Today we’d like to introduce you to Dr. Robert O’Keefe Hassell.
Hi Dr. Robert O’Keefe, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
A Testament of Faith: From Housing Projects to Higher Purpose
An Inspiring Narrative of Resilience, Transformation, and Unwavering Hope
My story is truly one of faith, resilience, and the transformative power – both personal and in the lives I’ve been blessed to touch.
I was born in Lebanon, Tennessee, which, back then, was truly a small town, very different from what it is today. My upbringing was split between two worlds: the rural landscapes of Wilson County and the inner city reality of Nashville’s Inman Court Housing Projects. I was raised by three phenomenally strong women: my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother – women who would become the architects of my character and my future.
My grandmother was born in 1936, and she carried a dream that burned like fire in her heart: that we would go further than she ever could. That dream became our legacy, our mission, our purpose. My mother – my superhero and a teacher – took that dream and built it into my imagination every single day. She made me believe I could do absolutely anything. She raised my two sisters and me in a four-room house on Carthage Highway with diligence, sacrifice, and an abundance of love. We didn’t know we were poor. How could we? Our house was filled with something poverty could never touch – love, intentionality, and unwavering faith.
But my family dynamic took a devastating turn as we navigated my father’s addiction and incarceration. Those were some of the darkest and most difficult times – spanning from my teenage years into early adulthood. Anyone who knows understands the unique pressures of being the only son in such circumstances. There were moments when it would have been easy to become a statistic, to let trauma write my story, to let my father’s path become my own.
But I had a village. A community that refused to let me fall. They didn’t just tell me I could do better – they showed me. They invested in me. They gave me something priceless: choice. The choice to break cycles. The choice to restore the narrative. The choice to transform pain into purpose.
The Foundation of Faith
At the age of seven, I professed my faith in Christ and was baptized at Mt. Zion Baptist Church in Watertown. That spiritual foundation became my anchor through the storms. Faith wasn’t just a Sunday morning ritual – it was a matter of survival, a source of hope, and a vision for the future. The church became my safety net, my training ground, a community that cultivated me and helped hone my giftedness. It was there that seeds were planted for callings I couldn’t yet imagine.
I became quite the interesting kid – energetic, full of smiles, radiating joy even when circumstances said I had no right to. That joy wasn’t denial; it was defiance. It was about choosing hope over despair, possibility over limitation, and the future over the past.
The Journey of Evolution
I’ve evolved tremendously – and I say that not with pride but with gratitude. Evolution requires acknowledging where you’ve been while refusing to stay there. It means making intentional decisions for your future, even when your present is chaotic. Every degree I pursued, every book I read, every door I walked through was an act of rebellion against the narrative that was supposed to be mine.
My journey into education was driven by what I witnessed growing up. I saw brilliant minds trapped by limited opportunities. I saw potential suffocated by systems that weren’t designed for everyone to succeed. I watched talented people in housing projects with gifts that could change the world, but with no pathway to develop them. I couldn’t accept that. So, I pursued education with purpose – not just for myself, but as a tool for liberation, as a weapon against systemic oppression, and as a bridge for those who would come after me.
I earned my Bachelor’s degree in English from Lane College, followed by a Master’s degree in Curriculum and Instruction with a focus on Education Technology, and ultimately a Doctorate in Curriculum and Instruction from Tennessee State University, with a specialization in Curriculum Planning. But these weren’t just degrees on a wall – they were keys. Keys to unlock doors that had been closed to my family for generations.
Here’s what’s beautiful about transformation: it’s never just about you.
The Unexpected Path
Here’s what’s remarkable about transformation: it rarely looks like what you imagined. My life and professional career turned out completely differently from what I expected. My career began at the Tennessee Education Lottery as a Prize Validation Analyst – analyzing winning tickets, not exactly the pulpit or the classroom I’d envisioned. But God has a way of using unexpected places to build the character you’ll need for your calling.
From there, I transitioned to working as a Pre-K teacher and After-School Site Coordinator, where I discovered that my passion for education wasn’t theoretical – it was deeply personal and practical. Eventually, this winding path led me to a career in Higher Education as a Senior Executive Director, but the journey between those points was anything but straightforward.
