Why it's also important NOT to run

This past Labor Day weekend was the Disneyland Half Marathon Weekend, but sadly, and very disappointingly, I had to forego my plans for 13.1 miles of running glory in my first-ever attempt at a long-distance race. My one word for 2011 was "demand," as I was had ambitious plans for this year (quitting my job to start my PhD, plunging into long-distance running, moving 1200 miles from Seattle to Los Angeles, turning 30), and in the process I've had to learn "demanding" of yourself means much more than simply trying to accomplish a whole lot of feats all at one time. It also means paying attention to the demands of your limitations, and realizing when it's time to reassess your goals and revising them to be met at some other time.

By the end of July, I had been making fantastic progress on reaching this half-marathon. My long-distance runs reached 8 miles, keeping me extremely confident in my ability to reach 13.1 in early September. Wade and I traveled to Southern California at the end of July to hunt for an apartment, and spent some time in Disneyland where I spent some time envisioning myself running with the throngs of people through the parks on a quest for that half-marathon finisher's medal. We returned to Seattle having successfully found a place, and I went back to work on my training.

My shorter runs that week went beautifully. In fact, in each of my 30-minute runs, I ran the farthest within that time period I had ever run before. I was looking forward to trying a 9 mile run that Saturday--I was really beginning to enjoy running through West Seattle on a weekly basis.

I started out just fine, but about an hour into the run I began feeling really tired and simply ready for the run to be over with. I mistakenly routed myself up a very steep street, and just did not want to push myself up that hill. I decided I'd walk up the hill and pick up my running at the top, but as I reached the top I could feel the usual aches that come after my long distance runs and realized I would not be able to start back up again. Sadly, this meant I had to walk about three miles to get home, but I just could not get back into it. I figured it was a bad day, I'd rest up for a couple days like normal, and get back on schedule to continue.

A couple days later, I set out on the first of my two shorter 30 minute runs during the week. This one started okay, but perhaps 8 minutes or so into it I felt very sharp pains in my knee (similar to what I felt that Saturday) and I could not run without limping. I had promised myself that if I felt any sort of pain I would stop--so I stopped, walked home, chalked it up to not allowing my legs enough time to heal between runs, and decided to forego my second short run of the week. I figured I'd wait about four days before trying another run to see how it goes. At this point I started to worry that it was something much worse, and that I'd need to see someone about it.

I did Tweet and post on Facebook about my woes, and got some good support and advice from people. I also went back to my marathoning book to reread the chapter on injuries. The best I could determine at that point was I was suffering from runner's knee, brought on by increasing mileage too quickly, but I wanted to see if I waited for the recommended number of days if that would make a difference. Four days later I set out to try to run 4 miles, and sure enough, nearly 15 minutes into the run I started to feel the pain again (albeit much duller than before). That was when I decided I needed to stop for a bit.

I did get an ice pack to help with post-run recovery, but I was faced with a bit of a dilemma. I wanted to see a doctor, yet at this point I was about two weeks from quitting my job and beginning my 1200 mile move down the Pacific coast. With all the other little tasks and activities that had to take place between now and then, wrapping up my job, and the race being literally a week and a half after we arrived in LA, I just didn't think I could squeeze it in. I tried one last time a week later to go for a run, and while I didn't feel any pain, I became very nervous and realized I didn't trust running on my knee without some professional advice and decided not to finish that run. At that point I decided I needed to forego this half-marathon, and as soon as my student health insurance kicked in I would try to see someone at UCLA about what I could do to get back on a training course again and attempt a half-marathon at some other point in the future.

It became a very emotional decision for me. I don't typically set goals for myself that I have to revisit and revise at any point--I (try to) accomplish every task I set out to do within the time frame I give myself to accomplish it. This was a very different kind of goal for me though, and it demonstrated to me how much I needed to learn about my physical abilities and limitations. I had a difficult conversation with my mother where she reminded me how both she and my father stopped any type of running as adults--she on the recommendation of her doctor, he after injuring his knee (around my age) when involved in a lot of races. My biggest fear is that I will get similar advice, that it just isn't in the cards for me, because all of a sudden this has become a personal goal I have begun to care about a great deal.

