When I think about my university years, the first things that come to my mind are not projects, grades, or exams. It is people. Among those people, the ones who have left the deepest impression on my memory are my teachers. I have had many teachers. There were those who reduced my enthusiasm for education and learning, and there were also those who made me love their subject. But there have been very few teachers in my life whom I will remember throughout my life not only as teachers, but also as people who showed me the way. Because they also taught me how to think and how to look at life differently.
It is true that there are not many such teachers, but their role in my life is significant. I often mention the name of one of them in my blog posts. Today, I want to talk about this teacher of mine, Kazim Agabekov.
He taught me the subject of Fundamentals of Architecture. I learned from him how to begin architecture and design, and how to continue them. Unfortunately, he is no longer alive today, but he left behind hundreds of students who loved him and still remember him. He taught us not only architecture, but also literature, aesthetics, social relationships, understanding people, and how the spaces we create affect society. His first sentence in our first class was: “We are not teacher and student; we are colleagues.”
Of course, at that time, at a young age, I could not fully understand the meaning of these words. My thoughts in those years were very different from what they are today. Today, I understand that with this sentence, Kazim teacher was giving us responsibility. He approached us not as students, but as architects who would one day have an impact on cities, people’s lives, and society.
As people grow older, they begin to understand many events from the past better. Today, I remember as the best teachers those teachers whom I was dissatisfied with as a student because they were demanding. As for the teachers who demanded nothing from us and did not point out our mistakes, I have forgotten not only their names but even their faces.
It is true that Kazim teacher was not a harsh teacher either. He never hurt any student’s feelings, and even sentences that could have sounded harsh, he would soften with poetry. There was a strange sense of comfort in his classes. We could freely express our opinions, ask questions, and even disagree with the teacher’s ideas. But at the end of all that freedom, we always took something with us from every class: a thought, a new perspective.
Kazim teacher also had a wonderful habit of giving each of his students a second name. He would call each of us by that name. Sometimes he would even forget the student’s real name, but he would always remember the second name he had given them. This was also one of the unique ways he related to his students.
I must admit that the Azerbaijan State Academy of Fine Arts was a stage in my life that brought about a major change. If I had studied at another university instead of ADRA, I think the Vafa I am today would have been a very different person. The Academy shaped my outlook on life, my ability to think creatively, and my aesthetic taste. But I also understood this very late.
Sometimes we understand the role a place has played in our lives only after we move away from that place. The spirit and atmosphere of the Academy, its studios, and the way its teachers thought leave an involuntary mark inside a person. You graduate and leave, but the way of seeing the world that you gained there continues to live with you.
Kazim teacher was also one of the people who created that spirit of the Academy. He was one of those who laid the foundations of architectural education at the Academy…
You know, true architects have one characteristic: they want the city they live in to become more beautiful, more correct, and more perfect. Unlike architects who damage the appearance of a city for personal interests and money, Kazim Agabekov constantly showed us the mistakes made in the city. He explained how those buildings affected the city, the people, and the environment as a whole.
Perhaps the reason why every wrong detail I see in the city bothers me today is because of his lessons.
I do not know whether I gradually adopted this characteristic from my teacher or whether the pursuit of perfection had always been part of my character. But there is one thing I know: Kazim teacher has played a major role in the way I look at the city, architecture, and the relationship between people and space today.
Some teachers leave our lives after their classes end. Others remain with us years later through a sentence they said in the classroom, a mistake they pointed out, a piece of advice they gave, or the way of thinking they instilled in us.
Kazim teacher belonged to the second category of teachers.
Although he is no longer among us today, he continues to live in the thoughts of the students he taught, in their projects, in the way they look at the city, and in the spaces they create.
May your soul rest in peace, teacher.
You live on with us.