Bob was a marvelous teacher. He could parody incorrect movements in an absolutely hilarious way, which enabled his students to see the mistakes that they (and others) were making. He was also very thorough. He showed how every movement of the form is connected to the martial arts elements of Tai Chi, in which a person uses Tai Chi to fight with another person. Each move in the form is based on a move made when fighting, but Tai Chi is a "soft" martial art, and, as it is traditionally practiced, is actually more a kind of meditation in motion than a way of fighting. Bob explained everything, then, and enabled his students to see where the moves they were learning came from.

He had studied with some of the greatest Tai Chi masters and frequently discussed them and the way they taught Tai Chi. Bob seemed to be a natural teacher, always asking students if they had any questions (and when they did, he offered elaborate answers to make sure they understood everything). He was always improvising, always trying something new. He had the instincts of the best teachers who always are looking for a better way of getting their students involved in what is being taught, always looking for a clearer way of explaining things.

I was, in some ways, I should add, a dedicated student. I hardly ever missed a class (although I missed one when I had a graduate seminar over to my house) and I was fascinated by Tai Chi. Despite moments of inattention and lassitude, I actually enjoyed the classes a great deal, until I hurt my knee and had to stop doing Tai Chi. Still, as a student, I seemed to be very happy to shift any burden of responsibility for my learning onto Bob's shoulders. Sometimes I couldn't follow his explanations, didn't understand, exactly, his answers to questions, and even found my mind wandering a bit.