Journey of Gould

How One Iowa Faculty Member Changed Education

by Abby Jager

The crowd’s thunderous cheers lingered in 19-year-old Dave Gould’s ears for hours after leaving the stage. Heart pumping wildly in the wake of his band’s opening performance, the path forward seemed obvious. College was nowhere near a part of it.

Almost 50 years later, now a professor and Honors Program associate, he has become one of the most impactful and innovative educators the University of Iowa has ever seen. 

It all started with a 16-week experiment. 

The plan was hatched when Gould’s father, a first-generation college graduate passionate about education, knocked on his bedroom door. 

“He wanted me to not have any regrets,” Gould said. “He called it the 16-week experiment. I go to college, spend 15 to 16 weeks there. If I don’t like it, I pick up the pieces and move on.” 

Though he loved his band, there was something more important.

“I had no interest in getting a degree,” Gould said. “But I said, ‘I can spend 16 weeks doing anything for my father.’” 

Two weeks later, he was sleeping on a hard twin bed in his dorm room at Northern Illinois University. What started out as an ode to his father turned into the first notes of a revelation.  

“I think it was very gradual,” Gould said. “I started to realize what college is able to do — that it’s this wonderful little four years, 2 million minutes, where it’s like a sandbox to play in. You get to discover who you are.” 

An avid student in the classes he found interesting, Gould far surpassed the 16-week mark. His walk across the graduation stage as a double major in studio art and performance music was probably the last straight path he followed. His journey onward was anything but linear.  

A child is scared to death the first time they jump off a stool. The next time, they giggle nervously. By the fifth time, it’s not high enough anymore. A bit like this child, Gould’s life can be charted by a series of leaps. Not off the top of a three-foot stool, though; Gould has taken to leaping from the top of the playground.  

“I’ve taken risks and increasingly so,” he said with a grin. “It’s like a crossroads, one path leading to the predictable. Maybe there’s some wrinkles, but we’ve all seen that movie before, right? Boy meets girl, they get a little dust up, but then it was all a misunderstanding. They walk off into the sunset together. 

“But there’s this other path,” he added. “It leads you into the dark forest. You can’t see what’s in there. I’m not saying we’re going to die in there, but we could fail. Failure is absolutely a possibility, but that's where magic resides. That’s the hero’s journey.” 

The arts remained the backbone of Gould’s life after undergrad. While successfully running his own art studio in Chicago, the path was becoming too obvious. In search of magic, Gould took a leap. Bags packed and wife Renee beside him, they set off for Iowa City and the University of Iowa. He was going back to school with the plan of becoming an art teacher.  

That was until a summer class taken out of boredom. At the encouragement of his professor, Gould switched focuses. Four years later, he had a master’s in leisure studies in his back pocket. More importantly, he learned of his passion for community, relationships, and enriching lives. He wondered how to turn these interests into a career.  

Like a moth to a flame, Gould went back to education. He joined the UI faculty. Over time and hundreds of students, he recognized a pattern. Students were struggling to find their direction. College was moving too fast for them to realize it. 

“This should be a time of discovery, a time of you figuring out who you are, what you care about, what resonates with you,” he said. “Only 20% of (college alumni) are doing anything remotely related to what they studied in college. So you need a degree, but what you really need, I would argue, is a tool kit so that you can say to yourself, ‘This is the big picture of what I want to do in the world. Here are the things that I’m good at and skills I have developed.’” 

He felt students had little idea how to take the time to learn about themselves. Recognizing the way students approached their education needed to change, Gould’s sense of purpose ignited. 

A steady practice guides him: Never look backward. However, it was the one time he broke this rule that realization hit. Preparing to give a commencement speech, he asked himself, “What was I thinking when I sat in those chairs and actually graduated?” 

“If you had me as a student back then in your class, the question you’d have to answer if you wanted me to come back was, ‘Why are we here?’” Gould said.  

“There could be lots of answers. This is going to make you a better citizen; this is going to give you empathy; this is going to help you understand how others live unlike yourself ... I needed that answer,” Gould added, recognizing his students had the same needs, that this could shape the way he instructed them. “So for me, I’ve always thought, ‘How do you teach a class? These should be magical experiences.’” 

His answer was to create a series of classes and a new major too. They were all unconventional, bold, magic. 

There was Life Design, The Green Room, the social innovations major. Each one offered a unique learning experience. They allowed him to combine his passions to share with his students. Different from other classes offered, the main goal was to encourage self-exploration and cultivation of one’s interests.  

Gould sought out new stories and perspectives to bring back to the classroom. He focused on finding the curiosity driving these ideas. He asked himself, “How can I use that as a match ... to start a brush fire?” 

And matches he struck. He brought in Ashton Kutcher for his students, returned with ideas from his meeting with the Dalai Lama, and invited Cirque du Soleil performers. He committed completely to helping his students find what matters to them, a rare prospect.  

“We’re taught a lot of things in college — hard skills, how to do equations, how to write a sentence, soft skills like how to show up on time,” said Ashlyn Solinsky, a current student of Gould’s class Life Design. “But nobody really teaches you how to do life. This class gives you a way to connect with other people and gives you the tools to figure that out.” 

Compared with other professors Solinsky had, Gould’s genuine care for each of his students’ journeys stuck out. 

“For him to say, ‘I want to make my living out of guiding other people, out of helping people find themselves,’ that's not typical,” she said. “It’s not a career that people would choose normally. I think that was groundbreaking.” 

The ingenuity and Gould’s talent as a professor have left a strong impact. Gould’s legacy webs out, spanning beyond the thousands of students he taught directly. They carry his lessons across the world.  

Sydney Bernard, a 2017 alumna of the UI and Gould’s former student, will always hold memories of him with her. 

“My life has forever changed from knowing Dave,” she said. “He’s one of the few people I can point to and say, ‘You made me a better person in substantial enough ways that I think the people I interact with today get to see a piece of you because of how you’ve impacted me.”

The end of his final semester as an Iowa faculty and honors program associate looms close in June — but forget calling it “retirement.” Gould prefers to call it his “Act Three.” 

With the freedom of no expectations, deadlines, or commitments — well, beyond taking up trumpet lessons again — the world is his oyster. While it remains to be seen whether 19-year-old Gould’s rockstar days will reemerge, the dream is the same as it has been his whole life. 

To keep choosing the exciting path and share the magic found there with everyone possible. 

“I was a dreamer,” Gould said. “I’ve always been a dreamer.”