Thursday, 28 May, Chapter Two, “The Powerful Impact of Southern Methodist University,” >>>>> >A Teacher’s Journey from Southern Methodist University to North Minneapolis: Foundations for Overhaul of the Minneapolis Public Schools< >>>>> A Memoir >>>>> Gary Marvin Davison

By the time I graduated from SMU in May 1973, I had a treasure cove of experiences, friendships, a singularly important relationship, and a bevy of knowledge from which to go forth on a life mission. 

 

In the same way as I view my meeting Barbara as Destiny, as having been an ever present reality in my life that gained incarnation on the stair steps to the Student Union, so do I regard my life mission as teacher.  That mission began by age 10 in Ms. McMillan’s classroom and my friendship with the ill-treated Mike;  with the insights I gained during that same period by peering at the segregated pool off Central Expressway;   with my readings in the New Testament and focus on the exemplary life of Jesus by age 11;  and with my intensifying leftist and feminist inclinations during high school and as I hit the SMU campus at age 17,  just short of my 18^th birthday in late August 1969.

 

Never one to seek a single mentor, I nevertheless gained many a life influence among the professors and campus presences at Southern Methodist.  The Reverend Bob Cooper was hugely influential for his liberal Christian activism and dedication to projecting the live of Jesus active in the world.  Chaplain J. Claude Evans gave sermons that matched and elaborated upon convictions that were consistent with those of Bob.  I attended SMU Chapel services every Sunday, became involved as an usher and board member, and during my senior year served as president of the Chapel Board.

 

Southern Methodist had an extraordinarily well-conceived residential services system that in addition to maintaining Resident Advisers (R.A.s, juniors or seniors who lived on and supervised first-year student dorm floors) also had sophomore advisers (men) and sophomore sponsors (women). 


The R. A. position was paid via free room and board;  the sophomore advisory position offered no pay but did give an applicant an advantage for one seeking to be a Resident Adviser.  Dennis and I were roommates on second floor McGuinness as sophomore advisers during our 1970-1971 academic year;  Barbara and Shari were roommates in the same capacity during their 1971-1972 sophomore year.  On the strength of our experiences as sophomores advising first-year students, Barbara and I were selected as R.A.s for the 1972-1973 academic year.  I had to wait a year, seemingly not gaining appointment during the 1971-1972 year because my course overloads of 18 and 21 hours (15 or 16 was standard) were considered by the evaluating committee to be too burdensome, given the considerable responsibilities of the Resident Adviser.

 

This postponement, too, now seems so fortuitous as to signal the intervention of Fate.  My junior year was amazingly replete with excellent courses, volunteer commitments, hanging out with Dennis and Al (the latter as much a character as was Dennis;  Al would eventually go forth to the University of Missouri Law School and a run for homecoming queen), participation in Religious Activities with Bob, Jane, and the group of about 15 stalwarts, and finding out that I had this time been selected as R. A. and would be paired with Barbara in the Living and Learning program.

 

The year’s delay, per Fate, meant that Barbara and I had our first seamless opportunity to get to know each other.  Remarkably for an honors mathematics major and one of the smartest people to walk the earth, Barbara did not grasp that our vigorous correspondence during summer 1972 was in my conception much more than paired Resident Advisers getting to know each other better.

 

She soon knew as academic year 1972-1973 commenced.

 

And she responded favorably.

 

……………………………………………………………………………..

 

“Barbara, hold up.”

 

We were walking along toward our dorms in the Cockrell (women)-McIntosh (men) complex on the same roadway that eventually led to the marvelous fountain at the center of the main quadrangle below iconic campus centerpiece Dallas Hall.  The month was October.  By then there was no doubt that my emotional radar on those Student Union steps was prophetically accurate.  The nights were still warm-cool in Dallas.  Breeze blowing.  Perfect.

 

I turned to Barbara at my right and touched her waist.  She turned toward me.  I put my arms around her.  Then came the words that had gone unvocalized by either of us until now:

 

“Barbara, I love you so much.”

 

We kissed and looked deeply into each other’s eyes.

 

“Oh, Gary, and you know I love you.”

 

I did.

 

But hearing those words were among the sweetest to ring in my ears.

 

Forty-eight years later, those words ring sweeter and truer than ever.