My Promotion and My Mother

I thought of my mother upon recently learning that my application to become a full professor, effective in September, had cleared its last hurdle.

Bessie Priscilla Barber Peterson had a deep love of learning. She had taught for a few years in one-room school house during the Depression, and she made sure that we always had plenty of reading material around. There was always money for books and time to drive me to the library. It also helped that we didn't get a TV until my childhood was more than halfway spent. So I also thank her for that.

Of course my debt to her runs much deeper. I gave up my tenured job in British Columbia nineteen years ago for family reasons, so that we could live in Portland, so my route to this academic honor or accomplishment has been circuitous. Mom didn't like it when I did unconventional things, whether it was growing my hair long, becoming a single foster parent, or giving up any sort of secure job. But she was exactly the sort of person who set aside personal ambitions for the good of her family, so she couldn't really get after me too much about my unconventional academic career or for sometimes defining "family" pretty broadly.

My mother's quiet life suggests to me that our most important contributions come through showing up every day for the people we care about. It made her nervous when her children took risks. But she was the one who taught us and showed us that we could and should do something to help people less fortunate than ourselves. I wish that I had reminded her of that more often. She never realized what a big difference she made in people's lives, directly and indirectly. Most of whatever love I have in my heart is from her.

The committee who recommended my promotion noted that I had an unusually strong record of teaching and particularly service to go with my scholarly production of books and articles and such. Having the mother that I did, it has been difficult for me to do or be otherwise.