Wade and I still went to Disneyland over Labor Day weekend, though, which was somewhat difficult for me to face. We had registered for the race, and purchased pins commemorating the race which we had to pick up with our race packets (otherwise we would never get them, and we each spent a little money on those pins). We also signed up for the pre-race dinner which also cost a bit of money that we wanted to take advantage of. So here I was, still trying to figure out how to be okay with foregoing the race, surrounded by people who were all about to take part in this event, many for whom it was not their first, and feeling those same feelings of frustration and disappointment I had felt before. I knew not running was the best decision for me, but in my mind I began thinking, "Well, what about running some and walking some? What about speed-walking through the entire course?" It had been a good six weeks since I had any solid training for this race, and I did not want to be pulled off the course for not being able to complete the race on time, but I kept wondering if there were other ways I could finish.

I became very irritable and grouchy, and had to apologize to Wade several times for snapping back while we were picking up our packets and having dinner at the pre-race party. And I have to say, it was a bit stinging on Sunday to spend time in the parks watching all the people walking around with the finishers' medal around their necks, realizing that for so long (since January, in fact) I had imagined myself with one as well. As I told Wade on Saturday, I didn't want this to be the closest I ever get to finishing that race--and I am scared that it will be. But I know I made the best decision, and I'm sure after I get to speak with someone about it I will be able to sit down, revisit my goal, revise my plan, and get back "on track" all over again.

Number one to me throughout this process is care for myself, which is why I refuse to injure myself over something like this goal. I'm doing this as a way to challenge myself and improve my overall well-being--keeping myself healthy is far more important than making this happen right now, this year. Perhaps I bit off more than I could chew in setting my 2011 goals (which is okay), or perhaps I am learning something new about myself (and the human condition) that will have far greater opportunities for future growth than I can currently expect. So while I stayed off the course this year, look out in the future--I'll be out there, finishing my race, soon enough!

Bryce
Follow me on Twitter: @BryceEHughes

Another word on my "One Word"

Teri Bump asked on Twitter: How has your #Oneword2011 impacted your year--so far? My word for this year is DEMAND, which I deduced back in an earlier post of mine from January. Since July 1 marked the start of the second half of the year, I thought I'd reflect back to see just how this word has impacted and influenced my first six months of 2011.

As I mentioned in my post, the word came from a quote I tweeted as my 2000th tweet (wow, to think I reached 2000 in January and recently hit 3000 in June, more than 1000 tweets in 6 months!):

"The hope of the world lies in what one demands, not of others, but of oneself." -- James Baldwin

One indelible mark Jesuit education has made on my life is a commitment to make the world a better place. Social justice is a hallmark of the Jesuit educational tradition, and the giving of one's self through service is an infectious outcome of Jesuit universities' commitment to that tradition. I am a person who has always maintained high expectations of myself, and I have seen first-hand the legacy that can be left by adhering to a philosophy of being the change one wishes to see in the world (thanks, Gandhi!). To me, the key word within Baldwin's quote is the word "demand," which goes above and beyond the Gandhi's "be the change" perspective. "Being" is a passive verb; "demanding" is an active verb, often done toward someone or something. Making a demand means expecting returns (often from others); making a demand of yourself means you have to produce results for the biggest critic you will ever face in life.

This year, this has mainly applied to moving toward starting my doctoral program. I feel like I got into the best PhD program I could have, and much of this is due to what I demanded of myself in the application process. Now committing to a program and working toward a terminal degree will require a demand of myself to produce the best academic work I ever have in my life. And I want the challenge. I look forward to graduating, when I can look back and reflect that I had pushed myself farther in my life than I ever had before. I've accomplished something very few people in this world have even started. I'm also pushing my comfort levels a bit too in picking up and moving to a city that is fairly intimidating (Los Angeles). It's shaping up to be a major test, but I know that with immense stretching will come immense growth.

Another area where I'm demanding much from myself is my half-marathon (and soon marathon) training. I'm already seeing some growth in that area as I run longer and longer distances. This Saturday I'm planning to run 7 miles, which will surpass my 6 mile run from June 25 as the longest distance I have ever run in my life. That's the part of this process that has amazed me the most: every other Saturday, when I go for my long run, I realize that I continue to beat my personal record for longest distance ever run in my life. It's an overwhelming but empowering thought each time I complete a longer distance. It makes me look forward to beating that record two weeks later.

Now, demand does not mean forgetting about self-care either. If you are demanding high returns from yourself, you also understand that not taking care of yourself diminishes the results you can continually provide. I have a lot of forces pulling me in many directions right now (pending move, marathon training, fiancee, pets, work, church commitments, wedding planning, etc.) which can become very overwhelming to think about all at once. Amidst all this, I have to make sure I'm giving myself enough time to sleep, as well as eating healthy (which I could improve), taking time to do things I enjoy, and otherwise finding enough balance that I don't physically, mentally, or emotionally fall apart. The half-marathon training helps as physical exercise is generally the main item of which I don't get enough, and sleep is the second; knowing these helps me maintain a bit of focus and balance in my life. You may even consider self-care as an item I demand of myself--I demand to keep my life in balance!