The Price of Progress
I held full-time jobs while completing both my Master’s and Doctoral degrees. Let me paint you a picture of what that looked like: I couldn’t afford to buy textbooks, so I would check out copies from the library when available, or I’d walk into the campus bookstore, stand in the aisles, read entire chapters, and take meticulous notes before they closed. Carless, I either walked or took the bus – winter, spring, summer, and fall. I can still feel those freezing winter mornings waiting at bus stops, and I still remember the exhaustion of working eight hours, then sitting in evening classes, and then going home to study and prepare sermons.
But here’s what I know now that I didn’t fully understand then: it was building something in me.
Every bus ride taught me patience. Every chapter read, standing in a bookstore aisle, taught me resourcefulness. Every sacrifice taught me the true cost of transformation. I have a far greater appreciation for my journey now, knowing intimately what it took to get where I am. As the poet Rumi once wrote, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” My struggles weren’t obstacles to my destiny – they were the very forge in which my character, empathy, resilience, and calling were shaped.
Those hard years didn’t happen to me; they happened for me, equipping me to minister to and teach people who are right now standing where I once stood, wondering if their sacrifice will be worth it, wondering if their dreams are possible.
A Message to the World
I can look them in the eye and say with absolute certainty: Yes. Keep going. Your struggle is not your setback – it’s your setup.
Today, I serve as Regional Prelate and Diocesan Bishop for the South Central Region of Celebration of Praise Ministries, Inc., and Executive Interim Pastor at Historic Second Baptist Church in Lebanon, Tennessee. I hold academic positions at Tennessee State University, where I work as the Senior Executive Director of the TSU SMART Innovation Center and Adjunct Professor, teaching the next generation. But more importantly, I stand as living proof that where you start doesn’t determine where you finish.
The boy who rode the bus in the freezing cold now drives a purpose-filled life. The young man who read textbooks standing in bookstore aisles now writes books to help others. The son who watched his father struggle with addiction now helps break generational chains in families across the nation. The child raised in a four-room house on Carthage Highway now builds bridges of hope in communities that look just like the one I came from.
This is not just my story – it’s a testimony to what’s possible when faith meets resilience, when community meets commitment, when pain is transformed into purpose.
To anyone reading this who is standing at a bus stop – literal or metaphorical – wondering if your sacrifice matters, wondering if your dream is too big, wondering if you have what it takes: *You do.* Your grandmother’s dreams are not dead. Your mother’s prayers are not wasted. Your struggle is not your identity – it’s your preparation.
The wound is where the Light enters. And that Light? It’s already shining in you.
Keep going. Your setup is underway.
We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
Has It Been a Smooth Road?
Absolutely not. And I think it’s important to be honest about that, because smooth roads don’t build the kind of character required for transformational leadership.
The Family Struggle
The most profound struggle was navigating my father’s addiction and incarceration during my teenage years and early adulthood. As the only son, I carried pressures that are difficult to articulate. There were moments when the weight of it all threatened to crush me – moments when becoming another statistic seemed almost inevitable. The pain of watching someone you love battle demons they can’t seem to conquer, while simultaneously trying to forge your own path forward, creates a unique kind of anguish. I had to learn early that I couldn’t let my father’s struggles write my story, even though his absence left chapters of my life feeling incomplete.
The Financial Reality
Let me be brutally honest about what pursuing higher education looked like for me: I was broke. Not “struggling a little” broke – I mean, genuinely unable to afford the basic tools I needed to succeed.
I couldn’t buy textbooks. So I became creative out of necessity. I’d check them out from the library when available, but often I’d walk into the campus bookstore, stand in the aisles for hours, and read entire chapters while taking meticulous notes before they closed for the day. Imagine that – pursuing a doctorate degree while literally standing in a bookstore aisle because you can’t afford the $200 textbook.
I didn’t have a car. I walked or took the bus – winter, spring, summer, and fall. I can still feel those freezing winter mornings waiting at bus stops, watching car after car pass by. I recall the bone-deep exhaustion of working eight-hour days, then sitting through evening classes, and finally going home to study and prepare sermons. Sleep became a luxury I couldn’t always afford.
