A few weeks ago I was having coffee with a friend following the debut weekend of “Wonder Woman.” The conversation naturally lead into further consideration of heroes, and then television and the anti-heroes of HBO dramas like “The Sopranos.”

When I brought up the series “Oz” about life within the fictional maximum security Oswald State Penitentiary,  we were stuck for a moment. You see, we could talk about the evolutionary arc of Tony Soprano and his paisanos and moments of redemption, but also with no expectation that many of the characters would redeem themselves. Least ways, not beyond their ethical structures and into ours. There was a clarity to their actions that usually took place within their basic ethical frame – “Once you’re into this family, there’s no getting out.”

In Oz, week after week, we waited for a hero. We looked to see if rare moments of redemption turned into something else. They did not.

Week after week, we waited for a hero that never arose.

Each episode simply contributed to the downward spiral of meanness, evil, and despair, that was the “normal” character development arc in Oz. The violence, the desire for control over others as the closest thing to freedom possible, the abuses of all types, and the treatment of humans as deranged animals, leave most viewers desperately wishing for a hero. We wanted someone to rise up and save at least one person, if only themselves. It never really happened though.

As the Boss said in Thunder Road:

“You can hide ‘neath your covers and study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers,throw roses in the rain,
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a savior to rise from these streets.”

You can do these things, but you are missing the fact that there are heroes all around us. I see them every day. People who fight for what they believe (@saragoldrickrab). People who try to elevate the conversation (@tressiemcphd). People who share what is seemingly unshareable (@rgay – Hunger is amazingly beautiful and painful).

These are some of my heroes. They are brave, amazing, super-intelligent, and honorable people. You know, what we all want to be.

Sometime in 1995 I picked up a copy of “Fear of Physics: A Guide for the Perplexed.” I don’t quite remember whose recommendation this was or what triggered it, but it was delightful read. Mostly the book is about estimating. That’s right, estimating. About how physicists use estimating to understand the universe.

This morning I was painting and this occurred to me:

I’d never thought about it like this before. Painting, especially with my style, is just a process of estimation. I’m not trying to create photo realism. I’m making portraits that contain colors and brushstrokes That often have little to do with reality. Actually, they have mostly little to do with reality. What happens is the placement of color and certain brush strokes pull the rest together to estimate an image of a person. It’s pretty cool when it happens well.

The funny thing is that this is what I do at work, only with data. I work with large quantities of data that are themselves estimates. From those I create more estimates, estimates that are highly precise, but estimates nonetheless. Today was the first time I thought of these things as being so similar. In the past I thought about the relationship in terms of design, visualization, and layout, not estimation. So I think this is pretty cool as well.

It also takes the stress off. Estimating is easier than duplicating. Really though, estimating is just another way to say “suggesting,” which is what artists are generally taught to do. Estimating is more comfortable to me for some reason, probably  because of the parallel to the rest of my life.

I stopped painting years ago. When the boys were young, we decided that my typical subject matter was probably not going to be helpful since the oldest boy had been sexually molested. At the same time I had transitioned from the MFA program to the MPA program and I had more bookwork to do. That was followed by the doc program that overlapped starting a new career. There was no time to paint when I was trying to master programming and counting and all the reading and study requirements. So painting got lost along the way.

Over the course of the three years I spent studying art as an undergraduate I became something of a credible artist as a technical matter, particularly as a painter. I was a fair designer and maker of silver jewelry and decent as a potter. Generally though, my painting and drawing evoked only minimal interest. It didn’t really reach people. I look back on that work now and I understand why. It was shallow.

Worse, it was all interior monologue. Subject matter tired to references that I carried around with me but no one else did. In other words, inside baseball, but fantasy baseball. It wasn’t easily reachable. Like many of my jokes. It worked for me at the time because are became therapy to get through a nasty divorce and find a new starting place.

Even worse though than being shallow, the treatment of of the subjects in the paintings tended so far towards the superficial they were almost symbolic. Symbolic can work, but only with a much stronger sense of design and language of the design. Something that carries from work to work. 

