E. Paul Torrance
Advisor, Mentor, Friend
By Jeanette Parker
When I completed high school, I had no thoughts of pursuing a career, so I selected a Liberal Arts curriculum with a major in Spanish and French. Some years later, through service with my church’s day school, I realized that Education was my calling. After completing our state certification requirements, at the ripe old age of 34, I entered the public school classroom, teaching sixth grade. Working within an ability-grouped setting, I quickly recognized that challenging the academic and creative talents of my students was of special interest to me. Believing that my experiences with our “brightest and best” students within what I attempted to make a non-traditional (though heterogeneous) classroom setting had enabled me to understand the special needs of these students, in 1975 I established the first class for academically gifted students in our district.
I cried a lot that year. The isolation of our gifted students from the heterogeneous classroom setting made it clear that they had special needs of which I had no clue, and I realized that I needed special training to help me to meet these needs.
Having heard Dr. Dorothy Sisk speak at a national conference, I decided to go to the University of South Florida to study with her. One day, I told her that I would like to know more about the Future Problem Solving (FPS) Program, a newly-established program founded by Dr. E. Paul Torrance at the University of Georgia, of which she had spoken in class. With Dr. Sisk’s help, I contacted Dr. Torrance and told him of my interest in having my gifted students participate in his new program. The following year, my students worked through the FPS problems sent by Dr. Torrance and his wife Pansy, and we became friends as they fostered our understanding of the FPS process. At Dr. T’s encouragement, my husband and I decided to attend the Creative Problem Solving Institute (CPSI) in Buffalo, NY, the following summer.
Our first event at CPSI was dinner, with all participants in attendance. Never having seen a picture of the Torrances, I scoped out the rather large crowd, searching for a scholarly, dignified older couple. Somehow no one seemed to fit my expectations. As I scanned, at the next table, I spotted a small, wiry woman with the letters PANSY scrawled on a piece of masking tape and stretched across her chest. “No,” I thought. “No way.”
I looked away. . . . I looked back. . . . Again I thought, “No. No way” and looked away. And then I thought. Creativity? Could this be the couple with whom I have become “pen pals” over the last year? So I got brave, rose, and went to their table. I walked up, stood beside her, and said (in a playfully curt tone), “Excuse me. I was wondering if you might be Pansy Torrance, and at first I didn’t think so. But now I think maybe you are.” Immediately grasping and matching my teasing tone, she quipped, “Yes, I am. And who are you?” “Jeanette Parker,” I said. “JEA-NETTE!!!!!!!!!” she exclaimed excitedly as she jumped up and gave me a huge hug. A deep and special friendship had begun.
The next day the big group had its first icebreaker activity. Purely by serendipity, my husband and I were seated directly behind the Torrances. After announcing the activity that was to follow, the emcee directed students at the back of the auditorium to toss balls of yarn for us to grab as they untwisted in their flight. Each group was formed as we held our respective threads, and we were assigned partners. I had drawn Paul Torrance as mine. Outside we went, holding our yarn as we tripped the light fancy, weaving in and out in a maze designed to bring us together in a creative design. Here I was, with this world-famous creator in his tennies and his blue tee shirt emblazoned “I am a creative child.” We were instant friends.
A year or two later, as I visited with Dr. T. after a workshop at some gifted education conference somewhere, he said to me, “Jeanette, you should come to Georgia and get your doctorate with me.” I couldn’t imagine how I could do that with only a year’s sabbatical, but he assured me that he would work it out. Not long after that, not even knowing of that conversation, my husband asked one day, “So when are you going to go and get your doctorate?” With his encouragement and support, I began my search and quickly narrowed to the University of Georgia with Dr. Torrance, and the University of Virginia with Dr. Virgil Ward.
I flew first to Athens. Pansy met me at the airport and took me to see their house—an amalgam of treasures from all over the world, displaying the great love their students had held for them. Those who knew the Torrances will remember this house at the bottom of a hill, at which they hosted many gatherings over the years. As we left the house, the car shot back up the steep driveway in a second or two, and I could scarcely catch my breath. (In talking with my husband, I lovingly referred to her as “Mrs. Oldfield.” I later learned that, because of a learning disability of some sort that distorted his sense of direction, the great Paul Torrance could not drive. It was a great but humbling lesson in the power of creativity to overcome adversity.) After a brief house tour, Pansy took me to Aderhold Hall to see Dr. Torrance and the building in which I would be spending most of my time in Georgia. As we approached the front door, a gentleman asked, “May I hold the door for you ladies?” to which Pansy responded, “Indeed you may. It is nice to find a gentleman who likes to do things for ladies.” I had met “the REAL Pansy Torrance.”
When I was leaving UGA, I felt that I really wanted to make it my home, but I still was interested in Virginia. After several hours of conversation with Virgil Ward, he said, “Jeanette, I’d really love to have you study with me, but it seems to me that—with your special interests in creativity—you should be studying with Paul Torrance.” I left the campus, drove my rent car into the Shenandoah National Park, got out to breathe the clean, crisp air as I looked out over God’s beautiful creation, and immediately felt a sense of peace. I knew where I was supposed to go.
