As I write this, it is the end of November, just past Thanksgiving and Indigenous People’s Day. I have just finished a check on student posts about their final projects in my online course — the lurch to the finish line has begun.
While it is technically the weekend, we’re all trying to juggle the many administrative and teaching responsibilities that become compressed and more urgent in the last three weeks of the semester. This, along with what is a looming and dark prognosis with recent COVID-19 variants, is a lot to take in. Today thus feels like the last pause before the onslaught before the wind down at the end of December. I’m savoring a few moments on the couch before making a pot of soup, finishing up the household chores, and getting ready for the hustle and bustle that arrives on Monday.
But this weekend is a little different, for a reason I had not expected. I’m thinking often these days about my friend and colleague, Dr. Barbara Dodd, who passed away on November 27, leaving behind a legacy of care, intellect, dedication and passion for her people and her field.
Barbara was an emeritus professor at my home institution, The University of Texas at Austin, and a longtime faculty member in the Quantitative Method area in the Department of Educational Psychology. Even after her retirement, Barbara and I kept in touch with frequent emails, texts, and the occasional lunch or dinner. The pandemic put a halt to many of these things, creating a too-long pause in what, it turns out to be, a sad end to our earthly relationship. It turns out the “let’s wait until the case numbers go down” strategy means that I missed out on knowing about her terminal illness, and I had to say goodbye from a distance.
I’ve learned so much from Barbara. Just the other day, another colleague and I were musing upon our obligatory rantings about the trials and tribulations of campus administration. We stopped ourselves in mid sentence, laughed, and said, with humility and honor: “We’ve become Barbara.”
Barbara was never one to mince words or leave an issue unturned in the discussion of department policies, practices, and standards. In truth, she was quite brave. She never went the way of the crowd simply because it was easier. Barbara always brought the full weight of her 30+ years of experience and high regard for student success to each decision. Even if you held a different view or position on a subject, listening to Barbara’s perspective was always time well spent. I hope she knows how valued her contributions were to our department’s self-governance, especially when she was a lone voice of dissent. I hope I can be as brave as she was in my own participation in what can be challenging and complex discussions on important issues and our true mission in teaching: our students.
Barbara deeply valued collegial relationships and shared meals. In addition to participating in the daily faculty lunches in the Quantitative Methods area, Barbara loved the annual NCME and AERA conferences. I’ll always remember running into her in the hallway and seeing how many people surrounded her — colleagues from years back, former and current students, and many friends. She was regularly present at the (very early) NCME breakfast each year, always asking me if I was going to be there as well. I made it just one time, through the late-season snow without proper clothing in Chicago, because I didn’t want to let her down. I’m looking forward to trying again this coming spring, if the tradition is held, and to do it in her honor.
As a member of a large family, Barbara was devoted to her parents and siblings. Her father Dr. Gerald D. Dodd was a world renowned physician and was never far from her mind. Her mother, Helen C. Dodd, was an artist working across multiple mediums. I still have a necklace that her mother made, and remember that Barbara was so proud and touched that I purchased one from her collection. Barbara was particularly present to her parents during their final months — and this was a long and emotional time for her.
We lost our fathers around the same time, and I remember such solace in her support. I also took heart in her example of giving stalwart attention to detail around all the logistics that have to happen during and after someone’s passing. She dug in deep, and managed all of that with perseverance and grit, as she always does.
So as we say goodbye to 2021 and all the opportunities for growth that it has brought, I also say goodbye to my good friend Barbara Dodd. May you rest in peace, Barbara, and know you are remembered fondly, and always.