[The Montana Professor 18.1, Fall 2007 <http://mtprof.msun.edu>]
O. Alan Weltzien
English
UM-Western
a_weltzien@hotdawg.umwestern.edu
In its 5 November 2006 issue, The Montana Standard ran a story, "Learning by doing," by staff writer Nick Gevock. The story is only one of the more recent ones covering X1 ("Experience One"), Montana Western's innovative block schedule. As most Montana Professor readers know by now, Montana Western is the only four-year public college or university in the country to operate with block scheduling, during which students take (with the exception of "stringer" courses) only one class at a time, approximately three hours a day, for eighteen business days. While this unusual schedule doesn't fit the needs or interests of all students (or subjects), the vast majority coming to the Dillon campus like it, and enrollment has been steadily increasing since the campus wholly converted to the block schedule in 2005-06.
Gevock's story unsurprisingly profiles several students and a few professors as well as Chancellor Richard Storey. He opens with a hydrology class scene along Alum Creek in Yellowstone National Park and segues to Professor Rob Thomas, Montana Western's senior geologist: "Experiences like the stream study are exactly what UM-Western geology professor Rob Thomas envisioned a decade ago when he started pushing the college to try an innovative approach to teaching called the block plan." Gevock later states, "Thomas spearheaded the effort to get the block plan," which Thomas defines as "a fundamental change in college education that prepares [my] students for the real world in fields they'll be working in." He's right. Gevock reports that "Thomas takes a field trip for every one of his classes" and is "not using textbooks anymore. Instead, to learn the basics of geology, he assigns readings from current research in the field."
It comes as no surprise that Thomas is profiled more than other UM-W faculty members in this news story, for he did take the lead, along with a few Environmental Sciences colleagues, in making Montana Western's block schedule a reality. His leadership over the past decade speaks volumes about this particular faculty member. For Thomas is as passionate about pedagogy and Montana Western as he is about geology.
These braided devotions come as no surprise. Geologists across the U.S. and beyond regard southwestern Montana as a premier region for field studies, and for many summers, the Dillon campus has hosted a number of field courses from as far away as Georgia Tech. Thomas chose Montana Western deliberately, as he knew from the beginning that he could offer geology students unparalleled opportunities in the field. It took him a year or two, though, to realize that block scheduling could become an optimal undergraduate education in Montana Western's interdisciplinary Environmental Sciences program. This program soon became the poster child for campus conversion to "the block." That tendency continues, as exemplified in Gevock's recent article, wherein three of the five faculty discussed belong to Environmental Sciences. The emphasis upon student-centered learning, hands-on experience, and intense small-group work made the block a clear case of best (pedagogical) practices. It took longer to persuade some colleagues in other fields that this changed emphasis held equal merit for them, even if the opportunities for field trips are smaller or less obvious.
Nowadays when talk turns to the block, Thomas is quick to deflect credit from himself. Instead, he cites key roles played by at least four collaborators: Ms. Anneliese Ripley, Dean of Outreach and extremely capable grant writer (and who happens to also be Thomas's wife); Dr. Sheila Roberts (geochemistry), known for her dedication and tenacity; Dr. Andrea Easter-Pilcher (conservation biology), who lent her thoughtfulness and creativity to the planning; and Dr. Steve Mock (chemistry), an eloquent spokesman who provided steady leadership, overseeing the pilot program (i.e., the FIPSE grant). Thomas states with typical modesty, "The only thing I can take credit for is what happens in my class. "Everything else is collaborative." Montana Western was awarded a Fund for the Improvement of Postsecondary Education (FIPSE) grant (2001-05) of over $400,000 to test pilot block scheduling at Western. As Thomas says, "Without the FIPSE pilot, we would never have done X1 here." Without the four colleagues mentioned above and increasing support by other faculty and staff, there would have been no FIPSE grant. Without successful testing, initially with cohorts of seventy-five freshmen and by the third year, the entire freshmen class, there would have been no conversion of the entire campus to the block. The pilot program proved that this significant innovation would admirably fit Montana Western's size and mission. A front-page story in The Missoulian (28 January 2007) by staff writer Perry Backus confirms this fit and Montana Western's unique identity. Initially opposed by many folks in the community, the block's successes have made converts out of most everyone. Thomas and others have put the Dillon campus on the map of higher educational innovation.
