flare. His folk songs made their appearance, but his banjo would be tucked away in its case for the improvised additions to his routine, his most notable of which was a rendition of a Nicki Minaj rap. When he stepped up into the spotlight, Noah didn’t seem to have any nerves. He wasn’t performing, he was sharing. He lent us his wonder for the arts every time he laughed with crinkled eyes and launched into a new song with a precursor of, “Okay, this will be a fun one.”

Noah had the same natural command over an audience in the classroom, and he nurtured our curiosity by incessantly asking “why.” It was not sufficient to draw a link between ideological movements of different eras or provide a surface-level observation about what a piece of clothing indicated about the time’s sociocultural values. You had to get it, and care to know more. He encouraged understanding by welcoming questions, and never shying away from questioning you. It was refreshing to have a professor that worked so earnestly to share his passions with others, and within weeks of a course starting you could feel that spark of interest grow throughout the class. 

Noah carried that spark into everything else he did on campus, and never shied away from it. In a time when discussion of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict was particularly volatile on college campuses and many took the cautious route of saying nothing at all, he led a public lecture on the roots of the occupation and hosted discussion groups. He did both as he did everything else: with total empathy. I remember stopping by his office to tell him I thought he was brave for doing so, and he just shrugged off the praise and said, “It matters.” 

If nothing else, I hope that’s the sentiment that we all learned from Noah and will carry with us. Our “small” acts of kindness matter. Our leaps of faith to advocate for the voiceless matter. Our efforts to understand and honor others matters. He encompassed the power of being a teacher by priding himself on forever being a student, and lived as an example of good citizenship through his compassion and humble acts of courage. Dr. Haiduc-Dale was the best of Centenary and the best of men, and his legacy is one that should inspire us all to be our best and most curious selves.

Kayla Diee was an inaugural member of The Cyclone Chronicle, served as editor-in-chief in Fall of her last semester at Centenary, was a prolific feature writer, and graduated in December of 2024 with a bachelor's in writing.