I know why this was. I didn’t really connect with people and so it was too much to expect my paintings to connect with people. And it is not that I really noticed. I too often had other things on my mind. I was impatient.

Now I am painting again. There have been other starts over the years, but this feels different. I have four canvases underway. I have given up all pretext of believing I should follow certain rules and ideas I was taught. I don’t care any more. I’m going to follow my muse, however short and chaotic he or she seems to be, and paint what I feel. And right now that is portraits from selfies. My skills and techniques are rusty. I am occasionally unsure. But there is something there that was missing before.

Connection.

There are strong connections at play in these pieces. The subjects and I have connected. I am seeing more deeply who they are and what I want to show, and I am able to show that. At least to them. Their reactions have stunned me. They have stunned me into believing that I have got this. These paintings are connecting. Apparently, my muse is all about connections.

I am looking forward to showing these pieces when finished, because I am an artist.

The other day I spoke to a group of institutional research professionals. The topic was the College Transparency Act that has been introduced into both chambers of Congress. The Sway I used to frame my talk is here. In it, I reference the discussion that follows this tweet:

and then led to this:

Counting is definitional. Measurement is about dimension and experience.

In order to count, we must first define the distance (but really the difference) between zero and one. Counting to one is not merely the pointing to an object and saying, “One.” Instead it is, or should be, a conscious decision to decide what is being counted. Apples, dogs, Golden Delicious apples, Irish Setters,  ripe/unripe Golden Delicious Apples, male/female Irish Setters, etc. From the gross to the specific, we can decide what to count and how to count it. In doing this, we define the distance between zero and one, and that distance remains constant. It’s like a number line of objects.

This is because we can now communicate about the thing we can count, the thing we have defined. Sender, message, recipient, feedback; this loop is possible because the sender and recipient both have a shared understanding. Whether the definition is at the highest, most generic level, or the most specific, it allows two or more people to talk about it.  Once we can talk about something, we can express ownership of it, we can exchange it for another thing, we can monetize it. We can control it.

Is there really another reason to count something other than to exert control in some fashion? Sure, we can study for the sake of learning and knowledge, to satisfy curiosity, but I would argue that those are efforts at a different types of control.

Measurement allows for supplying additional information of a thing, such as dimensions along an axis, or color (“red” is just a generic term for a reflected light in certain range of frequencies), or cost, or potential acceleration and speed, fuel economy. The more we measure, the more we create definition and difference. Difference provides comparison. Difference allows us to determine or assign value.

Measurement also allows us to determine change. Change along an axis of direction (movement), time, and progress towards a specific change. Measurement is about the experience of a thing, from the perspective of those who measure, not necessarily the perspective of what is measured. When measuring people, measurement makes the personal into the deeply impersonal.

Knowing the difference between 0 and 1 is the foundation of effective communication and the ability to exert control and ownership. Measurement allows us to describe what we are counting, create differentiation in value and experience.

If you are not familiar with the term “kludgeocracy,” take a look at the paper by Stephen M. Teles over at New America. Basically it describes the patchwork of policies and regulations that have become a crazy-quilt of “clumsy and temporarily effective solutions” to problems identified in American policy.  I wrote about this topic in 2013 over on the SCHEV Research blog, bringing together the ideas of the kludgeocracy, Big Data, and personalized public policy. I want to revisit these ideas outside the realm of public policy.

I know someone who is a “returner.” This person shops insanely. Buys things and takes them home to see if they “work.” Often they do not. So, they will take them back to the store for a refund or credit. Over the years I have warned them that this cost the stores money, even without considering various efforts at fraud (e.g. I bought a scale at Walmart and opened it at home to find someone had returned their nasty old scale in the package of the new one), and that someday returns, even with a  receipt would not be allowed.

