UNIVERSITY PARK, Pa. — In a quiet office tucked inside Penn State’s CEDAR Building, amid decades-old books and well-worn syllabi, James Herbert, emeritus professor of counselor education, and rehabilitation and human services, recently found a stack of thank-you notes and copies of emails from former students — reminders of the lives he’s helped shape over nearly four decades.
Herbert officially retired this summer from the College of Education after a 39-year career that left an indelible mark on the fields of rehabilitation counseling and human services.
But for all the lectures given, research papers published, and programs built, Herbert is quick to point out that the most transformative work didn’t happen at the front of a classroom.
“The truth of the matter is, the most impactful moments weren’t in the classroom,” Herbert said during a reflective interview. “They were one-on-one conversations. When someone is unsure of their path or their ability, and you’re able to reflect their worth back to them and provide the support they need — that’s where change happens.”
Building a program and a profession
When Herbert joined Penn State in 1986, the rehabilitation education program (as it was known then) had a rich history but was in flux. He soon took over as program head — remarkably, while still untenured.
“Without Jim’s contributions, one of the oldest and most prominent rehabilitation programs in the country would not exist,” said Liza Conyers, professor of rehabilitation and human services. “He has been the lifeblood of the program. Through his leadership, he expanded it and mentored generations of students and faculty.”
Herbert’s research focused on clinical supervision practices, career placement for individuals with disabilities, and post-secondary outcomes for students with disabilities. He secured more than $8 million in grant funding, published dozens of peer-reviewed articles, and earned national recognition for his research, teaching and professional service — including the Distinguished Career in Rehabilitation Education Award from the National Council on Rehabilitation Education in 2022.
Yet despite his accolades, Herbert always kept his focus on student success.
“Be prepared. Be engaged. Be enthusiastic. Be authentic,” he said, summarizing his teaching philosophy. “Students can spot insincerity from a mile away.”
Mentorship with meaning
Allison Fleming, associate professor of rehabilitation and human services, said Herbert was never one to seek recognition, but consistently stepped up to serve others.
“He’s honest and straightforward, and offers concrete suggestions for improvement,” Fleming said. “He wants those around him to succeed and is willing to make personal sacrifices to make sure they do.”
That dedication didn’t go unnoticed by colleagues, who recall Herbert’s knack for supporting others with both rigor and humor.
“I remember the expression on your face when you picked me up for my job interview in 2009 and I asked, ‘Who’s Joe Paterno?’” joked Deirdre O’Sullivan, associate professor of rehabilitation and human services, referencing the former Penn State football coach. “You were so close to turning the car around and taking me back to the airport.”
Over the years, O’Sullivan and Herbert co-chaired search committees, interviewed doctoral candidates, and shared countless memories — like singing in vans en route to conferences and occasionally holding impromptu “meetings” over drinks on the patio of the Nittany Lion Inn.
“Your fellow PIC [professor-in-charge] in arms,” O’Sullivan signed off, pledging to carry on Herbert’s legacy through academic leadership and journal work.
'He believed in me'
Herbert’s commitment to students was perhaps most visible in the life stories he helped redirect.
“As a blind woman from Turkey, I was told my chances of succeeding in academia were zero,” wrote Deniz Aydemir-Döke, a former doctoral student. “But I never take ‘no’ for an answer.”
She recalled the day she received her doctoral program acceptance call from Herbert — while in the emergency room after a car accident.
“I was bruised and bandaged, and my partner said, ‘You’re not supposed to smile — can you please stop?’ But I couldn’t help it,” Aydemir-Döke said.
Aydemir-Döke went on to become a professor, publish in top-tier journals and serve as a mentor to students around the world.
“Thank you for being my enabler in the best possible way,” she wrote to Herbert. “I wouldn’t be who I am today without your belief in what I could do.”
Leading by example
That sentiment was echoed by Michael Accordino, now a professor and program director at Springfield College, who worked with Herbert as both a master’s and doctoral student.
“He taught me how to present research clearly and concisely, but also how to conduct myself professionally — with genuineness and sincerity,” Accordino said. “His model of behavior was always winsome and refreshing.”
‘It was observable’
Herbert’s roots in rehabilitation were personal. Growing up with a younger brother with Down syndrome, he said, he developed a firsthand understanding of disability, stigma and the power of support.
“What I loved about the field is that you can see the change and how it impacts on improving the quality of life for people with disabilities,” he said. “It’s that simple. That’s the beauty of rehab.”
Still, he acknowledged persistent challenges in the profession — from underpaid positions to overwhelming caseloads and outdated training models. But he remained optimistic, he said, especially about the students he’s helped prepare.
“I’ve worked with a lot of good people — really good people,” he said.
Among his proudest contributions was his work with the Summer Academy for students who are blind or deaf, a college and career readiness program that helped hundreds of young people see new possibilities for their futures.
“Both academies provided the opportunity for me to let these students know that, ‘Yes, college is a real option for you.’ And that’s something they may never have heard before or thought was possible,” he said.
Closing the door, leaving it open
As he packed up his office for the final time, Herbert said, he reflected on the mementos, letters and faces that marked his career.
“I hope I was able to walk beside people at a time when they needed it,” he said. “If I did that, then I did my job.”