The Unexpected Career Path
My career didn’t unfold like I had envisioned either. I started at the Tennessee Education Lottery as a Prize Validation Analyst, where I analyzed winning tickets. That wasn’t exactly the pulpit or the classroom I’d dreamed about while growing up in church. There were moments when I questioned whether I was on the right path, whether I’d somehow missed God’s calling for my life.
But what I’ve learned is that God uses unexpected places to build the character you’ll need for your actual calling. That job taught me the importance of attention to detail, integrity under pressure, and how to serve people in seemingly mundane situations. Those lessons became foundational for everything that followed.
The Identity Struggle
There was also the internal battle of reconciling where I came from with where I was trying to go. I was split between two worlds – the rural landscapes of Wilson County and the harsh realities of Nashville’s Inman Court Housing Projects. I had to learn how to navigate spaces where I was often the only one who looked like me, the only one from my background, the only one who understood what it meant to study while hungry or to pursue dreams while grieving.
The Pressure of Being “The One”
Perhaps one of the most invisible struggles was carrying the weight of my grandmother’s dream – that dream born in 1936, which was that we would go further than she ever could. That’s a beautiful burden, but it’s still a burden. When you’re the first in your family to achieve certain milestones, you’re not just carrying your own hopes – you’re carrying generations of deferred dreams. Every setback feels like you’re letting down not just yourself, but everyone who sacrificed for you to have this chance.
The Isolation of the Journey
Working full-time while pursuing advanced degrees meant I often walked alone. I missed family gatherings because I was studying. I missed social connections because I was working. There were countless nights when I wondered if the sacrifice was worth it, when I questioned whether I had anything left to give.
But Here’s the Truth
None of it was wasted.
Every bus ride taught me patience and humility. Every chapter I read, standing in that bookstore aisle, taught me the value of resourcefulness and determination. Every sacrifice taught me the true cost of transformation. Those struggles weren’t obstacles to my destiny – they were the very forge in which my character, empathy, resilience, and calling were shaped.
As Rumi wrote, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
My struggles didn’t happen to me; they happened for me. They equipped me to minister to and teach people who are right now standing where I once stood – wondering if their sacrifice will be worth it, wondering if their dreams are possible, and wondering if they can keep going.
So no, it hasn’t been smooth. But I wouldn’t trade those rough roads for anything, because they led me exactly where I needed to be, equipped with exactly what I needed to carry and serve people who need someone who understands that the struggle is real – but so is the breakthrough.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
My Work: Where Faith, Education, and Innovation Converge
What I Do
I exist at a unique intersection that many don’t expect to see: I’m simultaneously a Senior Executive Director of the Immersive Technology Division at Tennessee State University’s SMART Technology and Innovation Center, a Regional Prelate and Diocesan Bishop, and an Executive Pastor. I don’t just straddle the line between faith and education, technology and ministry – I’ve deliberately built bridges between these worlds because I believe they desperately need each other.
In my academic role, I lead initiatives that integrate cutting-edge technology and artificial intelligence into educational practices, with a laser focus on enhancing teaching and learning experiences. I train faculty, staff, and students in leveraging advanced tools to improve academic outcomes and prepare for the future of education. In my ministry role, I provide spiritual leadership and pastoral care, while also helping to guide the strategic direction of our regional church community.
What I Specialize In
AI Integration in Education – This is where my heart beats fastest professionally. I’m not interested in AI as a novelty or a threat; I see it as one of the most significant educational equity tools of our generation. I specialize in helping educators understand that AI isn’t here to replace the human element of teaching – it’s here to amplify it, to free educators from administrative burdens so they can do what they do best: connect with and inspire students.
The ASCEND-AI Framework – I developed this comprehensive approach for creating and evaluating AI prompts in education. The framework integrates key elements from the AI-PromptScale Rubric, Arrighi AI-C2 Utilization Spectrum, Bloom’s Taxonomy, and ISTE Standards. What makes ASCEND-AI special is that it allows educators to design pedagogically sound AI learning experiences that support progressive skill development while evaluating the quality of AI prompts across multiple dimensions. It’s not just theory – it’s a practical tool that aligns with established educational models and promotes various levels of cognitive engagement and AI literacy skills.
