Even though I am a University of Texas graduate, I admire Texas A&M because of its very effective use of unique, ritualized traditions to create solidarity among present and former students. Joe Emmert is one of my favorite Aggie friends – of the true-blue, die-hard, unwavering variety. I have had occasion to listen to him regale me with wonderful stories while working on my teeth and I have often repeated two of the best.

Several decades ago, during a period when the Texas football team ran off a long string of consecutive victories over A&M while perennially winning the Southwest Conference, Joe purchased a VCR and taped the annual Thanksgiving Day game.

It was a resounding victory for Joe’s team, which, of course, left him absolutely ecstatic. For an Aggie, nothing surpasses defeating Texas. He went to sleep that evening in a blissful state but woke from a nightmare. In a fog, he began to fear he had dreamed up the game’s results. So, he got up and replayed the entire tape to make sure it was all true.

A few years later, when his daughter Kate was invited to the University of Texas campus to attend a special summer program for exceptional high school science students, Joe at first refused permission for her to go.

After Kate and Ann persisted, however, he begrudgingly relented. To preserve his integrity, however, he asserted, “If anybody finds out Kate is going to the UT campus every day, I’m going to tell them she is in drug rehab.”

He wasn’t serious, of course, but the story illustrates the radical level of his loyalty.

Recently, he told me a story that topped all others in my admiration for Aggiedom. Joe said he never knew in high school that he suffered from a fairly serious case of Attention Deficit Disorder, and his intelligence was masked by a lackluster academic record.

When he reached College Station, he worked very hard but was not succeeding during his first semester. At mid-term he went to an obligatory conference with his advisor, with grades at the near-failing level.

The professor looked at his low GPA and began the conversation by saying, “Something is not right. What are we doing wrong?” Joe replied, “I don’t know. I am trying hard and studying long hours. I am doing everything I can think of.” The professor responded: “No, you misunderstand. I don’t mean what are you doing wrong? I mean, what is A&M doing wrong?”

For Joe, this was life-changing. He felt affirmed by someone who believed the Aggies were all in it together. The professor arranged tutoring, set him up with a study group, and encouraged him. He began from that moment a steady climb to success – to graduation and dental school.

After experiencing 30 years of conscientious and quality care by this “almost failure,” my teeth are in great shape and I feel very confident in his hands. However, that’s not the point, is it?  Sure, Joe was saved through one extraordinary act by a creative and exception teacher. But the bigger lesson is how effective mentors can be if they can see the whole picture. Joe’s professor probably was rare among those at any university, but he sure did point to what all of us should embrace.

When something is amiss, wouldn’t we do well to stop for a moment and ask, “What are we doing wrong? And what can we do to improve it?” To me, that’s the most creative and best approach – whether “we” are in a family or a school or an organization or a workplace or a city.

I want all of us to consider the successful intervention by an Aggie professor as an example of a better way to live in community.