Forrest W. Parkay, PhD

Dr. Forrest W. Parkay. With a double-r. This post is for me, and for anyone in Forrest’s family-tree or extended family that might stumble across it years later, wondering what might this man have done for the world. A Google or DuckDuckGo search will provide evidence that he did, indeed, care about leaving the world a place better than he found it, one community at a time. However, this post isn’t about that. This post is about what he did for me, a relative nobody. He probably did the same for countless students, and I’m aware of at least two others that shared similar circumstances, but what he did for me should be recorded. When you, his family member or friend stumble across this, smile. Forrest was a caring man.

My first graduate course at the Washington State University was facilitated by Forrest. He was (until then) the only the second person I’d met in my lifetime that had earned a doctorate, but insisted that we address him by only his given name, “Forrest”. The first paper I turned in to him, I misspelled his name as “Forest”. He put an “r” in a circle, drew the little arrow-thingy, and never said a word about it. I never forgot how to spell his name. Forrest was incredibly soft-spoken. He never once demonstrated how perturbed he must have been with me. I never heard him raise his voice about anything. I always admired his ability to remain calm.

At the end of that course we turned in (what was for me at that time a mammoth undertaking) a paper that Forrest wanted to be at least 25 pages in length. I had written 31 pages; I kept it. I’m looking at it right now. When he returned the final-paper with the mark I’d earned he had only one comment on the thing, “Vincent, you may want to consider headings in a paper of this length as your academic pursuits continue.” I had zero headings. I had written (in his opinion) a perfect paper otherwise, logically presented and well organized, but never thought to sub-divide it into sections. I earned an A in that course despite minor deductions for the absence of APA headings on that particular assignment.

Forrest was not the chair of my Master’s committee, but he was a member and an integral member. He kept me from a real panic attack about being locked in a room for two days with nothing but blue-books and pens. “Just write what you know, Vincent; you know this and I know you.” I did. I passed. He was the first to offer congratulations.

I eventually completed a PhD on my second attempt at a dissertation, with Forrest as my chair. But a brief note on the failure, first. I had assembled a top-notch committee for my topic on the first one (not Forrest–my topic wasn’t in his wheelhouse). I had a multi-disciplinary team, and it was framed to win some awards, probably for my committee-members—perhaps less so for me. However, the chair had a stroke and never was able to return to work. One person was hired away by the Air Force for a secretive vision-research project. The other was hired away by another university. I was in essence, committee-less. Nobody would touch my topic when I tried to form another committee. I’d already defended the proposal, so I was pretty much all but dissertation (ABD) without any hope.

I moved to China in 2004, still ABD (for over two years), setting off on adventure. I helped two other people start a language school in the capital of Yunnan province, Kunming. In my second month there I got an email from Forrest. “Vincent! I hear you are in Kunming! I’ll be there next month, we should have a drink and catch up!” We did.

Over Chinese noodles, Forrest’s first question to me was, “So how about your dissertation?” I answered, “I’ll be ABD forever, Forrest. Nobody wants to be on my committee.” He shocked me by replying, “You’ve come too far. Don (my first chair) and I have been discussing you. I am willing to chair your committee, but there is a ‘small’ caveat.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t say anything. Forrest continued, “You’ll have to start over. I know that sounds like a lot, but nobody will touch your topic or your structure; it’s too complex. I have a new topic for you. ‘Transnational Education or TNE’ as people are calling it.” We discussed the particulars, and he said, “It’ll be quick and dirty.”

I said in the acknowledgments of my dissertation that my study would still be “piled in a heap of field notes”, if it hadn’t been for Forrest. While that’s true, it doesn’t even begin to describe the countless conversations, the visits, the consultations, the edits, and the stern admonitions when I veered off-topic. I presented Forrest with a first draft that was 883 pages. He sent it back after reading the first 20 pages, with only one comment: “Vincent, hire an editor. This is too much, and you cannot write this as a stream of conscious narrative.” I hired two editors. We pared it down to 269 pages.

Forrest invited me to his dissertation course the day before my defense. He told me, “Practice for tomorrow. This will give you a sense of what your committee might ask, because these graduate students will want to know everything.” That calmed my nerves more than I know, even now. He was there, taking notes. We had dinner that evening and he critiqued me. I felt completely prepared for the next day.

After the defense, I was asked to leave the room while my committee deliberated my fate. I stood in the hallway with my life-partner, she of the rational-logical engineering background, telling me how great I’d been. It seemed like forever, waiting. Suddenly, Forrest walked out of the room. He seemed to look through me. He walked past me and to the front desk in the reception area. I almost got sick. Imposter Syndrome is real, particularly for first-generation students, and I was going over everything I might have done wrong. How had I screwed this up?

Once Forrest was there in the open, in as loud of a voice as I’d ever heard Dr. Forrest Parkay speak, he shouted, “Has anyone seen Dr. Jerry Vincent Nix?!” My knees buckled. He grinned, sort of skipped toward me, and we embraced. I’m crying now, writing this. I’ll never forget how he convinced me that I was the most important student he’d ever mentored, right then, right there. I wasn’t–but Forrest made us all feel that way.

I had to embargo my study for a year before I could even get it bound. The organization for which I worked tried to get me not to turn it in as written. There was even a story written for Inside Higher Education about the experience. Through all of that, Forrest was still rock-solid in support of the data and the evidence, and me. His advocacy was incredible and we made it through the tribulations relatively unscathed. After that one-year embargo I even ordered a few bound copies. I haven’t published that as a book, but I will—maybe when I retire. 🙂

So the picture at the top of this post? Why that specific one? My dissertation uncovered some “shady” practices. One involved a photo-shopped Hilary Clinton onto the cover of a recruiting publication in China. I was in that picture, but Ms. Clinton was not there that day. She was on the cover however. That was some of the evidence I used for my research, that photo-shopped publication. That afternoon, Forrest asked me, “where would you prefer we take our pictures, Vincent?” He drove my partner and I down to the spot I chose. It was his idea for this picture/pose. “Let’s make room for Hilary Clinton in one!”, he exclaimed. We practiced with my partner between us for the “right space.” It was a happier-than-happy day! It wouldn’t have been possible without Forrest.

If you find this post while searching for his name or some of his works, use this blog-post as evidence. Forrest W. Parkay, PhD was one of the most important men in my life. He was, as I’ve said to several, like my “third daddy”. Be proud of his legacy. There are many of us that he trained and then set out into the world to make it better. I shall strive continuously to do my part. I will be happier for having met Forrest W. Parkay and changing my life.

Thank you, Forrest.