The transformative power of chocolate cake made me a professor.

There are times when you can feel your life shift. Sometimes those moments are elaborate and stunning. Sometimes they are painful and immersive. However, we rarely discuss the small and 'basic' occurrences. Moments that pass so swiftly and appear so insignificant that you don't notice your life is changing. One of my most memorable memories featured a piece of chocolate cake, which had a huge impact on my life.

Getting to college required a great deal of labor (and debt). My family had no money to pay for my tuition; therefore, I was totally responsible for funding my education. When I was a freshman, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. At the time, my objectives were reasonable. I needed a degree to secure a 9-to-5 job with benefits that would give me the economic stability I lacked as a child. I aimed for the "little things." I wanted health insurance. I wanted to improve my credit. I wanted to get an automobile. I wanted a schedule for my weekdays.

To meet my liberal arts requirement, I enrolled in an "Introduction to Sociology" course. Dr. W, a professor known for his severe grading, conducted the course. I was cautioned that he was snarky and expected "too much." But I was also taught that his lesson might alter your life if you let it. So I did. I learned everything in the class. We discussed inequality, racism, religion, and capitalism. I recall one lesson where we discussed the concept of soulmates and fate. "Think about this," he stated. "Out of all the people in the world, your soulmate happens to reside nearby. "Isn't that amazing?" He said it cynically. The amazing thing about Dr. W was that he never gave you an answer. He did not tell you what to think. Instead, he showed you something better. He taught you to ask questions.

In his lesson, I discovered the distinction between criticizing and being critical. Criticizing is a sort of complaining about your current condition. I was frustrated because I was constantly broke and couldn't manage to remain afloat. Critical thinking entails asking questions and doing analyses. I was broke because it is exceedingly tough to move up the economic ladder when your family is impoverished. I was attracted by the vocabulary and tools sociology provided to help me comprehend my life. I performed well in Dr. W's class, and he noticed. And this is the distinction between a decent and a great teacher. The great ones always notice.

One day, I went to the registrar's office to officially designate sociology as my major. Two days later, Dr. W approached me. I baked you a cake. "It is chocolate." I recall how confused I was. I initially assumed it was a sociological 'test' to assess my reaction. "Anytime someone changes their major to sociology, they get a cake." So… I received a cake, which sealed the impact that Dr. W made on my life. Following that, I viewed him as a mentor. I took more of his classes and sought his comments on my efforts. He maintained an open-door policy and never made me feel as if I was bothering him. Even though I probably was.

During my senior year, I told him that I did not want school to end. "Why does it have to?" he inquired, glancing at me. Again, never providing an answer, but training me to ask questions. In one of our last chats, we talked about my future plans. I was talking about how afraid I was to graduate. "I'm going to miss this place," I lamented as I surveyed his workspace. "I do not believe that. You will be living alone in the big metropolis, doing fancy writing for who knows where. You will not think twice about this place." He was correct about a number of things, but he was wrong on one. I still think about ‘that place’.

Looking back, I can appreciate Dr. W's influence on my path to becoming a professor. He introduced me to sociology. He demonstrated to me how to properly educate—in a way that extends beyond the classroom. Most significantly, he believed in me. I'm not talking about the "you can do anything if you set your mind to it" idea that you tell underprivileged children to keep them going. I'm talking about the "of course you can do it" type of confidence when failure isn't even an option.

Getting (and eating) the chocolate cake was such a tiny thing. When you think about it, it appears so ordinary. But that tiny act meant a lot. When people ask me when I realized I wanted to be a professor, I don't think of a huge epiphany. I think about the chocolate cake.

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