THE HOT PROFS : Some outstanding college teachers stimulate their students with stand-up comedy, folk songs and cruises in a Cessna

Surely everyone who went to college has a favorite professor--someone whose ability to motivate, encourage and inspire is still felt years later.

Sometimes a popular professor’s skill becomes so widely known on campus that far more students sign up for his or her course than the classroom can hold.

An informal survey of the eight institutions of higher education in the San Fernando, Santa Clarita and Antelope valleys found 10 teachers who continue to leave indelible marks in students’ memories.

Many other professors are also worthy of mention. But if a student at any of these colleges is heard raving about a teacher, chances are he or she has one of these in mind.

JULES ENGEL

CalArts

Jules Engel can’t walk down the halls of CalArts without greeting at least a dozen students by name--reciting each one’s major for the benefit of a visitor. The 65-year-old curmudgeon with a thick Hungarian accent stumbled into teaching experimental animation quite by accident, but he’s been doing it at the art institute in Valencia for 18 years.

“A friend many years ago told me once that he thought I would be a good teacher because he could tell I really cared,” Engel said. “The most important thing for me is that students feel that they are looked after and not just a number.”

In addition to teaching a full class load, Engel provides intense one-on-one tutoring to about 40 students. He gives advice whenever needed, even during breakfast and lunch on campus.

“Many mentors are more anxious to prove how much they know and so they destroy a new talent,” Engel grumbled. “They want to make clones of themselves in their students.”

To avoid repressing originality, Engel identifies a student’s talent and goals and tries to motivate the student through trust.

“It’s not what I give a student, it’s what I don’t take away from a student and how I nurture what they already have,” Engel said.

Engel is a well-known painter and an award-winning filmmaker. His paintings were included in a traveling art exhibit, “Early L.A. Modernists.”

Engel confessed that he feigns forgetfulness during his lectures when too many students seem to be looking out the window. In a recent class, for example, he pretended to forget the name of a bird in the film “The Lone Ranger.” Quickly, students jumped in to help, and he held their attention for the rest of the lecture.

“I don’t always know everything,” Engel said. “Most teachers are so damn afraid a student will ask a question that they won’t have an answer for, but that makes a teacher a human being.”

He is popular “because I’m available,” he said flatly. “If a teacher puts up fences, students are afraid to talk to you or afraid they will bother you.”

PATRICIA KEITH-SPIEGEL and DENNIS KELLY

Cal State Northridge

Every semester, psychology Prof. Patricia Keith-Spiegel and environmental health Prof. Dennis Kelly inspire some Cal State Northridge students to major in their disciplines. The professors are happy to have such an influence, but both caution about the competitive fields they teach.

“At this age, they are making serious life decisions and I love being a part of that,” said Keith-Spiegel, who also is president of the psychology teaching division of the American Psychological Assn.

Her students describe her as an “academic Carol Burnett” because of the comedy she incorporates into her 50-minute talks. She said she walks down the halls and hears teachers talk in a dull monotone, so she always tries to keep her classes lively.

“I don’t believe in corporal punishment in schools. I tell a story about when I was a 4-year-old who was swatted by a nun in Catholic school,” said Keith-Spiegel, who did studies showing how such punishment can result in aggressive behavior.

She was viewed as disrespectful, so she was hit 20 times with a ruler, although she didn’t understand why. She was ordered to sit outside near a fishpond and grew so angry she yanked a fish out of the water and watched it flip-flop to death on the concrete.

“I was a sweet, animal-loving little girl who got expelled from kindergarten,” Keith-Spiegel said. “Most of the class is rolling in the aisles when I tell it. Of course, I still feel guilty about taking out my anger on a poor, defenseless fish.”

Last year, Keith-Spiegel was chosen over 19,000 teachers in the state as California State University Outstanding Professor. She cherishes the more than 50 letters of support from students as much as the award.

Her graduate students say that although other professors delegate such tasks as correcting essay tests and term papers to teaching assistants, Keith-Spiegel insists on doing them herself for up to 100 students each semester. She has written four books--including one to help students apply to graduate school. Twenty-five years ago, after attending graduate school at the Claremont Colleges, she began teaching at CSUN; she announced that she will be leaving in the fall to teach at Ball State University in Muncie, Ind.

Kelly has developed the largest environmental and occupational health program in the world. He has directed the program for 20 years.

During his first three years as a teacher, Kelly would wake up at 4 a.m. to practice his lectures. He’s gotten comfortable with presenting his material, but must constantly update it with the latest information about every environmental topic under the sun.

“I keep refining my lectures, trying to make them more logical. After all, I give 40 lectures a semester,” Kelly said. “In school, I disliked teachers who read from notes, so I don’t do that.”

Kelly earned his master’s degree in environmental science at UC Berkeley, then worked in government offices and in national parks before coming to CSUN. Now, 200 students take his Health Science 353 elective each semester.

And although Kelly doesn’t guarantee solutions for environmental woes, he said: “I do guarantee about 50 or 60 pages of good notes that will help students in their lives once they leave the classroom.”

