Drafting a Plan For My Future
Mike Botwin, Professor—Psychology, and Chair of the Academic Senate
Neither of my parents went to college nor did anyone else I knew except my school teachers. I thought college was for rich people. In other words, not me.
I grew up in a lower middle-class neighborhood in the Detroit suburbs, just one mile from 9-Mile Road, which titles rapper Emiem’s biography. We weren’t poor. But I certainly knew we weren’t rich. My dad fixed washing machines for Sears and my mother was a stay-at-home mom. Our house was modest. My parents have a very strong work ethic and were loving and supportive.
I graduated with a 2.8 GPA. Even so, a high school counselor dropped me a handwritten note suggesting that I take the ACT for college. I didn’t know the ACT was a college entrance exam, or that I should study or take it seriously.
My father got lucky one day when he was trying to move some heavy parts off of his truck. He fell and broke his leg. The union at Sears wasn't strong at the time and they placed him in a minor managerial job until he healed. Sears realized my father’s potential and kept him in the office. By the time he retired, he had worked himself up the management ladder to just under the vice-presidential level.
Even with his promotions and increased salary though, my dad was prejudiced against some of the people who had college degrees and got further ahead in the company than he did. “Practical knowledge and working on the job are more important than book learning,” he believes, so he often disparaged a college education. His attitude didn’t stop him from supporting my education, though. Even when he had no idea what I was talking about.
In high school, my goal was to design machines that assemble automobiles. In Detroit, the auto companies were the main source of employment. Both of my grandfathers worked on assembly lines for Chrysler and GM. Their goals were to be draftsmen, but unfortunately they were never able to obtain that goal. During high school I learned I was a very good draftsman and entered a vocational trade program during my junior and senior years. I got my first drafting job when I was 16 years old and loved it.
I was leading a double life. Most of my high school friends were taking college prep courses, so I took those classes with them while taking the drafting classes with the vocational students whose less-than-sterling academic work matched mine. I graduated with a 2.8 GPA. Even so, a high school counselor dropped me a handwritten note suggesting that I take the ACT for college. I didn’t know the ACT was a college entrance exam, or that I should study or take it seriously. So I took the test and did well but still didn’t think about college as an option.
Recruiters from the local community college had talked to our vocational class about the importance of having an associate’s degree in mechanical design if you wanted to progress in the field. They also said you could go to school at night and work during the day. So, I signed up for community college with the intent of attending a couple of years of night school and never darkening the doors of higher education again.
I started community college with a definite direction. The general education classes I had to take were a bother, and because of my high school training my skill was way beyond the level of the drafting and engineering classes being offered.
I took my first college psychology course for all the good student reasons: the technical math course I wanted was closed, an introductory psychology course fit into my schedule, and all my other classes were filled with guys. Therefore, I thought, a psych course would be a great place to meet girls. Well, I didn’t meet the girl of my dreams in that class, but I did get hooked on psychology as a field and avocation. I went on to major in psychology earning my B.A. in December 1982. During my undergraduate training I became interested in personality processes and individual differences in human behavior.
This period was one of the most exciting in my life. I was spreading my intellectual wings, learning about things that fascinated me as well as having some of my core beliefs challenged. I completed all of my undergraduate work at night. I worked during the day, frequently 50 to 60 hours each week. I lived at home with my parents, who, despite my father’s professional success, remained attached to our working-class neighborhood. By living at home, I was able to pay all of my undergraduate expenses.
My parents are humble people, and even though they were disappointed that I’d switched my career goals to psychology, a field they didn’t understand, they supported my goals and accepted my crazy schedule that basically involved dropping in at home to study, eat and sleep.
At Oakland University, my first mentor was Professor Max Brill, who helped me shape the views about psychology that I still hold today. I wrote an honors thesis on a theory of personality psychology that really excited me at the time, and all of the professors I worked with encouraged me to pursue graduate school. Although, in my usual pig-headed way, I didn’t follow their advice about what specialty to study, I did appreciate their support toward continuing my education. In 1989, I earned my doctorate in personality psychology from the University of Michigan.
To this day, my parents don't understand what a psychologist does, especially a research psychologist. Once I showed my mom a journal article I’d published that was extremely complicated. She glanced at it, said it was nice, then said, “Your brother bowled a 300 game.” She was really proud of him.
Most people in the world have no idea what I do for a living, so it doesn't bother me much that my parents don't either. But a college education moves you into a culture that family members who haven’t been to college, even if they love you, simply don’t share.
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