Gratitude Unspoken: Honoring the Transformative Role of Professor Patti Dobson

Gratitude Unspoken: Honoring the Transformative Role of Professor Patti Dobson

Commentary by Tracy Simmons | FāVS News

Sometimes we cross paths with souls so pivotal they redefine our existence. For me, my former journalism professor, Patti Dobson, was one of those people.

I always meant to thank her.

She died July 19.

I have a hunch I wouldn’t have gone to college at all if it wasn’t, in part, for her. No one in my family had gone to university so applying to colleges wasn’t on my radar.

Fortunately, my high school journalism teacher had different plans for me and suggested I apply to Eastern New Mexico University, a small school nestled near the Texas border. 

On a campus visit is where I first met Patti, who we all affectionately called Ms. Dobson.

Her office was a sanctuary of giraffe decor, and I vividly remember her warm smile and genuine kindness. Sharing my enthusiasm for journalism, she immediately suggested various ways I could immerse myself in the program. 

I had the same experience with Janet Roehl, the department chair there (minus the giraffes).

I didn’t care that the school was in Portales, New Mexico — which seemed to have more dairy cows than people — and that I didn’t have any money saved for college, and that my family didn’t really support the idea. Because of these professors, I wanted to enroll.

Receiving scholarships out of the blue

During my senior year of high school, scholarship money unexpectedly began to flow. While I can’t be certain, I suspect these three women had something to do with it.

I moved into the dorms, signed up for classes, started working for The Chase school newspaper and found an unprecedented level of support.

Dr. Roehl’s tough love approach, with rigorous AP Style and grammar corrections, honed my writing skills; meanwhile, Ms. Dobson offered a more nurturing form of guidance.

She knew that my home situation was — unusual. She listened when I told her about the dogmatic faith I grew up in. And her office door was wide open when I needed someone to talk to when, at 19-years-old, I met my dad for the first time. 

She became a steadfast presence during those challenging college moments. And it wasn’t just for me, she was that person for all her students.

Maybe that’s why later in life she, unsurprisingly, became a Presbyterian pastor.

Religion journalism beginnings nurtured

She’s the one who noticed my interest in religion reporting and helped me find my way into the beat, eventually serving on my master’s thesis committee (along with Dr. Roehl) where I wrote about religion in the media. 

Even after graduation, she continued to champion my work, proudly sharing my achievements on social media and becoming my long-distance advocate. Today her husband is managing her Facebook page. It’s an archive of optimism, too precious to let fade away. I scrolled through it the other day and was moved to see people still tagging her with inspirational quotes as a way to remember her.

She died of a heart attack at the age of 62, having had no history of heart trouble before.

I’ve shared Ms. Dobson’s story countless times, always reminding myself to send her a note to let her know the impact she had on my life — but I never did. I’ll always regret not sending that note.

I hope I can still find and thank the other two teachers who were so instrumental in my life, because as novelist Gertrude Stein said, “Silent gratitude isn’t much to anyone.”

The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.