BOB TOLAR

College of the Canyons

Bob Tolar’s elementary algebra students looked stunned when he picked up a guitar and started singing “The Cat’s in the Cradle.”

For three years at College of the Canyons in Valencia--and for 23 years before that at the University of Northern Colorado--Tolar had been serenading his students with folk songs, relaxing them before launching into theorems and equations.

“I guess students expect a mathematics professor to be serious and stuffy,” Tolar said with a wide smile.

As he sang soothing tunes from the ‘60s and ‘70s, he told his students about the times he ignored his wife and children in order to study. “I felt guilty unless I was in the library. I suppose I went overboard. You don’t do that, do you?”

The students laughed, still intrigued by the down-to-earth style of their tall, gray-bearded, 50-year-old teacher, almost bald except for a red ponytail. “These songs came out a long time ago. I had hair back then,” he said with a wink.

In the back of the class, student Jennifer Farinella closed her book and whispered, “This certainly isn’t like the math class I took last semester.”

Tolar followed in his father’s footsteps by becoming a math teacher. After earning a bachelor’s degree at Texas A & M in 1975, he decided to teach at the college level.

“College students want to be there. If they don’t they drop out,” Tolar said. “I enjoy the exchange with students in the classroom; they are valuable people. They teach me things about life.”

After class he gave a pep talk to a student who had asked about her poor grades. She left with a smile, saying, “If I get A’s on all the next tests, I might even pull off a B, right?”

“Math can be scary and intimidating, and I try to show it’s all right to make mistakes,” he said, adding that he is a tough grader.

Sometimes, he and his wife, Debra, an Antelope Valley College speech teacher, sing together at a local club. Students pack the audience.

Back in class, at the end of his fourth song, Tolar stopped playing and the class applauded. He blushed and said, “But you don’t ever applaud like that after one of my dynamic lectures and surely I do just as good a job.”

Then they opened their books to Problem 39.

ELOISE FERNANDEZ CANTRELL

Mission College

As Eloise Cantrell passed out pear tarts and carrot cake to her food and nutrition class at Mission College in San Fernando, her students complained that they cannot stick to their diets when she teaches.

But Cantrell said she stresses care in cooking--and proper eating--to her students, who range from housewives with several children to a chef for Marriott hotels.

“My mission is to make each student a success at whatever they want to do with the skills I teach,” said Cantrell, whose shock of red hair is set off by her stained white apron.

Sixteen years ago, Cantrell, a member of the home economics department, was among the original faculty of Mission College, which soon will move to a new campus in Sylmar. Andy Mazor, academic affairs vice president, said Cantrell is one of the most talked-about teachers on campus.

“I enjoyed her child development class so much that I signed up for her food management course,” student Lali Martinez said. “She taught me how to handle my children.”

Cantrell has the equivalent of two full-time teaching jobs--with 15 hours of daytime classes each week, nine hours of night classes and at least eight hours a week in a state-funded internship program for minority students. She is often at school from 5 a.m. to 11 p.m. and meets students on Saturdays.

“It’s amazing how few programs there are to teach food preparation in both English and Spanish, and yet most managers in Los Angeles will have to deal with a crew that speaks Spanish,” said Cantrell, a Latina. “In my class, I do the material in both languages, so if you don’t speak a word of Spanish, by the end of 18 weeks, you’ll have picked up a few key phrases.”

A 75-year-old teaching assistant, Josie Montano, helps Cantrell in the kitchen classroom full of microwaves, stoves and large refrigerators (and is allowed to make mistakes).

“Once she watched as I was using the blender the wrong way and I made a complete mess,” Montano said. “Then she demonstrated the correct way.”

“I get to know my students well, and sometimes whole families sit in on my classes,” Cantrell said. Peeling a fried onion to look like a flower, she said with a sigh: “This dish is meant for a romantic dinner for two.

“It loses some of the romance when you have to cut it up 40 ways.”

STEPHEN LANGJAHR

Antelope Valley College

Although Stephen Langjahr teaches required courses for students trying to become nurses or paramedics--about 150 each semester at Antelope Valley College in Lancaster--he strives to keep his anatomy and physiology courses easy to swallow.

“The notion with a course like mine is that I just hand out the same information year after year,” Langjahr said. “But I’m always working on more efficient ways of presenting the material.”

One way is to use real cadavers--a male and a female--in class instead of plastic models or wall charts. The practice isn’t standard at other community colleges. Some professors have even criticized Langjahr, claiming that using the corpses makes a difficult class harder. But he said it helps the students.

“By my bringing in human material, students can correlate what they’ve learned,” Langjahr said. “It’s so abstract to see muscles, nerves and blood vessels on a color chart in a book. This way they can see it intact.”

He has an odd way of calculating extra credit. “Students do the dissections for me,” Langjahr said.

Langjahr studied at Cal State San Bernardino and Cal State Long Beach and always knew that he wanted to teach. “Teachers are just as important as medical practitioners. It shouldn’t be a second choice for people who don’t make it into the profession,” he said.

He started in his present job in 1972, after graduate school at Long Beach, and every semester since then has been different.

“It’s a pleasure to watch students discover that science is not just cramming factual information and formulas in their heads,” Langjahr said.