Did you choose a "one word" for 2011? How have you seen that word shaping your first six months of 2011? If not, what word would you choose as your "one word" to define how 2011 is shaping up for you?

Bryce
Follow me on Twitter: @BryceEHughes

What I'm reading right now: Mentor, by Laurent Daloz

I feel blessed that my Student Affairs position (and functional area) allows me the opportunity to maintain longer term relationships with the students I serve on campus. Compared to my colleagues at the community college where I work, this is a fairly rare opportunity as our student affairs are oriented more around Student Services, so many of them handle long lines of students requesting services, rather than providing prolonged support or mentorship.

I am currently reading Mentor by Laurent Daloz, and though I am only into the second chapter, the book has already given me enough to think about that I've been inspired to write. Lisa Endersby and I have been involved in a long-term conversation regarding mentorship within student affairs, including planning a presentation for the upcoming 2012 NASPA conference. As a greater proportion of the students we serve in the community college are adult learners (compared to my four-year counterparts), I'm finding the book extremely relevant and descriptive of how I conceptualize my work. Granted, I will only be in this position for another month and a half, but the book was purchased for departmental usage and my reading validates it as a valuable resource for our work.

Daloz is using mentorship as a framework for working with adult learners in reaching their educational goals. In particular, he uses the metaphor of journey to describe the educational path of adult learners, and he describes mentors as the guides on that journey. I've had many conversations about the role of mentors in the lives of underrepresented and underserved students as these mentors can provide the type of guidance traditional students receive before and through their college experiences, but I haven't given as much thought to this role in the journeys of adult learners. In particular, I love how he describes the role of a mentor as engendering trust, issuing a challenge, providing encouragement, and offering a vision (p. 31). (Anyone notice challenge and support there?) These themes are of particular importance to adult learners as it respects the life experience they bring to college but recognizes that they too are students who want to learn and are looking to maximize their time "out of life"--not immediately focused on family or work--that they are on campus, in college. My experience working with adult learners is that they simply need reassurance to rebuild their confidence as students--that they are on the right track--rather than the more intensive needs that traditional students bring as emerging adults trying to figure out what will happen next for them in life. Often when adult learners return to school they fear they no longer have the same energy/ability/capacity to be students again, and simply need to be shown that yes, they do, and moreso, their life experiences can provide even better preparation than those moving from one school to the next.

Daloz also does a fantastic job balancing the content of his book--application of developmental theory, framework for mentorship--with stories from his own experience as an educator. As I continue to read I may come across more blog inspiration, but for now all I can say is that I highly recommend this book. Check it out from the library, or convince your director to add it to your departmental resources!

Bryce
Follow me on Twitter: @BryceEHughes

Reference: Daloz, L.A. (1999). Mentor: Guiding the journey of adult learners (2nd Ed.). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

A Small Sign of a Big Legacy

On Saturday, I visited the place I went to college, Gonzaga University, for somewhat a final time in advance of my move to Los Angeles this August. Whenever I'm in/around Spokane, I love to drop by the campus, visit the bookstore, walk around to see what has changed and what has stayed the same, and reminisce about the "good old days." I graduated about seven years ago, so there definitely has been a lot of change over the years. Yet it still feels so familiar, trapped in time, where it can be 2004 again...

When I dropped by the residence hall where I lived my first two years, though, I was caught by a very touching surprise--through the front window, you could see the window of the RD's room right inside the hall entrance. And on that window, somewhat obscured by the glass and the fact the hall was dark, was a placard that I instantly recognized--a Safe Space placard.

Now, when I lived in this hall (2000-2002), I was just barely coming out. My first year I was able to come out to my friends, roommate, even RA, but I was still fairly cautious during my years in the hall. In fact, I had even heard a rumor my second year that someone in the hall knew there was a gay guy living there, and if he ever found out, he'd beat him up. So while I wasn't terribly "closeted" as you might say, I also felt a need to be on my guard to make sure I stayed safe while I lived there. My roommate was phenomenal, and I was a member of the gay-straight alliance on campus. I had a support network, but I also knew the reality of what life is like for an openly gay person in the world.