Of seemingly endless enthusiasm, Thomas is a tireless advocate, one who never avoids the possibility of discussion and, ultimately, of convincing others of the value of his position. About the block, he proved a champion spokesman, speaking whenever possible to skeptics within the campus community and beyond it. To those four colleagues, Rob "has been the dynamo," the engine of change. He is "a Pied Piper of geology," an evangelist who could command one of the largest congregations in the country if he had chosen a different "ministry." His office door stays open, and students flock there. With Rob, "you feel the fervor," as he is "silver-tongued." Students or colleagues or administrators or community members might concede Easter-Pilcher's judgment: "Who can resist Rob?" Thomas stays incredibly well-informed about campus and community affairs and wants to be involved in everything. He "cares too much," though over the years he has mellowed--a bit. He claims to be more aware of roadblocks, more wary of what he might take a beating about. His passionate personality or occasional zealotry can irritate others who hold differing views, but in my experience he is always respectful and listens carefully to the opinions of others. Thomas is the sort who, as one close friend commented years ago, wears his heart on his sleeve, and soon after his arrival in southwestern Montana, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the overlapping roles of classroom teacher, field studies researcher (and leader), and faculty leader. He is greatly talented in all these roles.
Thomas has been stirring things up ever since joining the Montana Western faculty in 1993. He was born in Pleasanton, California, near the southeastern shore of San Francisco Bay. He father worked graveyard shift at a plastics factory and his mother served lunch in a local middle school. No one in his folks' generation had been to college, and Thomas, the youngest of three and only son, views himself as a classic first-generation, at-risk college student. He attributes his early interest in natural history to repeated visits in the family camper to western U.S. and Canadian national parks, particularly Yellowstone. During these visits, the boy found himself absorbed by the naturalists' campfire programs, and decided he wanted to do that. His budding interest in geology also derived from a catastrophic childhood experience that provided a lifelong lesson in environmental justice. The family home existed below a slope that bordered a golf course, and because of drainage problems, illegal Mexican employees took shortcuts sluicing water onto the hillside, not below it. One day after sufficient saturation, the hillside sloughed off, the "rotational slide" cracking the house in half. The Thomases lost the first lawsuit because the golf course owners bought off employees and at least one expert witness--a geologist. Though they eventually prevailed, the long road to justice helped crack apart Thomas's parents' marriage.
He began his academic career at Chalbot College, a two-year in nearby Livermore, CA, where he earned an A.A. degree (1982). Back in the 1980s, a Californian could attend such a school just for the cost of textbooks. Thomas knew he wanted some sort of career in the outdoors, but he had no money. Looking back on the years leading up to his doctoral program, Thomas credits at least four professors with showing him the way. As with many academics, Thomas's is a story of exceptional mentors who became his primary role models. A close friend had transferred to Humboldt State, on the foggy, moist northern California coast, and Thomas followed suit, choosing Arcata, California, "for its location." Humboldt State became "a transformative experience," the time and place where Thomas learned that the world is understood in shades far richer than black and white. A generation ago, this California campus was "an amalgamation of '60s hippies and, on the other end, a conservative, blue-collar fishing and logging culture." Remarkably, each tolerated the other, and that lesson in tolerance marked Thomas, an acoustic guitarist who, with friends, played songs downtown for hippies and loggers. Thomas completed his B.A. there in 1985. At Humboldt State, three geologists, Gary Carver, Bud Burke, and Bob Stewart, left their mark on Thomas. Carver, a "field maniac" who glowed as though transformed when showing students samples in the field, inspired Thomas's love of field studies. Burke, well known for his antics, got Thomas into graduate school at The University of Montana-Missoula. Thomas had low GRE scores, and Burke's intervention and key comments tipped the scale in Thomas's favor. Thomas wrote a Budweiser song about Burke that's legendary in certain geology circles. Stewart, the most "totally organized" lecturer Thomas ever had, wanted students to learn by doing, taking undergraduate education on the road. Thomas took a mass extinctions seminar from Stewart, who influenced not only Thomas's specialization but his budding interest in experiential education beyond the classroom and lab.