And so we are coming to that day. Return policies at big box retailers are changing. I think WalMart now allows only three returns without a receipt per year, another national retailer, only three returns  per year, period. Think about this. I’m not sure people really think about closely and completely their transactions are being tracked. It’s not just the purchases, but the returns as well. It’s everything.

My friend’s experience is highlighting to me how much return policies are changing. At one national chain, this person’s purchase history was inexplicably “lost” or at least “unfindable” during a four-week period in which the chain’s return policies became much more restrictive.

Retail businesses often live or die at the margins of cost and revenue. It is clearly rational to me that they attempt to do anything to reduce marginal costs and increase marginal revenue. With Big Data and predictive analytics, it would seem to be rational to know your customer’s purchasing habits (and corresponding return habits) to not only advertise to them based on those habits (which is a policy action) but to grant them enhanced status or benefits, also based on those on those habits. Of course, the reverse is true – assign lessened status and benefits.

In other words, I see a day where return policies are determined for very small groups of customers (basically to ensure some veneer of legality and pretense of equity of treatment – really, I mean individuals). For example, your purchase receipt might allow you to return an item for refund or credit within 24 hours while mine might allow me 30 days since I don’t return things (I tend to accept and own my mistakes).

When a store or chain has your entire purchasing history accessible to each transaction, all sorts of possible kludges are possible. All of which are as specific to you as the business can get away with. Further, when multiple store brands are owned under the same corporate entity (TJ Maxx, Homegoods, Marshall’s) the data collection gets larger. When corporations buy and sell customer data from each other, it get’s even larger. They can build a profile of you, of each of us, that allows opportunity to maximize revenue – which is really all that matters.

I think this is happening now, or will very soon. What should the public policy kludge be in response? It seems to me that upfront disclosure and transparency are the minimum. Perhaps the number and demography of people in one’s “policy group” should be at the heart of the disclosure. For example, Google Fit will tell me I have been more active than 96% of Midlothian, VA in the last week, but I have no idea what that means. I know it is of Google Fit users, but is that 10 or 10,000? What’s the distribution across the population? How do they compare to Garmin Connect users in Midlothian (which gives me a somewhat lower ranking)? Basically once a person has been reduced to a number or complex set of numbers which affect their ranking or the benefits they receive, they should be given enough information to allow them to modify their behavior and improve their ranking, if they so choose. Like a credit score.

The kludgeocracy in Corporate America is here. It is not a black box, but an interconnected series of black boxes based on algorithms written by people that have basically one view of how things should be and have been told to “reduce costs, increase revenue and profit.” At least I know that as a middle class, middle-aged white male, these kludgeocracies will tend to benefit me. But, I’m pretty sure that’s wrong.

Actually, I know it’s wrong.

I spent yesterday in class.

It went like this.

“Take this time to read these pages. I will then talk to you about what you read.” 

“Evangelize” would be more accurate than “talk.”

For a class on data visualization, there were very long periods of talking with no visualization. A large chunk of his talking is about how to do meetings and dump PowerPoint presentations following Amazon’s model of using a six-page narrative memo that is read at the beginning of the meeting and then discussed.

Laura Gogia attended the same event the day before. Her cogent analysis is here. You should read it as I can’t top it. I can only add a another dimension.

Tufte has clearly thought long and hard about presenting data and information. There is a lot to learn from him. However, his focus on paper as the ideal medium for presentation simply doesn’t fit my concept of the dynamic nature of the Web. Many of his ideas I would love to implement overnight, but the current technologies simply don’t offer it. For example, placing text and labels appropriately within a graphic to move away from the use of legends and have a more map-like graphic (his ideal model for us to follow is Google Maps) can easily be done with static presentation graphics. Doing the same where a different institution or student group or state is selected is next to impossible when the images within the chart are now of different size and shape. How does a piece of software know where to place text so that is easily readable in relation to all other objects and pieces of text? How does it do so aesthetically?

