DECISIONS
He insists there’s “not a lot of reasoning” behind the things he does, but Joe Whitaker ’19 brings wit, wisdom, and compassion to his journey to medical school.
What’s a 12-year-old kid to do when the 40-watt bulb that runs his blue lava lamp stops working?
For Joe Whitaker ’19, the answer was simple. Give it more heat. In the microwave.
“I had made popcorn in the microwave before, and that took two minutes. So, obviously, I knew I should put the lamp in there for 15 minutes.”
He pressed start and left.
“I don’t remember where I went, but I heard what sounded like a pipe bomb go off in our kitchen.”
The wall was covered with a mix of burn marks and blue goo, and his mother was going to be home in five hours.
“I decided to tell her that it was just microwave fluid.
“There’s not a lot of reasoning behind the things I do.” He smiles. “At least not solid reasoning.”
“Joe is one of the funniest people I’ve ever been around,” says Professor of Psychology Bobby Horton. “He’s so fast, but it’s a dry-ish humor too! He doesn’t seem to be trying. He just says these things that are just hilarious and self-deprecating.
“That quick mind that produces all of these quips and stories is the same sort of quick thinking about information and material that makes him a fantastic student.”
Professor of Chemistry Wally Novak had a similar experience with Whitaker the day he came in to give his final senior presentation—in an elf costume.
“He comes in with his coat on, takes it off, and he’s wearing this silly outfit. Then he does this presentation that’s, well, really funny, but also scientifically correct.”
“I use humor to help me focus,” Whitaker says. And he’s had a lot to focus on during his four years at Wabash. He’s a biochemistry major, psychology minor, a swimmer, and a fellow with Wabash’s Global Health Initiative.
And according to Horton, “he’s good at just about everything.”
“With the level of performance you’re getting from this guy, I don’t think his accessibility—his approachability—is the norm.”
Whitaker has had an altruistic mindset for years—always helping, always giving back. It’s why he wants to become a doctor.
The seed was planted when he was in eighth grade—on March 8, 2011.
“My nephew was born on March 2, 2011. He ended up having a heart attack and had to have open heart surgery on March 8.”
He was fascinated watching hospital staff who were dedicated to helping other people.
“I didn’t know my nephew. To me, he had just been a bump in a stomach. And then for a few days, he was just a baby that cried. But then he became a baby that couldn’t breathe.
“I knew that I loved him, but I didn’t know him. As I’ve gotten to know him, the life that was there then has become invaluable to me.
“How do you repay something you can’t put a price on? For me, that means med school. I’d love to do that for other people.”
“Joe is really smart, and I would take his analytical mind as a physician in a heartbeat,” Horton says. “But when you add his personal sensitivity to it, it’s a really cool combination. Joe will be the one you’re going to want next to you, the one you want to deliver information—whether it’s positive or negative.”
Whitaker’s compassion has been inspired by the generosity of others when he has needed them most.
His father was an “abusive alcoholic” who took his own life when Joe was 10 years old.
“When that happened, my mom started to struggle financially,” he says. “There wasn’t any supplemental income, so I was at risk of being taken out of school because we couldn’t afford it anymore.”
An anonymous donor stepped in to fund his education at a Catholic grade school, and financial support continued throughout his time at Cathedral High School and through scholarships at Wabash.
“That’s been a really big theme throughout my life,” he says. “People, out of the kindness of their hearts, helping me continue my education and make my life better.”
Whitaker’s passion for helping others turned a presentation about substance abuse in Montgomery County into volunteering at Half Way Home, a 180-day rehabilitation program for women.
The director asked Whitaker if he would be interested in teaching one of their life skills classes.
He said, “Yes.” No hesitation.
Where they needed the most help was in a class that taught home maintenance and auto repair, so she asked him if he was handy.
He said, “Yes.” Again, no hesitation.
But there probably should’ve been.
“I didn’t know anything about home maintenance,” Whitaker says.
Determined to be true to his word, though, Whitaker went back to his room that night, dismantled a wall socket, and replaced an outlet. In a matter of weeks he was helping his older brother with drywall and using his car to teach the women of Half Way Home how to change a tire and check the oil. He learned a lot of it from YouTube.
The things Whitaker was teaching were, in his mind, tasks that are often “on the man’s chore list.” He wanted to give these women the ability to do it on their own—just like his mom had done.
“I don’t want to downplay my dad’s role as a father, but, for most of my life, my mom was that role. I guess I don’t know what I’m missing without a dad sometimes. There aren’t things I can point at and say, ‘This is what a father should do,’ but I know that everything my mom did is something I want to do.
“Everything I am today, I owe to my mom. My mom has made harder decisions than I can imagine. If I grow up to be the best man possible, I think I’d want to be just like my mom.”
WHITAKER has been accepted at the Indiana University School of Medicine and plans to begin his studies there this fall. Or, as he puts it, “out of the frying pan, into the fire.”
“Joe Helped Me”
Professor of Chemistry Wally Novak had given the six students in his advanced biochemistry course a particularly difficult problem. He knew he’d have to help them figure it out during the next class period.
“Next class period I asked, ‘Did anyone get this?’” Novak says. “And they all raised their hands. So I asked one of them, ‘How did you get it?’ And he said, ‘Joe helped me.’ Then I looked around the room and they’re all saying, ‘Joe helped me.’
“I asked Joe how he figured out the problem, and he said, ‘It was tough—it took me about three hours.’ Then he said, ‘I just couldn’t let it go.’ He had everything right, and it was beautiful.”
“Joe is the perfect person to help guys who just didn’t quite get things as well as he did,” Professor of Psychology Bobby Horton says. “There are certain students that you want the world for, and part of that is because they’re not demanding it, and Joe is one of those. You just want him to feel as good about himself as he deserves to. It’s probably best for all of us if Joe is out there and active in pursuing his ambitions with vigor and confidence.”