While in Arcata, Thomas also met Anneliese Ripley, a pretty New Mexican who initially enrolled at Humboldt State for oceanography but switched to geology.
They married in 1988 after both finished their Master's degrees in two years. Only a couple others in their class completed all work in two years, but Thomas felt under the gun, as he was broke. In future years, Ripley worked as a hydrologist in Seattle and Poughkeepsie before taking a position at Montana Tech and then becoming Dean of Research at Montana Western.
They chose Missoula after their initial encounter, at one of Thomas's first GSA (Geological Society of America) meetings, with UM-Missoula's Don Winston, ultimately Thomas's most important mentor. Thomas knew Winston worked on trilobites, among other topics. As he introduced himself to this tall man with scraggly beard and well-worn sweater, asking if they could talk about Missoula's MS program, Winston responded, "Well, by God, let's go get something to eat!" About four hours later, Thomas knew he wanted to come to Missoula. Winston "was more exciting than anyone I've ever met," and he "changed my life." Thomas calls his annual "Belt Bash," "the social event of western Montana," at least for geologists. Winston is the reason Thomas became a college professor. As an undergraduate, Thomas didn't think he had the right stuff, but Winston changed all that, treating this Master's student as a professional colleague. He "exuded passion" in geology beyond anyone Thomas had ever known, and the protégé wanted to emulate him. The summer of 1987, just after Thomas completed his M.S. degree, Winston, knowing his dire financial straits, hired him as a field assistant (after selling a llama from his farm to fund the position), thus buying Thomas some time and security. Thomas jokes that apparently, he was worth at least one llama. That proved "the best summer of my life," as Thomas followed Winston and greenhorn graduate students into Montana's showcase backcountry, and watched the pro over the campfire every evening.
Winston showed Thomas how to passionately love your subject and share it all your life. His larger than life personality attracted students the way Thomas attracts students to his office. Winston made Thomas realize that the campfire sessions could be central, not occasional, to undergraduate education in geology. Winston invariably played old labor songs on a banjo, "entertaining the troops," Thomas joining on guitar. Rob learned a lot of Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger songs--and an additional roots music repertoire that most around the campfire did not know or remember--from Winston. The mentor broadened Thomas's love of popular music, one demonstrated by his long involvement with Montana Western's radio station, KDWG. Thomas even wrote a song, "The Ballad of Don Winston," the chorus of which he sang a capella in his office. "The Ballad" is well-known among geologists, and Thomas has sung it far and wide, including at Winston's seventieth birthday party in Missoula.
In the years after Humboldt State, Thomas joined both the Geological Society of America (GSA) and the Paleontological Society (PS), in both of which he remains active. He fell in love with Big Sky country, particularly Big Sky geology, and vowed to return. After his Masters, Rob worked in industry for one year (1988). At Terrasearch (Dublin, CA), he did fault and landslide evaluations, mapping geohazards for site construction. He valued this practical experience, knowing his work helped new homeowners avoid the kind of catastrophic landslide his parents had endured.
Thomas credits a Don Winston connection with tilting the balance in his admission to the University of Washington's top notch Ph.D. program. He felt he possessed "less inherent intellectual ability" than some other grad students, but could work harder. Thomas specialized in mass extinctions and reconstructing paleoenvironments, and learned to work independently. With one undergraduate in tow, he studied approximately thirty-five mass extinction sites in every Western state, British Columbia, and Alberta. He made all his own thin sections for study under polarizing microscopes, and examined thousands of trilobites to map the boundaries of these "extinction events." From this extremely detailed work, Thomas produced a big dissertation, his wife doing most of the final drafting work. It focuses upon the Marjumiid-Pterocephaliid (Upper Cambrian) Mass Extinction Event in the Western U.S. At Washington, Thomas also learned a lot about the dog-eat-dog world of higher education, particularly the position of marginalized women in a male-dominated department and discipline. His advisor was the only tenured female member of a good ol' boys club.