Now fast-forward to 2005. I'm a year into my position as an AmeriCorps volunteer at Gonzaga building up a brand-new LGBT Resource Center we successfully proposed just before I graduated. I got an email from a newer Philosophy faculty member to find out if we had a program like a Safe Space program, and how she could participate. Honestly, we did not. We wanted one when I was a student, but we never thought we could sway faculty and staff to participate in a training put together by us students. So she and I met several times, and I utilized the awesome network within the Consortium of LGBTQ Higher Education Resource Professionals, and we crafted a Safe Space program. I found a very simple symbol to use for our placards (the sign you post after you complete the session), a rainbow squiggle, and passed it along to a graphic designer friend of mine to clean it up and make it look professional. We were able to run the Safe Space program the summer just before I took off for graduate school, facilitating it for much of our Student Life staff. My faculty instigator continues to stay in touch and keep me informed on how the program has developed. She reassures me it has grown by leaps and bounds, becoming extremely successful and popular on campus.

But to see my old residence hall, where I was struggling with my own identity, and to imagine what it may have been like for a college student like me to see a Safe Space placard IN MY LIVING SPACE, I started to get a little choked up inside. It was a fantastic reminder of the role we all play in empowering our students to identify a need, advocate for a cause, and/or make a difference in their campus. My work led me toward an interest in the study of higher education, and the self-efficacy I developed from being a student leader has pushed me to seek more for myself and my accomplishments in life. And to think how quickly that could change for a student who may feel unwelcome or unsafe in their own campus living environment. Above all, nothing can be more meaningful for someone to realize that they left a positive legacy, no matter how small. It reminds me of our constantly repeated adage, "Leave a place better than you found it."

While it was great to see the campus again before I took off for my doctorate, what will leave the greatest impression on me--and continue to push me to seek more, to DEMAND (to use my one word for 2011) more from myself--is seeing that small sign of where I made a difference in the world, and to realize that there's still so much more to come.

Bryce
Follow me on Twitter: @BryceEHughes

What I've Learned from (Half-) Marathon Training So Far...

When you are training for a long-distance race, like my upcoming half-marathon, you find yourself with lots of time to think and reflect, especially upon the training process itself. Every other Saturday I ramp up my training and push myself to complete a progressively longer "long run" as Race Day approaches. This means I also get progressively longer periods of time to reflect as I run, typically thinking long and hard about the task at hand. And, first running 4 miles, and then 5 this past Saturday, I got to thinking about what I've been learning throughout this process--and how that might apply to other areas of my life.

First, I found I'm learning quite about persistence (or maybe it's tenacity?). On the mornings that I'm simply trying to put in 30 minutes of running, I've begun to look less and less forward to the tedium of running that same little bit as I just want it done, like a routine exercise. On the mornings that I'm pushing myself to do a longer run, I realize that the farther the distance I set out to complete, the much longer the time I spend in the activity of running. At a rate of 1 mile per 10 minutes, progressively pushing myself toward 13.1 miles means some days I will be running for longer than an hour--quite a bit of time for me to be engaged solely in one activity with ample time to daydream, and to think about how long it has been since I started. The real task in completing long distance is the mental task of not letting your psychology overtake your desire to complete your goal, and so I continually push myself to focus my thoughts toward keeping going, and not toward how much I'd like to be finished. I can see this sometimes with other tedious and routine tasks in my life--at work, at home (chores!), in my community involvement--and that a great deal of learning to persist toward one's goals involves learning how to love the journey--or at least of keeping your sight focused on the goal and continually committing yourself to getting there.

The most difficult aspect of my training regimen is the part where I get up, get dressed, and get out the door. I used to run in the evenings, but I've noticed that it's not as effective for me (mentally in particular) to try to train after a full day of work (and commuting). I have much better energy in the morning to complete a successful run, I feel much better throughout the day having run first thing in the morning, and I sleep a little better when I don't run as close to the end of the day. But that moment that my alarm goes off is a point in the day many of us dread--I'm not feeling the external pressure to leap out of bed to rush out the door to work, it's all an internal motivation to get out of bed as early as I do to ensure I get my run in before I start my day. But once I've pushed myself to get up, get dressed, and start my warm up walk, all of a sudden I'm raring to go. Getting started--taking that first step toward reaching a goal can be the most challenging aspect of the entire process--my life has been successful to this point; maybe it's not so bad if I don't achieve this one thing. But once you take that small first step--and for me, five minutes of walking to warm up for my run is a fantastic first step that I've learned gets me going--all of a sudden your major mental blocks start to clear and you're ready to continue your progress toward your goal. (This works with house-cleaning too; once you've accomplished one cleaning task you're ready to start another. It's weird.) And once you've overcome that one hurdle--in my case, finishing another successful 30 minute maintenance run--you feel ready to attack another. (Granted, in race training, it makes no sense to immediately start another 30 minute run. But for housecleaning, once you've loaded the dishwasher, wouldn't it feel great to wipe down the counters?) The biggest mental block in accomplishing something is at the start--but once you discipline yourself to start, clearing a small hurdle can motivate you to complete the major task at hand.

