Eugene Gotwalt says he is a classic liberal. Neither Democrat nor Rebublican, he favors small government, lots of freedom.

Whatever label applies, his story is one of a little government going a long way. The assistant economics professor's circuitous road to Sweet Briar College began in the boss's office at Delta Color Labs in Lancaster County, Pa. He and his wife, Mellody, also a Delta employee, learned they were being laid off.

"We went from making good money to being instantaneously poor," Gotwalt recalled. But with three children at home, their circumstances also meant they qualified for government grants.

The couple used state and federal grants to finish undergraduate degrees at nearby Millersville University. "I took my first econ course and said, 'This is fun.' I decided I wanted to be a college professor," he said.

Gotwalt arrived at Sweet Briar in the fall of 2003 via the University of Mary Washington and a few other adjunct teaching posts. Last summer he secured a tenure-track position at SBC. If student recognition is any indicator, his assimilation was rapid, as they presented him with the Connie Burwell White Excellence in Teaching Award at the 2005 Commencement ceremony. For the marketing manager-turned-economics professor, it meant he was worthy of his job.

"I am appreciative and humbled by it," Gotwalt said. "But I do not accept that I was the best teacher at Sweet Briar for the 2004-2005 school year, or even the most popular. I took the award as recognition that I am good enough to be on the faculty. We have an outstanding group of instructors on this campus."

Still, the father of four daughters — Jamie and Rashyna, both grown with children of their own, Angelic, married and a veterinarian in Iowa, and Rachel, a rising SBC sophomore — has endeared himself to Sweet Briar students.

"He cares about his students," said Collean Laney '04, an economics major. "Some professors want to be your friend, others want you to be afraid of them. Dr. Gotwalt genuinely wants his students to understand economics."

Gotwalt said he does care — about his students and his subject — and students can tell. "One thing I always get on my evaluations is my passion. I'm very passionate about my teaching, my views. I don't think my students ever think I'm giving them a bunch of BS. I'm speaking my mind, this is what I believe and, eh, they just seem to appreciate it," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Why economics?

"The clarity," he said. "That I no longer had to depend upon the talking heads on television. I could decide for myself if the government does this, what will happen. I just do my own analysis. It's a good way of teaching how to think.

"For democracy to work it takes a well-informed electorate and my job is not to tell [students] what they should think, but to give them a method for deciding for themselves," he said.

Like her friend Laney, Maud Pinter '05 found Gotwalt always willing to help outside the classroom, too. She came to know him during smoke breaks outside Benedict Hall — a habit he concedes hasn't hurt his standing among students. The teacher campaigned to sign her up for his Public Choice course by enlisting other students to pressure her. "After a week, I caved," she said, noting that, while a disciplined student, she's hardly an econ type.

To register for the 300-level class, she convinced her adviser that through frequent between-class chats she had taken the equivalent of the prerequisite courses. "He talks about it all the time. There's always something he can talk about and it's got to relate to economics," Pinter said.

Gotwalt earned his doctorate at George Mason University. He studied with James Buchanan, a Nobel Prize winner and developer of the "public choice theory" of economics, whose ideas on collective decision-making were a natural fit. Gotwalt already had fully formed ideas of the world and earned his bachelor's degrees in economics and political science. "It's hard for me to separate the two," he said.

When he isn't pondering one or the other, he and his wife research their family genealogies, which they can trace to Colonial America. The couple also works on 17 wooded acres in Amherst County, where they plan to build a home.

This summer Gotwalt is researching teaching methods to expose the fun side of economics. He already uses tactics such as song lyrics or introducing controversy to engender interest and generate the all-important discourse. "Most people say they hate it," he said. "My students don't hate econ."

Relevancy matters, too. News headlines spark conversations that, if he does his job, spill beyond the classroom. If the topic is the national deficit, he points out that the United States went into debt in 1796. Segueing into the difference between borrowing for investment versus consumption, he cites the thousands he owes for his post-graduate education. "Was it stupid for me to take on that debt? Well, no, because I wouldn't be talking to you," he tells students.

His approach worked for Laney. "I can say firsthand, that [econ] classes can be pressure cookers of fear and uncertainty," she said. "Dr. Gotwalt uses a unique methodology to help students realize the practical side of economics while keeping the classroom attitude light-hearted and fun."