That was 1963, the year I graduated from the University known familiarly as the Missouri School of Mines with a Bachelor of Science in Civil Engineering. At the same time Carola got a PHT degree from the University Dames; shorthand for Putting Hubby Through. This is 2013 and we attended the 50th reunion of our class.
Memories of Rolla in the years between have had a disturbing undercurrent for me and being there this past week brought some mixed emotions to the surface. The story, not unique except it’s mine, involves personal success after suffering a significant failure.
My scholastic performance in my first three semesters resulted in the school notifying me that it would be better for me to try a different school and a different field of study; that I was apparently not capable of meeting the standards of MSM. I went into shock and recovery. There was no other option for me but to go back to that school, to that curriculum, and graduate.
They approved me to be readmitted on probation eighteen months later in the fall of 1961. This was after I wrote a letter explaining that I had taken math, drawing, and literature classes at a local college with grade A results and that I was confident of success at MSM.
Four semesters later, each with Dean’s Honors and an interim summer school session of Mechanics of Materials and Thermodynamics, I was in the group of 470, more or less, people that received their degrees on May 26, 1963. Along with my degree, we left Rolla with a daughter and another baby on the way.
The mixed emotions about the school stem from experiencing the total insensitivity of the faculty and staff. At no time during my entire time there and especially in those last four semesters did I ever get the impression that anyone there took any personal interest in me.
No faculty member or administrator knew me; recognized me or my name. If I had an advisor, his identity was successfully kept secret from me. The attitude apparent was, here it is, figure it out for yourself, take it or leave it, we don’t care if you make it or not. And even after performing very well in the academic ranks, there was never a word of encouragement or “well done.” The results were posted and that was that; no one cared.
The system, however, worked; I scheduled and took the classes I needed, had job interviews, landed a good job, and graduated. But I left there feeling like the persona incognito I had been all the while I was there. Thank goodness for my fraternity and my wife because with them I had some identity.
I’ve attended two other Universities, both much larger than MSM, now Missouri Institute of Science and Technology, and had totally different experiences. From one I received an MBA and the other, as a continuing education student, I completed about 50 graded credit hours in liberal and performing arts. These institutions made me feel like they cared about me, people on faculty and staff interacted with me familiarly and made me feel like I belonged there.
At this reunion, you would swear we were the only people who had ever attended the school. There were programs to tell us about the quality of students being attracted, the high rank of quality that the school has nationally, the innovation in education being offered, the results of building programs over the years, the decrease in funding being experienced at state and federal levels, the increased reliance upon industrial grants and alumni generosity, the naming opportunities still available. A cynic might say this was damage control.
Suddenly it became clear to me that the haughty independence of 50 years ago is not consistent with today's needs. Now the faculty and staff want to retain students with hand-on-the-shoulder familiarity, tutoring, advice, and counseling to solve situations before they become serious. Alums who have warm and fuzzy memories are much more likely to contribute.
At this reunion, you would swear we were the only people who had ever attended the school. There were programs to tell us about the quality of students being attracted, the high rank of quality that the school has nationally, the innovation in education being offered, the results of building programs over the years, the decrease in funding being experienced at state and federal levels, the increased reliance upon industrial grants and alumni generosity, the naming opportunities still available. A cynic might say this was damage control.
Suddenly it became clear to me that the haughty independence of 50 years ago is not consistent with today's needs. Now the faculty and staff want to retain students with hand-on-the-shoulder familiarity, tutoring, advice, and counseling to solve situations before they become serious. Alums who have warm and fuzzy memories are much more likely to contribute.
Even with all the good words and generosity shown for the alums at this reunion that feeling of not really being there was back with me just as it was 50 years ago. My education there included a learning experience in the school of hard knocks and it didn't have to be that way. But that was then and this is now; the people there are all new except for one and he's a good guy. The magic they tried to work at the 50th did indeed work and my heart will soon be empty of whatever lingering hurt feelings are there. Life went on and it was good.