A well-laid plan toward achieving some goal can make that goal seem far more attainable. Sometimes we set goals for ourselves in areas we are already familiar, so we alter the path we used to reach a previous goal to fit our new plans. But more often than not, setting a goal means achieving something new, and in my case, the furthest I've ever run in my life was 3 miles on a track. When my fiancée approached me about setting a goal of running a marathon, I needed a) the confidence that I could realistically reach this goal in my life and b) some advice on the best way to prepare. Reading works very well for me, so immediately I went to a book store and picked up a copy of Marathoning for Mortals, on the bookstore staff member's recommendation. While I was reading, I focused on building up my running endurance (slowly) and took mental notes on items to remember when it came time to train for distance. After not too long I sat down and mapped out a training plan, and started tracking my progress. Often, when I'm not feeling motivated to run, all I have to do is convince myself to "make this week a good training week," and sure enough, come Saturday, it has been. Having a plan, breaking down larger goals into smaller parts, and keeping the deadline in sight are all crucial components of the goal-setting process. The other piece of advice from the book was to realize that one cannot expect a training plan to remain set in stone; as Stacy Oliver recently posted, life happens, and your plan will have to respond. One thing the book assured me--even if you have to skip one day, it will not throw off your overall goal, just get back on the schedule as soon as you can. And no single template fits all--you have to determine, to experiment, and see what type of plan will work for you to be successful.

I think the most significant thing I've learned (so far) from my half-marathon training is how I can push myself to do more than I ever thought I could. Perhaps I'm only now successfully training for the race because of other successes throughout my life, but I'm finding the little I push myself further every other Saturday to go farther the more 13.1 miles is feeling like an attainable distance for me. After I completed my 4 mile run a few weeks ago, I had the realization that 4 miles was officially the longest distance I've ever run at once in my entire life. I was very proud of what I accomplished, and started to look toward my next long run of 5 miles as a way of breaking my personal best. Sure enough, days before my 5-mile run I started to get anxious about completing that distance. "Well, I knew I could run 3 miles, so 4 was probably in reach, but I'm worried 5 might be beyond what I can accomplish." But I got up on that Saturday, got ready, and started my warm-up walk. There was a point in the middle of the run that I started to realize just how much further I was pushing myself, and with long-distance running it really means a much longer run duration; my training materials emphasized maintaining a pace where you don't tire yourself out. But as I persisted, overcame the obstacles of a longer run duration and a few hills, all of a sudden I rounded the corner toward the last few blocks, and realized that I had done it. Now 5 miles is now officially the longest I've ever run in my life, and with the experience of advancing from 4 to 5 miles behind me, I feel far more confident in being able to reach my next distance goal (which I believe is 6, close to half the distance I will eventually be racing).

One of the main reasons I've been thinking about all of this is a different upcoming transition in my life that will involve reaching a goal that very few people in the world ever will--starting my PhD program. For the most part, thinking about my doctorate has me extremely excited. This was within my plan from the beginning, and it feels great to be taking a next step in my professional and educational journey. And attending our commencement this year, looking at photos from other commencements, and Googling what the UC doctoral robes will look like have me daydreaming of what it will feel like to be at the end. But in the meantime, I begin thinking about all the work ahead, the classes, the research, the dissertation, the mental shift in how I approach my work, and it starts to feel a bit overwhelming. Starting the application process was a major first step--I'm sure many of you who have gone through the application process, whether for your Master's or your doctorate, feel the same way (asking for recommendations and writing a personal statement can take some energy!)--but now I've made a commitment to do this work, and at the doctoral level I set a great deal of my timetable for completion. As I work toward this half-marathon, a distance I don't think I ever imagined myself running, and possibly a marathon one day, I'm realizing that the self-efficacy I'm building in reaching these goals may help me persist through and complete my doctorate, on my time table, pushed by my own self-motivation.

How do you prepare for the half-marathons and marathons in your life? What sort of goal setting advice would you give others? How do you motivate yourself to achieve?