One day in class, Dr. T. commented that I had led a Future Problem-Solving team in my gifted program, and that our team had been invited to participate in the national FPS Bowl. After class, I went to him and told him that (though I didn’t mean to contradict him—just to prevent getting credit for something I didn’t do) we had not been invited to the national bowl. He told me then that our invitation had been lost in the mail and was returned to them several years later. I had never known that.
When it came time to select a dissertation topic, Dr. Torrance told me to put together a list of several ideas for his consideration. When we met to discuss them, I laughed as I told him that the one I would most like to do was a longitudinal study of creativity training—but admitted that, with my obvious time limitations, that was not possible. Dr. T. smiled, rose, quietly said, “Follow me,” and walked out of his office and down the hall---with me padding behind like a little puppy dog. Without a word, we filed into the Ed Psyc library, and he opened a file drawer. In it were the files of two groups of children who had taken two different kindergarten programs—one traditional and one based on creativity--about 12 years earlier. They were now juniors and seniors in high school, and it was time for a follow-up of their progress. My longitudinal target was ready-made.
On one occasion I walked into Dr. T’s office to ask him a question, and I apologized for “bothering him.” He responded, “Jeanette, you will never walk into this office and find me not busy. But I will never be too busy to help you if you need me.” I will never forget this response, which I used with my own students many times over my 25 years as a university professor.
When I left UGA, I decided that I would attend the funeral of whichever one—Dr. T. or Pansy—died first. I believe it was 1988 when Pansy’s time came. I hopped a flight to Atlanta and a rent car to Athens for the funeral. When I arrived at the funeral home, I waited patiently in the long line that had assembled to pay respect to Dr. T and his beloved bride. When I got up to Dr. T., he looked at me and lovingly said, “JEA-NETTE!” He didn’t say, “You came!”—he didn’t have to. It mattered that I was there. It really mattered. “Let me take you to see Pansy,” he said. And he took my hand and led me to the casket. At his house after the funeral, we had a wonderful personal conversation. I will always remember those times—very sad but very special.
Because I was one of the older students in the doctoral program, Paul Torrance was not quite old enough to be of my father’s generation. But he was like a second father to me. Advisor, pastor, leader, friend, and much more, he left an indelible mark on my life. I have always known that the Lord sent me to UGA to learn from this saintly gentleman. I was blessed to have him as my mentor, and my life continues to be richer from the brief time I spent with him.
Advisor, Mentor, Friend
By Jeanette Parker
When I completed high school, I had no thoughts of pursuing a career, so I selected a Liberal Arts curriculum with a major in Spanish and French. Some years later, through service with my church’s day school, I realized that Education was my calling. After completing our state certification requirements, at the ripe old age of 34, I entered the public school classroom, teaching sixth grade. Working within an ability-grouped setting, I quickly recognized that challenging the academic and creative talents of my students was of special interest to me. Believing that my experiences with our “brightest and best” students within what I attempted to make a non-traditional (though heterogeneous) classroom setting had enabled me to understand the special needs of these students, in 1975 I established the first class for academically gifted students in our district.
I cried a lot that year. The isolation of our gifted students from the heterogeneous classroom setting made it clear that they had special needs of which I had no clue, and I realized that I needed special training to help me to meet these needs.
Having heard Dr. Dorothy Sisk speak at a national conference, I decided to go to the University of South Florida to study with her. One day, I told her that I would like to know more about the Future Problem Solving (FPS) Program, a newly-established program founded by Dr. E. Paul Torrance at the University of Georgia, of which she had spoken in class. With Dr. Sisk’s help, I contacted Dr. Torrance and told him of my interest in having my gifted students participate in his new program. The following year, my students worked through the FPS problems sent by Dr. Torrance and his wife Pansy, and we became friends as they fostered our understanding of the FPS process. At Dr. T’s encouragement, my husband and I decided to attend the Creative Problem Solving Institute (CPSI) in Buffalo, NY, the following summer.
Our first event at CPSI was dinner, with all participants in attendance. Never having seen a picture of the Torrances, I scoped out the rather large crowd, searching for a scholarly, dignified older couple. Somehow no one seemed to fit my expectations. As I scanned, at the next table, I spotted a small, wiry woman with the letters PANSY scrawled on a piece of masking tape and stretched across her chest. “No,” I thought. “No way.”
I looked away. . . . I looked back. . . . Again I thought, “No. No way” and looked away. And then I thought. Creativity? Could this be the couple with whom I have become “pen pals” over the last year? So I got brave, rose, and went to their table. I walked up, stood beside her, and said (in a playfully curt tone), “Excuse me. I was wondering if you might be Pansy Torrance, and at first I didn’t think so. But now I think maybe you are.” Immediately grasping and matching my teasing tone, she quipped, “Yes, I am. And who are you?” “Jeanette Parker,” I said. “JEA-NETTE!!!!!!!!!” she exclaimed excitedly as she jumped up and gave me a huge hug. A deep and special friendship had begun.