Applied AI Research – I recently released two groundbreaking books that represent years of research and practical application:
– “The AI Dissertation Advantage: Strategic Prompts to Fast-Track Your Research, Writing, and Defense” – This book is born from my own grueling journey through doctoral work while working full-time and standing in bookstore aisles. I thought: what if the next generation didn’t have to struggle quite so hard? What if we could leverage AI to democratize access to research excellence?
– “Artificial Intelligence for Theological Education: Master Prompts for Seminary and Divinity Education” – This is perhaps my most personal work, merging my technological expertise with my deep faith commitment. Seminary education has remained essentially unchanged for decades, but our students are preparing to minister in a world that’s evolving at breakneck speed. This book bridges that gap.
Ministry and Theological Leadership – As a Regional Prelate and Diocesan Bishop, I specialize in transformational leadership, pastoral care during transitions, and helping churches navigate the intersection of timeless truth and contemporary culture.
What I’m Known For
I’m known for refusing to choose between seemingly opposing worlds. People know me as someone who can preach on Sunday morning and present AI research at a technology conference on Monday – and see no contradiction between the two. I’m known for:
– Making complex technology accessible – I can explain AI integration to a 70-year-old pastor or a first-generation college student with equal clarity
– Authentic leadership – I lead from my scars, not just my strengths. People know my story, and that makes my success relatable rather than intimidating
– Bridging divides – Between HBCUs and mainstream tech, between traditional ministry and innovation, between academic theory and practical application
– Championing equity – Everything I do is filtered through the question: “How does this create pathways for people who look like me, who come from where I come from?”
What I’m Most Proud Of
Honestly? I’m most proud of the students and pastors who’ve told me I helped them believe they could do something they thought was impossible.
I’m proud of the ASCEND-AI framework because educators nationwide are utilizing it to transform their teaching practices. I’m proud of my books because they represent the tools I wish I’d had during my own journey. I’m pleased that a kid from a four-room house on Carthage Highway now has a doctorate and is helping shape the future of education at an HBCU.
But the pride that hits deepest? It’s when someone emails me to say they finished their dissertation using strategies from my book, or when a seminary student tells me they finally understand how to use AI ethically in their theological studies, or when a young person from Lebanon or Nashville’s housing projects sees my journey and thinks, “Maybe I can do that too.”
That’s the legacy my grandmother dreamed about in 1936. That’s what makes every bus ride, every standing session in that bookstore, every sacrifice worth it.
What Sets Me Apart
1. My Lived Experience – I’m not theorizing about educational equity from an ivory tower. I lived the struggle. I know what it’s like to pursue excellence without resources. That lived experience informs every framework I build, every book I write, and every student I teach.
2. Integration, Not Separation – Most people compartmentalize. They’re either tech people or faith people, either academics or practitioners. I refuse to separate what God has integrated in me. My faith informs my scholarship; my scholarship deepens my ministry; my ministry grounds my innovation.
3. HBCU Focus – I’m committed to ensuring that HBCUs aren’t left behind in the AI revolution. Too often, cutting-edge technology and research bypass institutions that serve the communities that need them most. I’m determined to change that narrative.
4. Practical Application – I don’t just publish research that sits on library shelves. Everything I create is designed to be immediately usable by real educators, real students, real pastors facing real challenges.
5. Generational Perspective – I carry my grandmother’s 1936 dream, my mother’s sacrifice, and my community’s investment. I don’t work for personal accolades; I work to honor those who made my journey possible and to clear the path for those who come after me.
Beyond the Resume
I’m also the author of several books that reflect my journey and calling:
– *The Courage to Transition: It’s Now or Never!* (2021)
– *Unleashed: From Potential to Purpose. A Devotional* (2019)
– *Clergy Conversations: Dealing Practically with the Person Behind the Pulpit* (2018)
– *Evolve* (2017)
– *Radiant Kids* (2016)
Each of these works represents a different dimension of my calling – helping people navigate change, unlock their potential, support ministry leaders, embrace growth, and inspire the next generation.
The Bottom Line
What sets me apart is simple: I remember. I remember what it felt like to be cold at that bus stop. I remember the humiliation of not being able to afford textbooks. I remember the pain of watching my father struggle. I remember the woman who raised me and the village that caught me.