LINDA NIBLEY and LEONARD DeGRASSI

Glendale College

When English composition Associate Prof. Linda Nibley and art history Prof. Leonard DeGrassi aren’t in class at Glendale College, they might be performing classic scenes for teachers, students or civic groups. He teaches her about art; she teaches him how to act. Students chose both last year for the Most Distinguished Faculty Award.

“It’s amazing I was honored because I teach a classically boring class,” said DeGrassi, who for 40 years has taught such technical courses as early Renaissance, Mesopotamian history, hieroglyphics and medieval art. “If I didn’t teach it differently each time, I’d get bored myself.”

A dapper dresser always in a business suit, tie and vest, DeGrassi gestures enthusiastically as he explains about buttresses and Isadoros of Miletus. His style was helped by Nibley, who for 25 years was an actress known as Linda Stirling.

Students find Nibley’s movies and Western serials in video stores. She was a female Zorro, a jungle princess and an ingenue terrorized by spacemen in “The Purple Monster Strikes.” In her office, she has a movie poster of herself in “The Mysterious Mr. Valentine.”

“My work has haunted me,” said Nibley, who dreams of making an acting comeback. “Maybe I get overly dramatic and hammy from time to time.”

“She takes time to explain things to a student who may be a bit confused,” said Veloris Lang, chairwoman of the language arts department, who has an office next to Nibley. “I’ve sat in her classes sometimes when she recites poetry and sometimes it brings tears to my eyes.”

Nibley was hooked by academia after attending UCLA while acting, and turned down parts as she earned a master’s degree in English.

“I had played teachers in the movies, but when I became one, I was way over my head,” said Nibley, who was recently honored as Teacher of the Year by the Glendale Chamber of Commerce.

When she started, the dean who gave her her big break in teaching said he expected her to be more dynamic.

She replied: “You just have to give me a chance to learn my lines.”

MIKE CORNNER

Pierce College

Mike Cornner tells his classes at Pierce College in Woodland Hills that a basic rule of journalism is to always have enough pens. During a mass communications lecture, he will slowly pull out pens--from his jacket, his shirt, his shoes--20, 30, 40 or more.

What starts off as a surprise to students turns into hysterical laughter.

Cornner teaches basic journalism at Pierce and this year won the California Newspaper Publishers Assn. Teachers’ Award. He is also the adviser to the school newspaper, The Roundup.

“I tell everyone I know to take his classes,” said student Debbie Pool, Roundup photo editor. “I wouldn’t want to go to these classes if it were any other teacher.”

Using his experiences as a magazine free-lancer, a public relations man for the cities of Anaheim and Cerritos, a radio and television reporter in Washington and a writer for the Simi Valley Enterprise, Cornner has persuaded students such as Pool to become journalists.

Having taught since 1969 after graduating from Northwestern University and winning a few journalism awards, Cornner admitted to being demanding.

“I don’t believe in giving good grades when it’s not deserved. They will eventually find out if they’re good when they are in the field, so I might as well be honest now,” he said.

In the past, his students have compiled and published his most memorable quotes and advice. He also has compiled funny stories from students who have entered the field.

“Journalism is the most important work you can do,” Cornner said. “It has a more positive impact than anything a judge can do. It can save more people than a doctor; it can right more wrongs than any lawyer.”

RICHARD RASKOFF

Valley College

Forget about globes. When geography Prof. Richard Raskoff of Valley College in Van Nuys wants to show his students the lay of the land, he takes them up a few thousand feet in the air.

Raskoff takes four students at a time in a tiny Cessna to point out mountain ranges, the San Andreas Fault, dry riverbeds and other things usually seen only on maps.

“His classes always are overfilled and he’s one of the most flamboyant teachers we have,” said the college’s academic affairs dean, Angelo Villa.

On a recent outing, Raskoff took four oceanography students whale watching from his plane. For extra credit, he has taken students on hikes, bike trips, grunion runs, camping trips and drives to ghost towns.

“I didn’t need to take oceanography, but after I took his first class, I had to take another one,” said Terry Norton, who wrote an English class essay about Raskoff, describing him as a “nutty professor” who often dresses like a cowboy. “It’s not just a class, it’s an adventure,” she wrote.

With tinted aviator goggles and a Minolta strapped around his neck to take pictures from the sky, Raskoff said jokingly that he has to bribe students with extra credit to go flying with him. The 53-year-old professor has had his job since 1963, after earning his master’s degree in geography at CSUN, and he has been flying since 1967.

“His classes aren’t the kind you fall asleep in,” said Scott Spiro, 19, who is learning to be a pilot because of Raskoff.

“I heard about Dr. Raskoff being discussed in other classes; that’s why I chose his class,” Denise Devine said. “Everybody talks about him.”

Raskoff has an infamous penchant for Dr. Pepper. Students bring sodas to class for him and a distributor once gave him a case.

“I try to make learning fun,” Raskoff said about his teaching quirks. “I treat them like my friends.”

And why does he dress in a tuxedo during final exams? Raskoff smiled. “They don’t get mad at me when I dress formal.”