Bryce

Student Affairs in Multicultural Affairs

Back in April, Vijay Pendakur, Director of the Office of Multicultural Student Success at DePaul University, posed a few questions on his blog regarding the link between working in multicultural student affairs and student affairs professional preparation Master's programs. As a graduate of a student affairs preparation program (SDA '08, Seattle University) working in multicultural student affairs (Program Support Supervisor for Commencement Achievement Program in the Office of Diversity and Multicultural Affairs at Green River Community College), these questions caused me to reflect on my experience. How would I answer these questions? What kind of advice would I give current graduate students hoping to work in diversity and multicultural affairs after graduation?

(Vijay's words are italicized; my responses are not.)

1. How many masters programs in higher education, student development, or educational leadership offer one or more courses to prepare students to work in Multicultural Student Affairs? To be more specific, how many masters programs effectively teach graduate students about the key issues, theories, and practices that inform successful work in a Multicultural Affairs department? A best practice would be programs that interweave this knowledge throughout their core curriculum, rather than compartmentalizing this set of issues into one course. Have any of you attended a program that does this well? Let us know!

To begin, I want to clarify how I view the role of a Student Affairs or Higher Education Master's program in the professional preparation of student affairs practitioners. I do not believe that our Master's programs are specifically and exclusively designed to be a credential for working in student affairs. Otherwise, we may as well offer them as smaller certification programs instead. So to say that any would offer courses specifically designed to train students for work in multicultural student affairs would mean that we ought to provide a variety of courses that focus on the functions of student affairs and lead us back to whether our Master's programs should not simply be offered as credentialing programs and not full-fledged Master's degrees.

I also think it begs the question about how permeable the boundaries between student affairs functional areas should or should not be--how hard should it be for a professional wishing to work in a different functional area to break into that functional area? I think there are specific skills and content domains that are exclusive to each functional area, but I don't think our programs should delineate themselves into molding every student into one area or another (internships, assistantships, and practicums do allow students to specialize).

So I definitely agree with the latter point that a best practice would be a program that interweaves this information throughout. And a start would be a theory class that makes sure racial, sexual orientation, gender, and other identity development is a required theory to learn for successful course completion. Another would be a program that actively fosters the development of cultural competence. Many professionals successfully run diversity and multicultural affairs offices without student affairs degrees, so I wouldn't say that it should be a requirement, but a student affairs professional has to know there is a specific content domain for working in diversity and multicultural affairs and that person should be willing to be open to learning as much about diversity and equity as possible. (I would hope most people working in student affairs already are anyways.)

2. How many masters programs in higher education have structured graduate assistantships or practicums in their universities’ Multicultural Affairs or diversity-focused offices? Without this type of practical experience, it will be difficult for newly minted student affairs grads to compete for coordinator positions in Multicultural Affairs departments.

To me, assistantships, practicums, and internships are the best way for prospective multicultural student affairs professionals to learn about the relevant practices and issues facing these programs in higher education. As I mentioned earlier, learning key theories and developing important cultural competence skills, knowledge, and attitudes is within the domain of the classroom, but understanding how to do the work of a multicultural student affairs professional is the work of the apprentice. I took required classes in Social Justice and Multiculturalism for my Master's degree, but I learned a lot more about the practical side of working in multicultural student affairs by interning in Seattle University's Office of Multicultural Affairs.

To me, the real treasure of completing a student affairs preparation program is the opportunity to link theory to practice through having side-by-side experiences exploring college student development (and college administration) from an academic (theoretical) standpoint and from a practical standpoint. We are not simply learning about how to work with college students and how to work in a higher education environment--we are also learning to change the way we think about issues and the way we learn about the world around us. We develop new research skills for taking in and evaluating information, and we develop new perspectives for understanding systems from macro- and micro-levels. As I mentioned earlier, we call it a Master's program for a reason, but future professionals do need to understand what these concepts look like in practice.

It reminds me of a point my classmates would reiterate whenever asked about what topic would they want to learn more in the program. They would state time and again that they did not learn enough about budgeting. Yet I had this conversation with mentors of mine who had experience working as Directors and Vice Presidents in student affairs to see their perspective on the matter, and they always told me it was something they learned from experience, and it was very little different than managing a checkbook. There are just some topics--like managing a program budget--that would not be addressed well in the classroom but could be covered well through a practical experience. (On this note, one of my mentors mentioned learning how to budget is more about establishing priorities than it is managing money, which makes me think it would be a great topic for a Leadership and Governance class...)

