HUMANICS. IN ACTIoN. Continued from previous page
She remembers the tornado’s random wrath, destroying homes just a block or two away; some remaining houses are still covered with blue tarps. Weston’s house was largely spared. Some trees and branches had to be removed, but a towering catalpa
USA Today singled out Springfield College as one of only 20 colleges and universities in America—both public and private—to maintain an especially strong commitment to community service.
remains out front, pods dangling. The interview goes on for almost an hour.
Marion Weston is unfailingly polite. In a quiet way she seems proud to talk about her life in this modest home on Marshall Street. Her conversation with Danielle Every is not a transformative or revolutionary or especially memorable moment, but it is a little chip away, a little tightening, a little effort to try to be—as President Flynn often says—“a part of, and not apart from”—the commu- nity. Weston stands up and smiles, tells Every it was nice to meet her. They pose for a photo beside the catalpa tree. **
it in yearbooks of World War I vintage. We hear it in the words of former College presi- dent Glenn Olds when he introduces the commencement speaker in 1964: “It is fitting therefore in a college committed to educating for careers of service, where doubtless this day a higher percentage of its graduating class goes on to serve others than most any other college…should serve as a setting for…a speaker who gives [this mission] voice.” And we feel it in our bones when that speaker, one Martin Luther king Jr., prefaces his remarks by saying, “As I stand here, I certainly feel a deep sense of appreciation for all that this College has meant to the cultural and humanitarian life of our nation and the world.” There are times, perhaps, when we have
fallen short, but Humanics is our mission, the one we come back to again and again. It’s who we are. It’s what we do. Danielle Every, for instance, is one of 60
students working this year for AmeriCorps. They are plugged into all kinds of projects in the city, showing up at preschools and high schools, pouring themselves into academic enrichment, literacy training, coaching everything from dance to football. Every has cleared a fire path through the woods in storm-ravaged areas. She’s restored damaged homes, and lightened the load for kids at the Ronald McDonald House. “We’re everywhere,” she says. On Alden Street, it’s service with a smile.
USA Today singled out Springfield College as one of only 20 colleges and universities in America—both public and private—to maintain an especially strong commitment to community service. That commitment is symbolized most
powerfully on a single day in September, but at Springfield College, Humanics in Action is not just a day. It’s the way. **
Right here in Springfield, the Merriam- Webster company has been producing dictionaries for almost 200 years, but you will be hard-pressed to find “Humanics.” On campus, we know the word. It is our creed. It is woven through the history of the College from the beginning. We understand the mission of educating students in spirit, mind, and body for leadership in service to others. We read about it in the words of founding fathers like Luther Gulick. We see
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Now that the slow but critically important treadmill workout is over for Bob Swanson—almost 10 minutes, not quite one-tenth of a mile—the real challenge begins: the dismount. Physical therapy professor kim Nowakowski looks at the harness attached to Swanson’s torso and asks the 69-year-old which student he would like to help ease him from treadmill to wheelchair. In the past, he has worked comfortably with both Mackenzie O’Dea and Josh Henderson, both of whom get in
position to provide support. A tiny hint of a smile creases Swanson’s face as he says in slow, guttural, but audible fashion, “Ju-leeee.” Julie Harris smiles a bit nervously. A first-
year graduate student from Hatfield, Pa., this is her first day of working with Bob Swanson, a near-legendary character at the Stroke Exercise Group, which meets twice a week in the basement of the Allied Health Center. He has been coming here since the program began nine years ago. As Harris positions herself in front of the chair for the purpose of—as she will explain weeks later—“being his muscles, basically,” Swanson turns his face ever so slightly toward her, and says with a hint of mischief, “Press-ure.” Under Nowakowski’s directions, and with
O’Dea and Henderson spotting her, Julie Harris successfully guides Swanson back into the chair. “Thank you,” he says. Years ago, Bob Swanson was a successful
architectural draftsman. His work, according to his wife, Mary, was “very, very precise.” But in 1989, at the age of 45, he suffered a massive stroke. Basic coordination, balance, and speech would now become a colossal challenge. “We decided years ago we could wallow
in it and be sad about the rest of whatever God gave us for a life, or we could try to make the best of it,” says Mary. The latter choice, she says, has been far easier to make because of the Stroke Exercise Group run twice a week as a service-learning project each semester by physical therapy profes- sors Nowakowski and Regina kaufman. Mary Swanson points out that the rehab covered by insurance is easily exhausted. “You can’t get any more, and private therapy is outra- geously expensive for most people. You feel so very alone.” She remembers being nudged out of nursing home therapy
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