Several decades ago I became convinced that in a clearly foreseeable future I would find myself studying erudite books written by Kam C. Wong, who at that time was an impressive, though superannuated, graduate student. The evidence that was at hand in those days happened to be overwhelming. KC (even then, his preferred appellation) went about reading everything that was not nailed down, no matter how off-beat or esoteric. More conspicuously, he took on the self-appointed responsibility to monitor material presented in the classroom for any nuggets of enlightenment he might be able to discern. He engaged in this enterprise tirelessly and assiduously, but almost invariably did so overnight, thus demonstrating that he could do nicely without sleep. It then became his practice to arrive early on the morning after each of our classroom sessions so he could squeeze a bulky manuscript under my door for my edification and instruction. Each of these bi-weekly submissions consisted of a densely-reasoned and meticulously documented commentary on the preceding day’s lecture and discussion. Taking these documents into consideration, it would become hard to pin down exactly which of the two of us (KC or I) was teaching whom.