3. What conferences should graduate students and new professionals attend to learn more about the core competencies and best practices in Multicultural Student Affairs? I hear from my colleagues in residential education that going to NASPA and ACPA is great for broad professional development, but that they get the most useful material for their work in residential education from the ACUHO conference (or their local CUHO conference). I often hear staff in orientation offices saying that they get enormous value out of NODA, similar to our conduct officers’ remarks about ASCA. This spring, I am going to the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity (NCORE) for the first time. Is NCORE the conference to advance the core competencies, best practices and skill-sets of our field? I’ll definitely let you know after I get back from the conference this June!

I've wondered the same thing myself--where are our functional area professional organizations? In Washington State, under our State Board for Community and Technical Colleges, we have a Student Services Commission that oversees a number of smaller councils. One of those is the Multicultural Student Services Directors' Council, made up of all the directors of diversity offices at our 34 community and technical colleges. Participation isn't limited to directors though, and there is an annual Students of Color Conference hosted by the council in which many folks from around the state participate. Each of the national student affairs organizations, NASPA and ACPA, have Standing Committees/Knowledge Communities for multicultural student affairs. (My favorite so far is ACPA's Commission for Social Justice Educators as they have a very active listserv that shares invaluable resources.) Yet there are no specially designated conferences or professional organizations for multicultural student affairs professionals (that I can identify). Vijay may be right on the role of NCORE in meeting this need--I've heard the same assertion myself--maybe he will have more insight posted to his blog on this matter as NCORE wrapped up this past weekend.

As someone who is interested in the education, training, and formation of student affairs practitioners (and soon to be Higher Education professor/researcher), I love discussing this topic with my colleagues. What are your thoughts on the matter? How did your Master's program play a part in your professional formation? What role should Master's preparation programs play in the formation of future student affairs practitioners? Feel free to leave your thoughts

Bryce
Follow me on Twitter: @BryceEHughes

Faith in Student Affairs

One topic that is always of interest to me is religion. As someone who attended Catholic schools from 7th grade through my Master's program, and as a practicing Catholic, religion and spirituality play an important role in my life. I was thrilled to see the Blog Prompt Monday post on Student Affairs Women Talk Tech about talking about religion with students. It's a very tricky issue, particularly for those of us working/attending public schools. But it's a topic with important student development implications.

"Do you discuss religion and/or spirituality at your institution or ignore it? How do you think this affects students?" asked Kristen Abell.

Now, to clarify, I'm not talking about the type of religious discussions that we would normally characterize as proselytization. There are religious people for whom discussing religion is about converting their peers to follow their faith tradition, and (I suppose) there is a time and place and sphere for those conversations. The public sphere is not one of those. To me, the question is not asking people to promote their faith to potentially interested followers looking for something greater to believe in. To me, the question asks, how do we promote conversations with students--and with each other--where we share our values, our beliefs, and better understand what's important to each of us? How do we foster conversations about that which is greater--if we even believe there is something greater--and how that impacts our experiences of education, development, and life in general?

For me, continuing to practice Catholicism is no small thing. There was a point in my life when I could have easily abandoned my faith out of despair. When I was a freshman, I had a deep crisis of faith that coincided with my coming out process and openly acknowledging that I was (am) gay. I feared that as a gay man, I had no place in the Catholic Church--the Church would never accept all of who I am, and, in particular, the Church would never bless the loving relationship I knew I would eventually enter into. Yet in the years leading up to entering college, I had developed a deep appreciation for--devotion to--my religious beliefs, especially the Church's profound traditions, and it hurt to imagine I would have to separate myself from that love.

There are many things I never loved about the Catholic Church (keeping women out of the priesthood, too loud on abortion and not loud enough on human rights, dark history around sexual abuse), but I also saw the tremendous life-giving potential associated with religious faith and devotion. Luckily, due to my desire to attend a Catholic university, I landed at a Jesuit institution--Gonzaga University--where I met many Catholics, including Jesuit priests, who helped me negotiate these two seemingly disparate identities to engage the creative tension between them and reap the spiritual benefits thereafter. I always blame the Jesuits for keeping me in the Catholic Church, and I think I became even more devout after my college experience.

