The Jedi returns,
by Rubén Azócar

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        My maternal grandmother, Celia —whom we affectionately called la Mamina— was an exceptional educator. She taught generations of young children their first letters and numbers. She was the perfect blend of nurturing maternal love: affectionate, yet firm — very firm. I was not only one of her students, but also had the joy of watching her in action for many years and learning from her the true art of teaching and educating.

Even though during my years at Loyola in Caracas I helped my classmates —I especially remember teaching organic chemistry to “Chucho and Cifu,” great friends and even better surfers— I mistakenly thought that choosing a medical career would take me away from teaching.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. The seed of teaching that Mamina planted in me grew during medical school and became an inseparable part of my practice. Whether clarifying a concept in pharmacology or physiology, demonstrating a physical exam maneuver, or guiding someone through their first suture, I realized that by teaching I wasn’t just helping a fellow student —I was reinforcing my own knowledge and clinical skills.

Throughout my career, that passion for teaching remained alive. As a resident, I was recognized by the medical students rotating through the anesthesiology service. As a program director and later department chair, I received the same recognition from residents.

In 2020, I chose a different path and took on a high-level administrative role at one of Boston’s hospitals. And while my team and I achieved significant progress, I still felt a void I couldn’t quite identify —until I realized it was the absence of teaching. I tried to fill that gap by giving lectures and talks, but it was only a partial fix.

Just over a year ago, I took a few days for a personal retreat. After some deep reflection, I rediscovered that my passion and purpose were not only to heal or relieve pain but also to teach and train the next generation of healthcare professionals.

So, after nearly 30 years in Boston, I decided to return to academic life —this time in New Orleans, as Chair of the Department of Anesthesiology at Tulane University.

Because, in the end, one of my greatest satisfactions has been seeing most of my students go on to have successful careers —and in some cases, even surpass their teacher. As my grandmother once told me: “I’m here to help you cross the bridge. And once you do, I stay on this side, happy and ready to teach the next student”.

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