|Sybil C. Mobley. My Dean.|
My Dean died
I say my Dean, because she was the Dean of my undergraduate program, and someone who I think should be in a history book, because she sat on corporate boards in the 70's and 80's when being a woman meant you usually didn't get a seat, so that she figured out how to make it work as a black woman is nothing short of astounding. And then she built a business school at an HBCU for, as she called us upon entry, the "Fortunate 400".
It was a business school where you wore suits three days a week, practiced speech and how to think on your feet, learned research and how to connect the dots, then ran mock businesses with real people and consequences so you could see how real businesses worked. It came with a rapid fire education, one that had us on topics some places don't even cover, much less expect them to be tackled by freshmen, and internships at some of the best companies in the world. It was a place where the best were supposed to graduate from and go onto a big thing.
I'm quite frankly surprised she let me graduate. Don't get me wrong, I did ascend to the very top of the "Corporate IQ program," but I was a campus personality and perhaps not the most diligent of students. For a long time, although I was very capable of doing those things that were asked of me (and maybe a bit more), I thought I didn't fit the mold, that I wasn't the very essence of what they were trying to achieve. Now, decades removed, I wish I can say the idea has changed. But not really.
She had a very big dream that I was but a small part of. But I still hope to serve her memory well.