And because I remember, I work with an urgency that comes from knowing that right now, somewhere, a kid is standing where I once stood. My job – my calling – is to make sure that kid has a better path than I did, while still building the character that only struggle can forge.
I’m not just teaching about AI or preaching about faith. I’m building bridges that others can walk across, creating frameworks that democratize access to excellence, and living proof that your start doesn’t determine your finish.
That’s what I do. That’s who I am. And by God’s grace, I’m just getting started.
What would you say have been one of the most important lessons you’ve learned?
The Most Important Lesson: Your Struggle Is Not Your Setback – It’s Your Setup
If I had to distill everything I’ve learned – every bus ride in the freezing cold, every chapter read standing in a bookstore aisle, every moment of doubt, every triumph, every setback – into one transformative truth, it would be this:
The very things that threaten to break you are actually building you for what’s coming next.
Let me be clear: I’m not talking about toxic positivity or spiritual bypassing. I’m not suggesting that pain doesn’t hurt or that struggle isn’t real. What I’m saying is far more radical and far more hopeful: nothing is wasted in your story.
The Lesson That Changed Everything
For years, I looked at my circumstances with shame and frustration. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t afford textbooks. I felt inadequate riding the bus while my classmates drove past in cars. I was angry about my father’s addiction and the void it created in my life. I questioned why my path had to be so hard when others seemed to glide effortlessly toward their dreams.
But here’s what I finally understood: I wasn’t being punished. I was being prepared.
Every struggle was building something in me that I would desperately need later. The patience learned while waiting at bus stops? That’s the same patience I now need when implementing institutional change in higher education. The resourcefulness developed from reading textbooks in bookstore aisles? That’s the same creativity I now use to make cutting-edge technology accessible to under-resourced communities. The empathy forged watching my father battle addiction? That’s the compassion that allows me to minister effectively to broken people who need grace, not judgment.
My wounds became my credentials.
The Universal Truth
This lesson transcends my specific circumstances. It applies to you, wherever you are, whatever you’re facing:
If you’re a single parent** working two jobs while trying to finish your degree – that exhaustion you feel? It’s building resilience. Your children are watching you refuse to quit, and you’re teaching them more about perseverance than any classroom ever could.
If you’re an entrepreneur who’s failed three times and is terrified to try again, those failures aren’t evidence that you’re not meant to succeed. They’re education. You’re learning what doesn’t work, which is the only path to discovering what does.
If you’re battling an illness that has derailed your plans and stolen your timeline, this season isn’t wasted. You’re learning things about faith, about your own strength, about what truly matters that you couldn’t learn any other way.
If you’re recovering from addiction and rebuilding your life one painful day at a time, your past doesn’t disqualify you. Your story of redemption will be the very thing that saves someone else.
If you’re an immigrant navigating a new culture, learning a new language, starting over from scratch, you’re not behind. You’re being stretched. The adaptability you’re developing will become your superpower.
If you’ve been rejected, overlooked, or underestimated – they’re not seeing what God is building in you. Your wilderness is not your wasteland; it’s your training ground.
The Transformation Principle
Here’s what I’ve learned about transformation that nobody tells you: it hurts. Real transformation requires the death of who you were so that who you’re becoming can emerge. It’s painful because you’re literally being rebuilt from the inside out.
The caterpillar doesn’t become a butterfly through a gentle, comfortable process. It liquefies. It breaks down completely in the cocoon before it can be reconstructed into something that can fly. If you tried to “help” by cutting the cocoon open early, you’d kill it. The struggle is essential.
Your struggle is not your enemy. It’s your training.
Every great leader I’ve studied – spiritual, political, educational, social – was forged in the fire of adversity. Moses spent 40 years in the wilderness before he could lead. Joseph was betrayed and imprisoned before he could save nations. Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison before he could transform a country. Dr. King faced constant death threats before he could inspire a movement.
Your test is creating your testimony.
The Kipling Principle
Rudyard Kipling understood this truth when he wrote his powerful poem “If—” which speaks to maintaining composure and character through both triumph and disaster. He wrote about treating those two impostors – success and failure – equally. About keeping your head when all about you are losing theirs. About forcing your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone.
