By B. P. Gibson
What would you do if you were the dean at the University of Arizona and a teenager walked into your office asking you to allow him to attend the university even though he had no formal education, no high school diploma, and no schooling whatsoever? What would you say to him?
I think just about anyone in their right mind would say, “Heck, no! Go get your GED!” Here is what really happened.
It was late August or early September 1946. World War II ended only twelve months earlier. Having served as Dean of Men for several years, Dean_Otis knew young men from the University of Arizona who went to war, never to return. However, that day, Dean Otis had more weightier thoughts on his mind. He had been diagnosed with cancer and given only a short time to live, a secret he kept from his colleagues and fellow school administrators. He continued showing up to work each day, no doubt feeling quite ill and emotionally distraught at his futureless fate.
At age sixteen, tall, lengthy Larry walked into the dean’s office and introduced himself, oblivious to the dean’s plight. Larry explained he was a simple farm boy who spent his youth helping his family with their farm and never had the chance to go to school. Larry wanted admission into the University of Arizona but had been turned down. Someone told him if Dean Otis approved Larry’s enrollment, he could attend the university. Larry promised to excel and told Dean_Otis he would not be disappointed. Larry begged for the dean’s consent, knowing it was his last hope for admission.
All the while, Dean_Otis listened while feeling quite ill. Maybe he just wanted to get rid of this kid who was so determined and adamant it seemed he would not leave until he had his desired answer. Perhaps the dean weighed his options. Why not give this young man a chance? The dean knew he only had a short time to live. If this farm boy failed and flunked out of his first semester, no one would ridicule or reprimand the dean for making such a foolish decision. After all, no one would bother to chastise a dead man. For whatever reason, Dean_Otis relented and gave his consent. Less than two months later, on October 22nd, the dean succumbed to the malignancy that gnawed away at his body.
I was a sophomore at Palo_Verde_High_School in Tucson, Arizona during the 1964-65 school year when Mr._Tabone, my English teacher, asked us to write a fiction short story with irony. He explained that irony meant the story needed an unexpected twist. I gave the assignment some serious thought and came up with what I considered a brilliant idea. I wrote about a laborer who always dreamed of taking a cruise. Little by little, he saved his money until finally, in his old age, he scraped together enough to purchase a ticket on a cruise ship. He walked onto the dock, prepared to board the ship, and looked at his ticket to ensure it matched the name on the cruise ship’s bow ― The Titanic.
“And who wrote that story?” Mr._Tabone nearly shouted when I finished reading my story to the class.
“I did,” I said proudly, ignoring his accusative tone.
Two years passed, and I was in Mrs._Bailey’s Senior English class. We turned in our journals each Monday, and nearly every week, Mrs._Bailey accused me of plagiarism. I awoke one Sunday night, realizing I had not written anything in my journal. Half asleep, I scribbled out a poem, which I promptly turned in at the beginning of first period.
Mrs._Bailey responded by saying she had read that poem before. I knew there was no way that was possible. So, I stayed away from poetry and decided to write my philosophies. Mrs._Bailey returned my journal, accusing me of plagiarizing the great philosopher Erich Fromm.
“Who?” I asked. I had never heard of Erich_Fromm. I had never read or heard about any of his philosophies or ideas. I didn’t even know he existed until she said I copied his work. I was devastated. I tried to console myself, reasoning that I must be pretty bright to have philosophies like a great philosopher and write in a way Mrs. Bailey thought was professional work.
Nonetheless, Mrs._Bailey’s accusations stung. She gave me minus points instead of credit for my work. She also gave me a U on my report card, but worse yet, she called my mother and told her I was plagiarizing. I had to dumb down my writing. From then on, I only wrote things I did with my friends in my English journal. That way, I could verify that we did those things and prove that I wasn’t plagiarizing. I also changed my writing to nearly kindergarten level, like a first-reader primer. I wrote with three word sentences and phrases like: We had fun. We roasted marshmallows. They were good. We had fun.
It was awful. It was so demeaning that I had to write that way for Mrs._Bailey’s class. It was also unbearably oppressive.
I was at Arizona_Western_College the following year and assigned to English_101 with Mr._McDonald. I was asked to read one of my papers to the class. I don’t remember the exact story I wrote, but it was about the Vietnam War and how senseless it was that we kept sending young men over there to die. It ended with a quote from Bob_Dylan’s song (which I gave Dylan credit): “The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. The answer is blowing in the wind.” When I finished reading my paper to the class, there were no accusations of plagiarism.
Instead, Mr._McDonald enthusiastically said, “That story is good enough to be published!” Finally, I was recognized for my talent and believed in by someone.
One day in class, Mr._McDonald mentioned he received his degree from the University of Arizona. That was when I told him my grandfather had been Dean of Men. Mr._McDonald momentarily looked startled and then asked my grandfather’s name. I told him my grandfather was Arthur_Hamilton_Otis.
“Dean_Otis?” Mr._McDonald asked. I nodded, although I had never heard my grandfather referred to as Dean_Otis. Mr._McDonald told me he was a poor farm boy who didn’t attend school because he helped his family work their farm throughout his youth. However, he very much wanted to go to the University_of_Arizona. No one would grant him admission until he went to Dean Otis, who intervened.
I didn’t know anything about my grandfather other than he had been Dean_of_Men for several years and died of cancer before I was born. Mr._McDonald told me my grandfather was a very kind and caring person who allowed him an opportunity he would not otherwise have had.
It was the opportunity my grandfather provided that placed Mr._McDonald in a position to offer the encouragement that became a turning point in my life. I had seriously considered dropping out of school since I found the accusations of plagiarism discouraging and intolerable. However, Mr._McDonald’s encouragement provided hope that steered my life on a more positive course. I received my associate’s degree from Arizona_Western_College and my bachelor’s degree from Arizona_State_University. Later, I earned my Master’s in Language, Reading, and Culture from the College_of_Education at the University_of_Arizona. I taught language arts, English, reading, and literature for many years at the same middle school where I attended junior high.
That farm boy, Lawrence_McDonald, kept his promise to Dean_Otis and excelled. He earned both a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree. Not only did he become an English professor, but he also became the head of the English Department at Arizona_Western_College. In time, he continued his education and earned his doctorate degree. Through his encouragement, Lawrence_McDonald changed the lives of many students for the better, including mine. I learned from him that encouragement can go a long way. The most important lesson he taught me was that despite overwhelming obstacles, with determination and perseverance, one can accomplish almost anything.
I never got the chance to meet my grandfather. Through Lawrence_McDonald, I learned my grandfather, like Lawrence_McDonald, was a kind and caring man. Lawrence_McDonald also taught me my grandfather’s greatest lesson: Giving someone an opportunity can change the world and improve countless lives.
Thank you for your gift of believing in others.
Job well done.