In second grade, my teacher, Ms. Susan Lescanec, called on me to read aloud in class. I wasn’t confident in my reading skills and certainly didn’t want to sound foolish in front of classmates—too few of whom looked like me. I was doing okay until…
I-S-L-A-N-D
I saw this word, and based on the rules I’d learned, I confidently pronounced it “IS-LAND.” Before I could continue, the classroom erupted in laughter. Even Ms. Lescanec chuckled but quickly noticed my embarrassment and quieted the room. At that moment, I realized that I loved stories, but I hated words. The feeling of not knowing how to say them properly or struggling to understand their meanings made words my greatest enemy.
But oh, how I loved stories. I loved telling stories. I loved hearing stories. I loved creating characters and experimenting with accents—like the ones I saw on the one TV channel we received in our trailer home on Persimmon Mountain in Covesville, Virginia. I loved writing my own stories. I couldn’t reconcile how I could love stories so much yet hate the words used to create them.
My grandmother, Thelma Lee Vest, a woman with a sixth-grade education, understood the significance of stories in my life. She empowered me by giving me my first journal and said, “Write. Write it all down. Don’t let the words master you. You master the words. Write. You never know who will read it…or need it.” And so, I did. I filled my journal with poems, plays, and even goofy love songs. In my teenage years, I took my craft seriously—though, in retrospect, it was still goofy.
Eventually, my grandmother’s encouragement led me to theater, which became a gateway to film. I wanted to emulate storytellers like Whoopi Goldberg and Angela Bassett and tell stories for people who looked like me. That ambition carried me all the way to California for graduate school at the California State University at Long Beach in 1994. A long way from my small hometown in Charlottesville, Virginia. Over the phone, my grandmother encouraged me one last time, “Hurry up and become famous so you can fly me out to California.”
Those were the last words she spoke to me before she passed away in March 1995. Her love and belief in my storytelling and the promise of a better life due to having a college education transformed into my lifelong dedication to storytelling in higher education. Thirty years later, I’m honored to serve as your President. I see this as continuing her directive: “Tell your story, support others, and create a space where storytellers and education can thrive.”
Reflecting on this journey, I realize that what we do—whether in classrooms, on stages, or behind cameras—is building beautiful I-S-L-A-N-D-S. We create unique spaces where stories come alive, dreams are realized, and voices—long silenced—are finally heard.
As your President for the next two years, I aim to serve the mission and members of the University Film and Video Association, providing opportunities to expand the scope of your teaching, research, and service. Together, we will inspire countless dreamers, creators, and scholars to create their own beautiful ISLANDS of creativity and scholarship.
We have so much to look forward to! I am excited about what we will achieve together in this season of transformation.
Wishing you all an inspiring and productive October!
Dr. TDV
Terésa Dowell-Vest, PhD, MFA
President, University Film and Video Association