That’s the essence of what I learned: character is forged in crisis, not in comfort.
When I was standing in those bookstore aisles, I was learning to meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two impostors just the same. When I was riding the bus in freezing weather, I was learning to hold on when there was nothing in me except the will that said, “Hold on.” When I was navigating my father’s addiction, I was learning that losing didn’t mean I was lost – it meant I was being refined.
The poem speaks to filling every unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run. That was my doctoral journey – every minute counted, every sacrifice mattered, every struggle was moving me forward even when it felt like I was standing still.
The Practical Application
So what do you do with this lesson? How does understanding that your struggle is your setup actually change how you live?
1. Stop apologizing for where you are. Your current chapter is not your final chapter. The fact that you’re still in school at 35, still rebuilding at 50, still learning at 60 – that’s not embarrassing. That’s evidence of courage.
2. Pay attention to what your struggle is teaching you. Every hardship develops a capacity in you. What are you learning about yourself? About resilience? About faith? About the community? Those lessons are being deposited in you for a purpose.
3. Refuse to waste your pain. Your struggle has value beyond just getting you to the next level. Your story will be someone else’s survival guide. Your testimony will be someone else’s hope. Document your journey. Remember the details. You’ll need them later to help someone else.
4. Trust the timing. You’re not late. You’re not behind. You’re exactly where you need to be, learning exactly what you need to learn, becoming exactly who you need to become for what’s coming next.
5. Look for the village. I survived because of a community that refused to let me fall. You weren’t meant to do this alone. Find your people. Accept help. Be willing to be invested in. And then, when you get to the other side, turn around and invest in someone else.
The Promise
Here’s what I can promise you from the other side of my struggle:
It gets better. Not easier, necessarily, but better. You get stronger. You get wiser. You develop a perspective that can’t be shaken because it was forged in fire.
It’s worth it. Every sacrifice. Every tear. Every moment you wanted to quit but didn’t. When you look back, you’ll see that none of it was wasted.
You’re closer than you think. The fact that you’re still reading this, still believing, still trying – that’s evidence that your breakthrough is coming. Dead things don’t struggle. The fact that you’re wrestling means you’re alive, you’re growing, you’re transforming.
The Call
So here’s my challenge to you, wherever you are in your journey:
Keep going.
When you’re standing at that bus stop – literal or metaphorical – and it’s cold, you’re tired, and you’re wondering if your sacrifice matters, keep going.
When you’re reading textbooks in bookstore aisles or studying by candlelight or working three jobs or rebuilding after failure or recovering from trauma: Keep going.
When people count you out, when systems fail you, when doors slam in your face, when you can’t see the path forward: Keep going.
When doubt and fear whisper that you’re not enough, when exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you, when the goal seems impossibly distant: Keep going.
Because here’s the truth they don’t tell you: Your struggle is not your setback. It’s your setup.
You’re not being broken down; you’re being built up. You’re not falling apart; you’re falling into place. You’re not losing yourself; you’re finding who you were always meant to be.
The boy who rode the bus now drives a purpose. The young man who couldn’t afford textbooks now writes books to help others. The kid from the housing projects now helps build frameworks that transform education. The son who watched his father struggle with addiction now helps break generational chains.
That’s not despite my struggle. That’s because of it.
And the same is true for you.
Your grandmother’s dream is not dead. Your mother’s prayers are not wasted. Your sacrifice is not in vain. Your struggle is not your identity – it’s your preparation.
Like Kipling wrote about in his timeless poem, you’re learning to walk with kings without losing the common touch. You’re learning to fill each unforgiving minute with purpose. You’re learning that triumph and disaster are both temporary teachers on the path to becoming who you were meant to be.
The struggle builds character. The character creates the calling. The calling changes the world.
Now keep going. Your setup is underway. And the world is waiting for what only you can become.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: @drokeefetoday
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/14QtEWAAvi7/
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/robert-o-keefe-hassell-ed-d-7b57ab91/
- Twitter: https://x.com/drokeefetoday?t=pQ5cabZuSWeSclLcdVnJLA&s=09