His basic complaint he describes as “going into one room to make a table of numbers, going into another room to make text, and yet another room for graphics.” Using “room” as a metaphor for “apps.” I totally get this. I have had the same complaint for years – I want to work on one canvas where I can do everything. Photoshop, Illustrator, and a host of other tools allow me to do this for static designs. Nothing really allows me to do it dynamically.

I love having a big canvas where I can place things where I want them. I can create the message and content to match my vision of what I need to convey. But it is static and I work with lots and lots and lots and increasingly lots more data. When I create a data display that has to provide the same information on a small junior college as it does for a large research university, things change. In order to place objects on a digital canvas for the Web, every pixel has to be mapped and every item anchored according to a grid, with a combination of absolute and relative positions. I can do much of this with our current BI tool, but it has limits. There are simply a fundamental differences between digital and paper tools. One of which is that paper does not allow hyperlinking – save through footnotes, endnotes, and directives (e.g. see pp x-xx).

I would pay good money for a digital platform that allows me to create dynamic content that follows Tufte’s design principles.

It seems to me that this is the solution to Tufte’s complaint. It also seems to me that he can can solve this himself. After all, he created and owns his own publishing house to meet his standards for printing. So why not work with venture capitalist or two to develop a startup company to build such an app?

The more I think about this idea, the more doable I think it is. It simply needs a rethinking of what the underlying mapping strategy of content objects looks like. It would be a radical departure from current apps. If a VC wants to fund this, I’ll pull a team together.

That’s the battle to fight to win the war against bad data visualizations and bad presentations.

I’ve followed Tufte’s work for at least 20 years. It has been a key part of my thinking and design practices, as best as I can implement with the available tools. I have also followed my own muse, my own analysis of users interests and behaviors. I do plan to implement some modifications based on yesterday’s class because we can always do better.

These are the notes I used at panel discussion at the 2017 AIR Forum. The panel was “Big Questions About Big Data” with Jeffrey Alan Johnson and Loralyn Taylor.

Being here today, I wonder if we are becoming the people William Gibson warned us about. If you haven’t read Gibson’s works, especially some of his early works like Neuromancer and Virtual Light, it might be time. His vision in the early 1990s of identifying and tracking people through their economic transactions helped define how I, and I think others, began to think about tracking students across time and location.

What we see happening today with Big Data goes beyond the early days of Gibson’s Cyberpunk. He did not imagine social media to extend quite the way it did and to become another a dataset, at least as I recall. I remember though how it struck me to think of people as being nothing more than their economic transactions. I could see the same applied to students. Track their own economic transactions, financial aid and tuition and fee payments, course/credit attempts, credentials earned. All of this combined with demographics and definitions to add shape and structure to the patterns became my interests for a while.

The reporting almost became secondary. It was the attempt to envision the world through the flow of what was then very limited data.

Of course, it all came at the price of not looking at the world, only its representation in the data. It was too easy to forget that these images in the data were real people and I was making recommendations for policies and interventions that could change their lives.

Remember, Jeff Goldblum’s character in Jurassic Park, Dr. Malcom? “Yeah, yeah, but your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should.”  I know we all have good intentions, we want to serve students better, to ensure their success. We want to be more efficient and effective, always seeking better use of each dollar regardless of its source. But, what are the implications for what we are doing?

Two years ago, I sat in a six-year planning meeting for a college, where institution leadership announced its partnership with a leading tech company to significantly increase retention and graduation through predictive analytics and intrusive advising. In fact, they went so far as to say, “If the model predicts a student heading for trouble and is unresponsive to attempts at communication, we will go so far as to have someone waiting for them in the parking lot at their car.”

Say what? I was taken aback. I understood the intent and appreciated their commitment to student success, but asked something along the lines of, “At what point does an intrusive advisor look different than prospective rapist? Aren’t you normalizing behavior, a use of data, and student identification that you would not normalize or even accept under other circumstances?”

This was when I blogged about the need for ethics and suggested and each following meeting that every Virginia institution considering the use of big data and predictive analytics should develop a statement of ethics about use.