The next day the big group had its first icebreaker activity. Purely by serendipity, my husband and I were seated directly behind the Torrances. After announcing the activity that was to follow, the emcee directed students at the back of the auditorium to toss balls of yarn for us to grab as they untwisted in their flight. Each group was formed as we held our respective threads, and we were assigned partners. I had drawn Paul Torrance as mine. Outside we went, holding our yarn as we tripped the light fancy, weaving in and out in a maze designed to bring us together in a creative design. Here I was, with this world-famous creator in his tennies and his blue tee shirt emblazoned “I am a creative child.” We were instant friends.
A year or two later, as I visited with Dr. T. after a workshop at some gifted education conference somewhere, he said to me, “Jeanette, you should come to Georgia and get your doctorate with me.” I couldn’t imagine how I could do that with only a year’s sabbatical, but he assured me that he would work it out. Not long after that, not even knowing of that conversation, my husband asked one day, “So when are you going to go and get your doctorate?” With his encouragement and support, I began my search and quickly narrowed to the University of Georgia with Dr. Torrance, and the University of Virginia with Dr. Virgil Ward.
I flew first to Athens. Pansy met me at the airport and took me to see their house—an amalgam of treasures from all over the world, displaying the great love their students had held for them. Those who knew the Torrances will remember this house at the bottom of a hill, at which they hosted many gatherings over the years. As we left the house, the car shot back up the steep driveway in a second or two, and I could scarcely catch my breath. (In talking with my husband, I lovingly referred to her as “Mrs. Oldfield.” I later learned that, because of a learning disability of some sort that distorted his sense of direction, the great Paul Torrance could not drive. It was a great but humbling lesson in the power of creativity to overcome adversity.) After a brief house tour, Pansy took me to Aderhold Hall to see Dr. Torrance and the building in which I would be spending most of my time in Georgia. As we approached the front door, a gentleman asked, “May I hold the door for you ladies?” to which Pansy responded, “Indeed you may. It is nice to find a gentleman who likes to do things for ladies.” I had met “the REAL Pansy Torrance.”
When I was leaving UGA, I felt that I really wanted to make it my home, but I still was interested in Virginia. After several hours of conversation with Virgil Ward, he said, “Jeanette, I’d really love to have you study with me, but it seems to me that—with your special interests in creativity—you should be studying with Paul Torrance.” I left the campus, drove my rent car into the Shenandoah National Park, got out to breathe the clean, crisp air as I looked out over God’s beautiful creation, and immediately felt a sense of peace. I knew where I was supposed to go.
One day in class, Dr. T. commented that I had led a Future Problem-Solving team in my gifted program, and that our team had been invited to participate in the national FPS Bowl. After class, I went to him and told him that (though I didn’t mean to contradict him—just to prevent getting credit for something I didn’t do) we had not been invited to the national bowl. He told me then that our invitation had been lost in the mail and was returned to them several years later. I had never known that.
When it came time to select a dissertation topic, Dr. Torrance told me to put together a list of several ideas for his consideration. When we met to discuss them, I laughed as I told him that the one I would most like to do was a longitudinal study of creativity training—but admitted that, with my obvious time limitations, that was not possible. Dr. T. smiled, rose, quietly said, “Follow me,” and walked out of his office and down the hall---with me padding behind like a little puppy dog. Without a word, we filed into the Ed Psyc library, and he opened a file drawer. In it were the files of two groups of children who had taken two different kindergarten programs—one traditional and one based on creativity--about 12 years earlier. They were now juniors and seniors in high school, and it was time for a follow-up of their progress. My longitudinal target was ready-made.
On one occasion I walked into Dr. T’s office to ask him a question, and I apologized for “bothering him.” He responded, “Jeanette, you will never walk into this office and find me not busy. But I will never be too busy to help you if you need me.” I will never forget this response, which I used with my own students many times over my 25 years as a university professor.
When I left UGA, I decided that I would attend the funeral of whichever one—Dr. T. or Pansy—died first. I believe it was 1988 when Pansy’s time came. I hopped a flight to Atlanta and a rent car to Athens for the funeral. When I arrived at the funeral home, I waited patiently in the long line that had assembled to pay respect to Dr. T and his beloved bride. When I got up to Dr. T., he looked at me and lovingly said, “JEA-NETTE!” He didn’t say, “You came!”—he didn’t have to. It mattered that I was there. It really mattered. “Let me take you to see Pansy,” he said. And he took my hand and led me to the casket. At his house after the funeral, we had a wonderful personal conversation. I will always remember those times—very sad but very special.
Because I was one of the older students in the doctoral program, Paul Torrance was not quite old enough to be of my father’s generation. But he was like a second father to me. Advisor, pastor, leader, friend, and much more, he left an indelible mark on my life. I have always known that the Lord sent me to UGA to learn from this saintly gentleman. I was blessed to have him as my mentor, and my life continues to be richer from the brief time I spent with him.