In the winter of 1991, Thomas fell sick, experiencing chronic fatigue. It took over a year to diagnose his Lyme's disease, and the treatment was slow and difficult. He spent a month with a stent for IV antibiotics. Physicians discovered a heart arrhythmia for which he still takes medication. Thomas had accepted a tenure-track position at Vassar College, one of three openings in sedimentology-paleontology in 1992. This West coast man of blue-collar sympathies tried a different geography and region and style of campus, and it soon proved a bad fit. Thomas discovered little patience for the myriad obsessions with prestige and academic and social posturing characteristic of some Northeast campuses, and longed for the Rocky Mountain West. He liked Vassar's history and legacy, and tolerance for diversity, but loathed its isolated privilege. Poughkeepsie proved bad for his health: after classes he would collapse at his desk, a desk fan (which still graces his desk) reviving him. He finished his dissertation and started a career, designing a new lab, while sick. Poughkeepsie had fallen on hard times by the early 1990s, and the couple disliked its urban malaise, so they decided to look elsewhere.
All of Thomas's academic advisors recommended against him taking the job in Dillon, but despite the "abysmal ad," Thomas knew he wanted to come to southwest Montana. He knew "Western Montana College," then "one of the country's last normal schools," was "grasping for life," and the young, energetic cadre of faculty he found seemed poised to make some big changes. Within the first few minutes of his interview with Dr. Steve Mock, chair of the search committee, Thomas knew he wanted Mock as a colleague and co-conspirator. According to Mock, after the first hour with Thomas, he knew Thomas would be hired. That proved the beginning of an extremely close friendship. Thomas fulfilled his vow to settle in a place close to some of his own professional research, one boasting endless opportunities for fieldwork close at hand. He and Ripley were no strangers to the Beaverhead Valley, having done some summer research here starting in 1986. Thomas remembers looking around town, wondering whether they should buy a cheap old fixer upper. Anneliese said, "What would we do with a house here?" Many years later, they have meticulously restored their old home on S. Washington Street, the handsome color scheme showing off the façade and front porch.
Within two years, Thomas became Chair of the recently integrated Environmental Sciences faculty, a position he held for five years. Until 2000, he also served as an Affiliate Professor at both Idaho State University and The University of Montana-Missoula. In 2000, he became the first President of Montana Western's new Faculty Senate, thus becoming the point person for faculty leadership. In this capacity, he proved a master strategist and tireless lobbyist for the block, eventually leading the Senate to endorse what would become X1 with a unanimous vote. After relinquishing that position, Thomas was elected President of the local Faculty Association (union), which he held for two years. He emerged as a faculty leader because he could not help it. He takes service work seriously and conscientiously, but is always ready with his laugh. Thomas is intense, and his open office door invites drop-ins: students and colleagues take advantage of that. Sometimes I wonder how Thomas gets done half of what he takes on, but know he keeps long hours.
In addition to these roles, Thomas has chaired several campus committees, served on many more, and worked in more than one role on strategic planning initiatives. During his second year at Montana Western, he founded the Environmental Sciences' colloquium series, "On The Rocks," which continues to this day. Over the years this series, held on Monday afternoons, has brought to campus a wide variety of speakers of interest to community members as well as ES majors. Thomas has been a sought-after speaker at the local Kiwanis and Rotary Clubs as well as at the local elementary school. He is better at sharing his professional interests with lay people than most academics I've known in my career. I have watched him in evening talks to community members, demonstrating with his body language how "the sea comes in, then the sea goes out." His demonstration of erosional processes and sedimentation is signature Thomas. I have watched his excitement on the faces of the audience. Rob's passion for making geology's stories accessible to non-geologists has become his trademark, and reflects his democratic convictions about the value of lay people knowing some of the natural history of the earth. Those convictions have stamped his professional work as well as his profound advocacy of experiential learning.
Thomas's work on campus is matched by his work in his field. In the mid- and late-1990s, Thomas received three NSF (National Science Foundation) grants: a MONTS Research Opportunity Award, a MONTS Research Program award, and a two-year Research Experience for Undergraduates (REU) award. The latter, enacting his long-standing commitment to collaborative field research with undergraduates, coalesced his beliefs about the potential of experiential learning, which in turn led to the FIPSE grant for block scheduling. Over the years, Thomas has taken many students to annual meetings of the Rocky Mountain GSA, where they have participated in poster sessions. Because of his commitment to collaborative research, numbers of Montana Western ES majors have had their first professional experiences under his guidance and with his enthusiastic support. In 1997, Thomas joined three more professional organizations: the Montana Academy of Sciences (MAS), the Yellowstone-Bighorn Research Association (YBRA), and the National Association of Geoscience Teachers (NAGT). For several years he has been a member of the YBRA's Board of Directors. All three describe different facets of his professional identity.