If we take Big Data and predictive analytics to their idealistic conclusion, we would seem to remove all doubt from outcomes and changing individual performance. But what would happen to maturation along the way? Would some numbers of our students mail to mature during college since they failed to fail and thus learn from the experience? Would we end many of the failures and happy accidents like those that led me to becoming an art major which set off a chain of events that put me here today? Admittedly, I had privilege, support, and a fair amount of well-being, so I was not that much at-risk, save for the riskiness of being in the Army, which is where I went after dropping out of college.

One of the most exciting things of my job is the Virginia Longitudinal Data System.  Using processes of de-identified matching, we have the ability to observe individual and group outcomes across nine agencies (and growing) to learn how to better deliver education, workforce, and social services. We do this under some of the most restrictive state privacy laws in the nation, and complying fully with federal privacy laws and regulations. The underlying story of longitudinal data is that time, place, demography, and experience create a “dataprint” of an individual that is at least as unique as a thumbprint. Patterns emerge from large datasets describing not just unique groups, but unique individuals. In committing to the VLDS privacy promise,  we rely on adherence to the letter and spirit of the law, and best practices.

It is through developing a real understanding of privacy laws that guides us in this work. There are three critical components to know:

• A data subject (someone from who you collect data) is entitled to know what data the government has on her. This includes any identified data acquired from a third-party.
• Data and information through analysis and sharing cannot be used to cause “harm” to a data subject unless the possibility of such harm was disclosed to the subject at time of disclosure.
• The subject has the ability to give consent or not to the provision of data and is informed as to what limits of service that may create.

Big Data can push us in a direction away from these principles. We can’t allow that. We must embrace these to ensure fair treatment of each person in the data.

I had to leave the conference after the first day for a meeting in Williamsburg. While away, I followed some of the action on Twitter. I saw a photo from session on analytics that listed “Black,” “Hispanic,” and other demographic variables as “risk factors.” It seems to me that when demographics and identity are risk factors in your education enterprise, you are not trying to educate the students you have, but the students you wish you had. There is a fundamental difference.

…. flirting with me.

This is the lead -in to Rent’s “Take me or leave me. ” I just adore this song for a whole host of reasons. I love the dynamic between Idina Menzel and Tracie Thoms and the staging at the engagement party. It reminds me of “I Got Life” from Hair. It is also just full of passion, frustration, and the desire to not be left behind.

The desire for absolute acceptance of one’s self expressed in the lyrics, “take me for what I am or leave” are unassailably clear. We all want acceptance or at least not constantly being told to change. But this is really just an outcome of the lead in. The song really seems to me to be about about reacting to distraction.

“There will always be women in rubber flirting with me,” is a way of saying that there will always be people and things trying to distract me, but I will always be focused on you. And then it is followed with a long argument to say “quit trying to change me, I love you, so love me.” The problem, as we see throughout the scene, is that there is no give and take, no compromise, just each demanding acceptance. In the end, distraction wins out.

Distraction is a beast. It causes us to lose focus, to lose strength. In the Phantom Tollbooth, the Terrible Trivium is the faceless face of distraction, encouraging pointless never-ending activities for Milo, Tock, and the Humbug. It’s gruesome to anyone who values time and focus, and mind-numbing in the doing. “If you always do the useless and easy jobs, you never have to worry about the important ones.” Important tasks like communication, engagement, and being vulnerable to one another.

Allowing distraction can sabotage anything. It is insidious and can easily become habit. “Well, let me just check Facebook and Twitter one more time.” Or, “well, I’m not winning this argument on its merits, maybe I should throw something else into the mix to distract and redirect the argument.” Distraction also destroys mindfulness as it is hard to be in the moment if one is always chasing squirrels or shiny objects. It’s also hard to enjoy the happiness of moments that occur if you constantly allow distraction.

So I’ve been working on taking each moment, recognizing it for what it is and observing my surroundings, and allowing less distraction in. It’s pretty pleasant.

