dr. sipe

on march 11, my advisor dr. sipe passed away very unexpectedly. i've had a difficult time really expressing how huge a loss this is to me and to my life. in thinking about how to write this post, i decided that it's best to start at the beginning:

i'd been an employee at gse for at least a month or two when i found out that dr. sipe would be my advisor. i'd gotten the notice while in a meeting with my supervisor and another coworker and they proceeded to rave about how amazing dr. sipe was. both agreed that i'd love working with him. still, i found dr. sipe incredibly intimidating and was nervous about being his advisee.

we had our first meeting a couple weeks later over lunch at a local bar. at the time, i packed lunch every day, unable to afford to buy food at restaurants. nervous that i might be expected to pay for both our meals, i ordered a side of fries and a water. during our talk, we puzzled together about why we'd been paired: he was an expert on children's responses to literature and picturebooks and i was interested in adult literacy and identity. despite this confusion and my nervousness, dr. sipe made one thing achingly clear: he said, "melissa, i'm your advisor and you should feel free to ask me anything."

he went on to reassure me that there was no such thing as a stupid question; academia is full of vagueness and ambiguity, especially in terms of program policies and the like, and dr. sipe could be my light in this regard, explaining things that were unclear and helping me to understand the process of doing a doctorate. i think i knew then that dr. sipe would be someone i could trust. i spent most of our meeting asking dr. sipe questions about the program, which he answered thoroughly and patiently. at the end of lunch, our check arrived and i reached into my purse for my wallet. dr. sipe stopped me and said, "melissa, i'm your advisor. when we go out to lunch, i pay."

that fall, i took my first two doctoral courses, one of which was taught by dr. sipe and called "responding to literature." in class one night, dr. sipe talked about lineages, explaining that his dissertation chair was like his academic parent and that those of us whom he advised or for whom he acted as dissertation chair would become his children. others who shared the same chair as he were like his siblings, and we all would share this same relationship as well one day. at the time, the idea of an academic family excited me and truthfully, while i hadn't imagined dr. sipe would be my dissertation chair (given our starkly different research interests), he had already in many ways become like an academic father to me.

in that same class, dr. sipe helped me to conduct and write up a mini study on immigrant adults' responses to "the arrival," a picturebook by shaun tan. he was really impressed with the final product and had urged me to revise and submit it to a scholarly journal. although i met with him a few more times over the past couple years to think about and talk through my revisions, i still haven't completed it.

over the past year, my relationship with dr. sipe had grown dramatically. i trusted him a lot and had shared quite a bit about my personal life with him. this all sounds very heavy, and admittedly, i have shed many tears in trusted professors' offices, but dr. sipe and i mostly had a lot of fun together. in keeping with the tradition we'd started at our first meeting of enjoying food while in each other's company, i had developed a habit of bringing treats to his office when we met and i delighted in seeing dr. sipe's face light up when i brought them.

dr. sipe always knew the right thing to say. for example, last summer, when i cried to him in his office about a sick relative, he reminded me that i need not rush through my program of study and assured me that he would support me if i chose to take a leave of absence from classes. and just two months ago, when i came to him for advice about my doctoral candidacy portfolio, he said, "melissa, please don't take it too seriously. sometimes, you make projects bigger than they have to be." his statement stung, but i think he knew he needed to be honest with me. and when i went back to my desk to work, i understood what he meant. writing isn't about perfection; it's about honesty. when i handed in my portfolio and emailed him to let him know, he wrote back, "Thanks, Mel--I have it. Looks good."

many people at gse have become like parents to me, and yet losing dr. sipe has made me feel a bit parentless in this place. i know that i can take his advice and use it to become a better writer and scholar, but i really haven't come to terms with his not being around, and i really miss him.