After a few years of traditional research, Thomas decided, along with collaborator Sheila Roberts, to shift attention to the lay public--"to show people that the earth has a history." He didn't want esoteric research for a highly specialized professional coterie; instead, he wanted to speak outside his fraternity. This changed focus was driven in part by the wild success of his annual Geoventures field week. Geoventures are GSA-sponsored programs open to geologists and interested individuals from all walks. In the summer of 1994, Thomas led his first GSA Geoventures trip, which featured the geology of the Dillon area. It is open to forty people plus two instructors: since 1997, Sheila Roberts has joined Thomas for the week, and they've become a great team. Thomas proved an instant hit, and a decade later, 30% of his original group returns. It feels like an extended family, with the week on the road, a reunion. He receives Christmas cards from many participants. Thomas comments that the Geoventures groups "have become an indispensable sounding board" for himself and Roberts, providing invaluable feedback as the two fine tune ideas for curricular change at Montana Western.
According to Roberts, with Geoventures Thomas is "combining service to the geological community, promotion of [Montana Western], and fund-raising for the Environmental Sciences scholarship fund." Thomas and Roberts turn over the token honorarium they annually receive to this fund, which is also supported by generous trip members as well as other ES faculty. That scholarship is awarded annually to an ES major "who has shown both good performance in classes and also leadership on campus or within the Department." Roberts believes "Rob is always the heart and soul" of the Geoventures week: "On these field trips he frequently poses complex questions that become the theme for the whole week. By the end, we have explored the question from so many points of view that nobody seems to be unhappy if we must conclude that the answer remains elusive. On these trips and with students, Rob teaches science as a fascinating process, not a series of facts."
Thomas's reputation with Geoventures explains, in part, his latest accolade: in the spring of 2007 the GSA decided to bestow its annual Distinguished Service Award to Thomas. He received the award this fall at the annual GSA conference.
In a similar vein, Thomas and Roberts have dedicated themselves to popularizing the geologic history of what is now Montana. At the turn of the century, with the Lewis and Clark Bicentennial years fast approaching, they decided to do something about the "precious little out there" concerning the Corps and geology. After all, Thomas is quick to remind, the Corps, under President Jefferson's prompt, set out to solve a geologic problem: the location or absence of a Northwest passage. They submitted and secured a grant to develop a series of geologic roadsigns along the Lewis and Clark route. This turned into a five-year project involving approximately twenty-five roadsigns, most of them completed in cooperation with various public and private agencies. Early in the process, Thomas and Roberts published "Geology of the Lewis and Clark Trail: The Three Forks of the Missouri River to Camp Fortunate in Geologic Road Trips, Western Montana and Adjacent Areas" (Rocky Mountain GSA, 2000).
Thomas's career decision, early on at Montana Western, to popularize geology was also inspired by geologists Dave Alt and Donald Hyndman, whose Roadside Geology of Montana was first published a generation ago (the Mountain Press edition, 1986). For Thomas, Alt and Hyndman became the role models for an admirable public focus for geology. Their work directly led to Thomas and Roberts submitting and winning a contract for Geology Under Foot in Montana (Mountain Press). Both wanted to write an understandable geological history of Montana, and in this book, which they've been working on for a couple of years, readers will be taken to about thirty locations around the state where they can get out and see for themselves the most important geological events in the long history of Big Sky country. In Geoventures, the book-in-progress, and many other forms, Thomas preaches the gospel of popularization--without sacrificing professional expertise or accuracy. Regarding academic specialty languages, he believes if you're hiding in your terminology, you don't know what you're talking about. On the other hand, if you can thoroughly explain what you know or what you're doing to lay people, then you are serving your discipline. Thomas is a master of translating and enthusing about his expertise.