Mindfulness is not my strong point. It never has been. Finding mental stillness has too often been next to impossible. Thoughts are mostly undisciplined, caroming around and bouncing off of ideas and off of each other, creating possibilities and dead ends, both of which calling for exploration.

I’m not very meditative by nature. So as part of my investigation into mindfulness, I began reading “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind” by Shunryu Suzuki. The most important thing I have learned thus far that has been immediately helpful is learning to count my breaths as a way to still my mind. This has been helpful in many ways. When something is troubling me, this simple strategy helps me redirect and engage the moment I am in.

I am in the process of learning to give up on having any goals for golf other than enjoyment. I struggle too much with the swing. This is despite the fact that I have simplified and shortened the back swing and am slowly learning to feel the swing and understand what it needs to be. I have a fundamental problem that is not going away.

I have no sense of rhythm.

In fact, I learned some years ago that I am “rhythm-deaf” or “beat-deaf.” (You can test yourself here.) I have a very hard time keeping a beat and even harder following a beat. This affects a number of activities including singing (where being on the beat is every as important as being on key) and physical activities where a consistent rhythm is desired to produce a consistent result. Naturally it made it a real challenge to progress as far as I did playing the banjo – which really wasn’t very far. So, I also have no consistent rhythm in my golf swing. Each swing is pretty different even after hitting about 15 to 18 thousand balls in the last two years. I could probably live with this if I stood over the ball with a clear mind.

Up until a few weeks ago when I practiced or when I played, I tried to focus. I tried really, really hard to focus. It didn’t work. Not only did it not work, it made things worse. It made tight, especially my grip – it became way too tight. I started trying to do everything hard and fast and in doing so lost what little synchronization there was between upper and lower body. I would often spin-out turning my body well ahead of the clubhead, sending balls high and 90 degrees right. Or low and 90 degrees right. It was miserable and I was on the verge of quitting the game again.

The readings, unfinished and unmastered as they are, in mindfulness and Zen meditation, helped me to take a new approach. Rather than trying to focus on hitting the ball, I now try to find the moment and be in it. Clearing my head except for one or two swing thoughts, feeling the air around me, the ground beneath my feet, and the movement of the swing. Feeling the moment. I’m not quite there yet, but it is happening and as it does so, I am feeling the swing itself in a way I haven’t before. I’m also not having to worry about maintaining focus or going in and out of focus. I simply try to be in the moment – a moment that is not about stress, but about play. After all, I am only playing a game or practicing for a game.

An added benefit is that I am playing happier. Seriously happier. Even when things go poorly. I am enjoying the game like I should, like I want. This is the way it should be.

A final thing that I learned: Don’t just do something, sit there! I’m learned a lot about being about to sit and do nothing comfortably, except count my breaths. Sometimes I get up to 20. I hope to get where I lose count on a regular basis.

This past weekend we celebrated my father’s 85th birthday. There was a small gathering of some of his students (spanning the mid-1970s through his retirement in 2000) and former colleagues. Dad taught English, journalism, and communications, at MSSC/MSSU from about 1972 to his retirement in 2000. He taught in Oklahoma before that and elsewhere.

Dad related the following story during his remarks:

Recently I was called for jury duty. During the questioning of the potential jurors, I was always the last to be called on. One question in particular was of interest. “Do you have a passion? What are you passionate about?” Almost invariably, the responses were about sports. Football. Baseball. The Cardinals. The Royals. And others, of course. When he got to me:

“Are you passionate about anything?”

“I try to teach passion.”

“I suppose they call you , ‘Mr. Passion!?'”

The judge said, “I wouldn’t go there. That’s Mr Massa. He has a reputation for passion.”

Here’s the thing though. Growing up, I don’t recall a single lecture directed at me about passion. Admittedly, I didn’t move back to live with him until I was 16, so it might have been too late to have much real impact after short visits and summers between seven and 16. Unlike my sister, I didn’t take classes from him or become a communications major. However, I do a recall number of lectures, monologues, and exhortations, all delivered with a great deal of passion. I probably assumed at the time that this was simply a device to gain my wayward attention.

