“Allan’s enthusiasm for ornithology and naturalist observation is something that infects even the most reluctant students. I am forever grateful for his willingness to lead outings and guide nature walks outside of the classroom. Birdwatching has become my chief hobby.” 

“Allan’s emphasis on applicable skills, curiosity, and bringing course material to life — whether through dawn bird calls, ornitherapy breaks, or poetic discussion prompts — shaped my college experience and how I see the world.” 

“Allan is the epitome of the scholar-teacher, balancing high academic standards with deep care for students and colleagues.” 

“His passion for ornithology and naturalist observation is contagious — even reluctant students walk away with a love for birding.”

“The model of a positive, authentic and successful University faculty member.” 

As an undergraduate, I wish I had known how much faculty members are engaged in, how they didn't just show up and try to trip us up with exams. They really wanted to teach us, just like my colleagues and I do now. I would have been more grateful for what it takes for faculty to do the full range of what they do - staying available for helping when needed, staying current with the content for their field of knowledge and all the background that takes. And I really regret not understanding how much faculty want to help. I'd tell my younger self what I hope my students today know, that faculty really want you to learn! They should come to office hours and engage in conversation. This is what we as faculty are here for, and I was a fine enough student, but I would have accessed so much more if I had understood what was really possible. And what about the inclusivity that so many nominators mentioned? One really important thing I've learned is to appreciate that people come to their love of birding and nature very differently. I'm a little embarrassed now when I remember an undergraduate student who excitedly told me that he had been walking down Church St. and saw a hawk divebombing, hunting sparrows right in the middle of this semi-urban setting. I got excited too and asked him what kind of hawk it was, and then I couldn't fathom how he could be excited about it when he didn't know what kind of hawk it was! But that was that student’s special moment: he saw birds and nature up close, in action, and in a unique setting. That was a turning point for inclusivity, really. Just coming to understand that people experience nature in their own way. Another realization has come somewhat naturally as our school's demographics have been really changing, and an awareness of how different people with different identities are finding their way in our fields. The wildlife field used to be dominated by hunting and fishing culture, and very male.  But now students come in motivated by different interests, like wildlife rehabilitation. Now I think about how I give students an assignment, and whether they're going to be going out in the field alone, and we're aware that some students can really benefit from a loan of gear, not making the assumption that everyone comes from the kind of privilege that means they show up ready with all of the equipment right at hand. So at Rubenstein we have the gear library - heavy boots, rain gear, binoculars, snowshoes - so students are ready to get out there. But one of the most gratifying things about our school, really the most gratifying change I’ve seen, is the way the conversation about inclusion is normalized and decentralized. And our field supports that. I’ve got a lecture in which I talk about this in birding terms, how we can focus on the hawk that’s 1000 feet above us, but you can also focus on the house sparrows that are right around you. This helps us see identities in the room in an authentic way, and that's a great place for birders to be.