Tall and slender, with receded hairline, Thomas's resonant bass voice carries, particularly when he laughs or sings. His big, easy laughter is the sort that invites one to join him as he savors the latest nonsense from near or far. He displays a healthy impatience with academic administration. Thomas is a decent guitarist, and he sings at informal faculty get-togethers as well as with a slightly more organized group called "Question Authority." Over the years, students have listened to Thomas at the occasional faculty/staff talent show. It is common to run into Thomas in The CUP, Montana Western's on-campus coffeehouse, where he is refilling his plastic mug or eating lunch with friends. Thomas always invites you to pull up a chair. You get his full attention. So do his daughters when they run down the hall to his office.
You can also hear him twice a week on his KDWG radio show, "Drive Time with the Rock Doctor." Along with a handful of other faculty, Thomas has actively supported Montana Western's low-power educational FM radio station since it went on the air. He was part of the initial class of DJ's and a driving force behind the establishment of KDWG. Since his first, cheap Yamaha guitar decades ago, Thomas has been interested in roots music, and as I mentioned earlier, he learned a lot of folk music from banjo-playing Don Winston. In 1986 while on a Dillon area field trip, Thomas met a Virginian who opened to him the wide worlds of bluegrass and old-timey music. Years later, when Thomas went on the air, he had the only radio show in Montana dedicated exclusively to bluegrass. After several years of bluegrass, which not all Montana Western students enjoyed, Thomas switched to top twenty formats in rock and roll. By now he has developed about 100 top twenty shows including shows for every year between 1954 and 1974. This interest grew out of his obsession with the Beatles and, later, golden oldies radio programming. Researching these shows, with the help of music historian Dr. John Hajduk, has enabled Thomas to learn a lot about popular culture. On the air, he particularly enjoys providing the historical and educational contexts for the music. Thomas sees KDWG as a strong meeting place between campus and community, and it provides him with another type of outreach.
Thomas keeps his office neat. Careful stacks of books and journals occupy one corner of his desk. Copious rock samples cluster on the top left shelf of a metal bookcase. On his coat rack dangles a yellow diamond sign, "DEAD END," sporting a modest-sized, black T-rex, open-jawed.
Among certain friends, he is known as an equipment geek. At home, skis, boots, poles, and other gear are meticulously arranged, never casually placed. I've seen the rows, and admire a fastidious man. When hiking or skiing with Rob, one finds that the normally health-conscious man indulges in donuts or sweet rolls, and he favors red licorice, always carrying a generous bag. In the mountains with Rob, the pace slows as he continually examines rocks or geological formations. One colleague reports that, on a ski trip atop a peak in the Tobacco Roots, the ski down was delayed an hour as Thomas gave an impromptu lecture about this range's complex geology. He adds, "I am sure that this was not enough time. Probably a whole course would be required." Thomas cannot help himself.
When the talk turns to the current student population, Thomas remarks that he avoids the terms, "good" and "weak students." He prefers to describe them as either "ready" or "not yet ready." He loves teaching the introductory geology courses at least as much as upper-level courses for majors, because he knows he is reaching citizens with the knowledge that earth's history impacts their everyday lives, present and future. In the early 21st century, sharing some of that knowledge seems more crucial than ever. Thomas was one of several scientists cited in an article, "Darwin's Place on Campus Is Secure--But Not Supreme," in the prestigious journal, Science (10 February 2006 issue). In the article, Thomas cites "a growing number of students 'who do not understand or believe in the most basic concepts of geologic time and evolution.'" Not only that. He adds, "They have become 'far more vocal and in some cases disruptive' in class." Such students are ripe for conversion to a scientific outlook and an appreciation for deep time in Thomas's presence. Such a conversion becomes all the more likely in the block schedule under the eye of one of Montana Western's master teachers.
Thomas thrives on the challenge and joy of figuring out how block scheduling can transform students' lives. He loves nothing more than taking students into the field and mentoring their "real world" projects. He sees those evening campfire sessions as the norm, not the exception. Nowadays he keeps busy devising meaningful research projects for upper-level students, many of which have service learning outcomes. He is as jazzed about geology now as he was when starting out. Devoted husband and father, trusted friend and ally, faculty leader, trip leader, folk singer, DJ, authority on mass extinctions, gifted synthesizer and spokesman: Thomas wears many hats. Above all, passionate field researcher and eloquent teacher and democratic idealist. Thomas, like John McPhee, author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Annals of the Former World, could be called a "rhapsode of deep time."
[The Montana Professor 18.1, Fall 2007 <http://mtprof.msun.edu>]