Let me introduce you to a remarkable lady, Pam Ogaard Padgett.
Mrs. O, how we tended to refer to her in years past, was my first college professor and directly responsible for me pursuing Computer Science as a career. I owe much to this lady: a challenging and fulfilling career, a recognition of what makes a great teacher, a respect for a love for mathematics, and indirectly the relationship to the woman I married, the car I drive and the freedoms that of the engineering lifestyle I live.
Three women are responsible for taking an immature, unfocused, impulsive young adult and largely molding him into the man he is today. The first two; my mother and Pam, got me on the right track. The third, my wife, accepted the tiresome task years later and continues to work on me to this day.
Throughout high school I was a terrible student. A 'last minute Charlie' when it came to homework, test prep, and pretty much anything academic. I'm convinced that my high school teachers took into consideration that if they didn't pass me, they'd be penalized by having me yet another year. 🙂
While I liked computers from an early'ish age, I don't think I considered it a career or profession 'til much later in my life. I felt college was my course in life, not exactly knowing why, and I was certainly conflicted; "How could a C-student who didn't tend to apply himself ever graduate college?". But, college was the plan, and the summer was focused on paying for it.
I worked heavy equipment construction for the summer under the supervision of my father. Long days of hard work, academia was furthest from my (or anyone else's) mind. Twelve hour days + commuting time left little time to conduct deep thought into life choices or career path. But, the summer was coming to an end, and the fall semester was approaching and little Grant had absolutely no idea what he wanted to be when he grew up. I liked computers, but I liked all kinds of things, so I didn't feel particularly drawn to them.
Fall is coming, applications were accepted, course selection looming. A college course work booklet sat on the nightstand like many textbooks of the past. You know you should crack it open and make a decision, but years of hard-wired procrastination tendencies took hold. Pair that with not knowing what I wanted to be certainly complicated matters.
This is when Pam and my mother set the course for the rest of my life. Such an influential moment of a man's life should be painted in words vibrantly and with detail. "It was a Thursday evening on a fleeting summer,..." a more talented story teller may spin such a yarn, but the years and/or mileage on the old brain prevent recalling in detail and I'm not much for fibbing on details.
Still working long days meant leaving at 5:30-6 am and returning around 7 pm typically. Any career counseling or questions during typical business hours were impractical. It would be decades before the advent of cell phones and while the field office had a phone there was little time for personal calls and frankly they were frowned upon. So, my mother took the reigns a bit. "You like computers, don't you"; asked one evening, "yes". Brief, directed, and short; not really a significant discussion and I honestly thought nothing of it at the time. If life were produced in the manner of Hollywood films, at this moment the lighting would have slightly intensified, a slight soundtrack would be played and dramatic pauses would have been scripted; in a manner of saying 'Something important happened here'.
The following evening I came home, covered in dirt, oil, grease and an odor resembling the stink of a mastodon. I hustled into the shower and headed upstairs to grab dinner, my mother handed me a slip of paper afterwards with a name and telephone number. "She's expecting your call" my mother instructed. This was my first encounter with Mrs O. Someone who was willing to give out her personal phone number, giving up a chunk of her evening to talk to someone she had never met simply to provide some guidance to a would-be student. I remember little of the conversation, vaguely asking what I'd refer to as 'dumb questions' at the time. I didn't know how computers could become a career or whether I'd be a fit for them. This was a pre-geek-chiche culture, the television had Magnum PI on it, not Numbers. Think 'Revenge of the Nerds' rather than Abby from 'NCIS'. The computer industry was still forming, the field wasn't as full-formed as it is today. Hobbyists with computers in their garage for fun and NASA, a kid like me didn't see many opportunities in between. Mrs O filled in some of the gaps, patiently and clearly. At the end of the conversation I left with a course list and a mild interest in 'giving it a try'.
I first began as her student, taking introductory computer classes. Programming in PASCAL, later MODULA-2 followed by assembler....the language any computer god-fearing mortal fears and respects. Mrs O was and incredible instructor, a dedicated teacher and a patient presenter. Classes filled with high-strung young adults who could likely have benefited from a Ritalin-dipped veterinarian prescribed darting. Mrs O's classes were structured, planned and insightful. While I tolerated other classes we sincerely looked forward to Mrs O's. We learned what it meant to be a mathematician, an engineer, and honestly a better student. Young adults are horrifying students, my opinion anyway, and I have considered writing formal apologies to many of my past instructors. Best case, I'm bored and distracted, worst case I'm bored and disruptive. College is the place you are when you begin growing into the adult you wish to become. Attention-grabbing smart-ass remarks were met with patience and redirection back to the lesson. Mrs O was a talented and experienced instructor, the way she handled our immature hijinx both defused and taught; not just the lesson at hand, but how adults should behave.
As the year went on, a true mentorship evolved. Between classes we'd drop by Mrs O's office and chat, sometimes about the coursework, sometimes just social. Her computer lab became our computer lab, we began taking pride in it and took responsibility for keeping it in shape; custodial, security and socially. We became 'lab rats' in a form, doing our work as well as seeking out new challenges. We helped underclass students when we could, mostly modeling the give-forward attitude that Mrs O lead by. In time, Mrs O taught me to take the 'hard work' characteristic that I portrayed in physical labor into the academic form. I worked harder than I had ever in high school, became more organized, more focused. Without that, a 110% probability that I wouldn't have completed college. Mrs O lead by example, always prepared for the day, always working hard.
At BSC, a 2-year college, Mrs O's goal was typically to set the stage for achieving an associates degree with the intent of transferring on to a 4-year university for continued education. A bazillion questions from a bazillion students, Mrs O provided guidance as encouragement. She coordinated visiting UND and NDSU with the potential transfer students. On the visit, she met with university faculty to ensure BSC curriculum continued to satisfy the transfer university needs. The trip was productive, fun and essential in helping transitioning to the next step in academia. Mrs O made time to organize as well as participate. She made the time for it, recognized a need and made it happen. Review as many job descriptions as you wish for college professors, taking your students on a field trip to ease the decision and transition isn't anywhere on them. That's above and beyond.
At UND, 3 hours away, a continued hectic workload, I only infrequently seen my mentor. At the Kirkwood Mall on one, or so, occasions. Life gets in the way. Mileposts grow between you and time is lost. If you're lucky, you take the time to reflect how you've gotten to where you are and recognize the people that were instrumental in getting there. A better person would give thanks frequently and in-person and perhaps that day will come.
The last memory I will share, in close, concerns Richard Dreyfuss. Mrs O and a number of us went to "Mr. Holland's Opus", a pretty great movie, and when we left the theater Mrs O (who primarily considers herself a math teacher I infer) said "How does a math teacher get an opus?". Whelp, speaking for some of your students, who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket nor clap at a steady rate; we can only give you our eternal thanks, introverts by nature, our success is your success, our accomplishments are your accomplishments, our love for the profession was inspired by your love for the profession.
Thank you for setting me on this never-ending, ever-loving journey that is 'Computer Science'.
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