I didn’t realize at the time that I was being given the roadmap for my life.

I’ve written before that my earliest memories are of college campuses. Primarily the institution known then as Oklahoma College for Liberal Arts and now known as University of Science and Arts of Oklahoma. Those memories take me to age seven. From 16 to 26 (save for three years in the Army) my campus memories are of Missouri Southern State College (now University). Along with those memories of campuses, are memories of students. Dad’s students were almost always at least a weekly presence at home. Wide-ranging discussions of economics, history, political science, and yes, journalism, were the norm with Dad, Teresa (‘T’,my step-mother), and whatever students dropped by. I don’t think this was ever stated, but it always seemed to me the rules for participation were simple: keep up or shut up (and listen).

The common element was always passion. Passion for knowledge, understanding, or making a difference.

If you know me, if you have seen me present, or worse, you’ve been present when I start talking about the power of data and information to make a difference, you know I have passion for what I do. I absolutely love what I do. Every single day. Even the days that aren’t so great. I intend to keep doing this work as long as I am able. I never set out to find my passion or even asked, “Can I do this work with passion?” I simply did it with passion. And the passion was there to be found.

I’ve worked a lot of low-wage jobs and blue collar jobs before I stumbled into this career. I never thought about doing those jobs with passion, or at least not much. A couple of the blue collar jobs I gave serious consideration to as a career path, but in the end, they were not satisfactory. I took those jobs to support myself, or my family. I never hesitated about the type of work, just dove in and did it because I needed to do so . And that’s a different type of passion.

I remember some thunderous, emotive monologues delivered from the front seat of the car while I rode in the back. While I knew they were for my benefit, they weren’t strictly because this is simply who he is. He cares about things, about people, and it shows. It shows in the care with which he does things. It shows not in sympathy or or even obvious empathy, but in finding solutions. In addressing needs. There are stories that really should be told, but they are not mine to tell. Just know that he is a class act and the student tributes I have heard and seen are deserved.

As first-generation college students themselves, Dad and T sponsor scholarships at four universities to support first-generation students. They are passionate about higher education and that is only a part of their shared passion of 46 years of marriage. They do what they believe in, always in the fullest measure possible, and always with passion.

So, when you’re thinking to yourself, “Boy, Tod does get wound up and passionate at times about this stuff,” this is why. With Dad and T as role models, there was little likelihood that I would not turn out to do things with passion. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My sister Daphne and Chad Stebbins (former student now faculty member at MSSU) led the way in creating a secret Facebook tribute group for Dad. Former students wrote their tributes and uploaded photographs. Many of these were compiled into a bound book entitled “Passion” that was presented at the event. The excerpt below is one of my favorites. It is from Nancy Prater of Ball State University, a student who was my contemporary when I returned to MSSC after the Army and who married one of my fellow students and friends (Mike Prater, also of Ball State) in the art department:

Mr. Massa was student-centered before colleges used that as a catch phrase. He understood his audience at Missouri Southern. In so many ways I was a typical Southwest Missouri student. I was from a family with limited means and barely an inkling of the big world out there. He helped kids like me set our standards higher and our sights further than we likely would have on our own.

 This is Dad. Professor Emeritus of Communications. The person who founded the Department of Communications, the Center for International Studies, and the international mission of a mid-size regional college in Southwest Missouri. Someone who saw, and sees, beyond the borders of states and nations, and the self-imposed limits of individuals. When Susan Campbell wrote in the Hartford Courant in 2000 upon his retirement that the students he took were “boozers, losers, and the occasional fundamentalist,” that resonated with me. I knew those people. But the point was that he saw value in everyone, particularly if they were willing to engage life and study with passion. While I never had formal lessons with Dad, every single day with him has been a lived lesson of the exemplary for which to strive. My only wish is that I had paid better attention at times.