Professors and Coaches See Students as Whole People
By Brandon Johnson

Personal Essay

For more than four hours, I sat at a Whitworth library computer booth staring at the screen, grappling to come up with background research for my Advanced Interpersonal class paper.

The topic was great: pop-cultural perspectives of romantic relationships. But I felt distraught and defeated, and only had three sources, half of the required number.

With my head hung a little low and my stride a little slower, I drug myself into Professor Alan Mikkelson's office and asked for grace. He smiled, pulled a chair out for me, and said, "Of course I will."

And that is my Whitworth experience: professors and coaches really care about students as people and have treated me as more than just a student or a student athlete.

That was true with my first Communication Studies instructor Deborah Vaughn. The Hixson Union Building café was packed with students and professors hurrying to get their lunch in between classes. While I inspected the yogurt selection on the first day of the spring semester, Ms. Vaughn tapped me on the shoulder lightly. She had recognized me from a class roster – our class hadn't even met yet.

We ate our salads and chatted. The exchange of the usual pleasantries lead our conversation towards my unhappiness with my major. At the end of the meal, she looked me straight in the eyes, and with a look of comical assurance, said that I needed to become a communications major. There was no way around it. I soon found that she was right, and became totally engrossed in her communications class. I even looked forward to the homework.

That's significant because I don't like homework. I will put it off and even have to do homework on the bus between swim meets. One night, the bus was packed full of sleeping swimmers heading back to Spokane from Portland. Only the driver and Swim Coach Tom Dodd were awake. My butterfly events had really taken off, but classes were tough. I sat towards the back of the bus mulling through my Business Law note cards, trying to cram whatever information I could into my brain before the test the next day. Coach Dodd walked the aisle, holding onto the tops of seats, as he checked to make sure everyone was fine. He bent down next to me and picked up a note card I had dropped on the floor and read it to me. I stared at him blankly, not knowing the answer. He asked how I felt about my test. I didn't speak, just looked at him somberly.

He sat next to me for the next three hours, quizzing me until the bus pulled into a fog-covered Whitworth. Stepping off into the hazy night air, I grabbed my luggage and started across campus. The coach stopped me and told me not to be at practice the next morning. Sleep, he said, get a good night of sleep. I did. And I did well on the test.