None of this would have been possible if it weren't for their willingness to discuss spiritual matters with students. And one could argue that it is somewhat expected both of a Catholic university and of spiritual leaders in the college setting to discuss matters of religion and spirituality with students. But I know many students who do not have the same access to private institutions such as Gonzaga, and many of these students are grappling with similar, to-the-core issues related to religion and spirituality that they bring with them to college. Some of these issues are best addressed with a person qualified for spiritual counseling, but I wonder if students might benefit from general discussions where they are allowed to provide some insight into the make up of their belief systems and how it has guided them in life to who they are today.

A recent study out of UCLA examined students' experiences of spirituality in higher education, and the findings showed students wanted to explore these issues further while in college. Often these matters drive students' passions in their studies and in their chosen career/vocational paths; perhaps it might behoove student affairs professionals to allow students to bring these experiences into their conversations to better help guide them through their educational journey. I don't necessarily make it a personal habit to discuss matters of religion and spirituality with others as I believe it to be intensely personal and I don't want to come across as someone looking for converts. But might it be to our students' benefit to open up discussions about religion and spirituality a little more often?

Bryce
Follow me on Twitter: @BryceEHughes

Moving along, the Conclusion

The week after finishing all my applications, after I completed my final application to the University of Washington and submitted it, I received a phone call from an unknown number (in an unknown area code). It turned out it was my former faculty advisor, who now teaches at Loyola Chicago. She was calling to let me know I was selected for an on-campus interview for their PhD program, and that more information was coming in my email. I was very excited to hear back from one school, and I was even more excited that it was positive news! I began to dream about my life with a PhD from Loyola.

But the bigger news came the next week. In all I read about putting together doctoral applications, it is highly recommended to mention faculty with whom you would like to work. I actually did not do this, mainly because it felt like a gamble--many faculty have research interests related to each other's and I would end up picking the faculty who don't have room. While this may not be a recommended approach for applying, I have to say it worked out well for me in the end. The week after my first phone call, I received another (unknown, from an unknown area code) while sitting in a meeting.

I listened to the message after the meeting, and just about dropped my phone. "Hello, I am calling from UCLA to talk to you about admission to our program. Could you please call me back either tonight or tomorrow when you get a chance? I'll give you my home phone number as I will be working from home tomorrow. Thanks." The voice on the other end? A faculty researcher at UCLA who, to me, is like a celebrity in the field (and no, it was neither of the Astins). Very unexpected. I had that moment of, "Really, is she calling me? My cell phone? Not a wrong number? My name didn't mistakenly end up on someone else's application?"

What I heard when I reached her the next morning floored me: "I wanted to let you know that you have been accepted into our program, that I have been assigned your advisor, and I wanted to offer you a job as a graduate student researcher on one of my research projects." In one sentence, she laid out every single aspect of a PhD program I needed addressed in order to realistically pursue my degree. I wanted to go full time and work on research, so I needed research work and funding. Working on a research project pays tuition, fees, and a small stipend, so it felt good that I now had a very viable option. I was originally cautioned that UCLA was going to be competitive this Fall, and that my research interests may not align as well, so it was a pleasant and welcome surprise.

The next week I got a letter from Penn State. I originally thought they were declining admission, so it was a huge surprise to read I was accepted! I also received a call from a faculty member there inviting me to work on her research, and at that point I knew it was going to be a difficult decision. But at that point I was also very affirmed in my decision. I was moving on when I needed to, and being accepted showed I was entering at the right time for these programs as well.

It started to get even more surprising, though, leading to a very difficult decision. UCLA was back in touch to let me know my name was put forward to receive a major financial award from the school, and then later let me know I was selected as a recipient. Penn State let me know I was one of seven students selected for a competitive college-wide assistantship, and the only student in Higher Education selected for next year. I scheduled phone calls with faculty and students at both schools for several weeks talking about the programs, learning about the differences in funding, and getting major questions answered about this decision. I knew it would be tough to turn either down as they were both offering a lot. I never knew I would be a competitive applicant (I had major doubts of this process even working out in any ideal fashion), so this became a huge surprise.

Ultimately, I went to visit UCLA and met a few other prospective students. I realized that I was in a very unique position to have funding and work lined up for the Fall, and along with the advisor to whom I was assigned, I knew which option was going to be best for me. It was very difficult though to write to the faculty at Penn State to let them know I was turning down their offer, especially the director of their research center who I could tell was excited about having another Higher Education student receive that special assistantship. But you can't do it all--decisions have to be made. I signed my intent to enroll in late March, and now I wait...

I'm excited to get started, but I'm sad to leave my current position! I'm going to miss the amazing students I've had the privilege to work with these past three years, and I will miss my amazing colleagues who have walked through some rewarding and challenging times with me. One thing I am extremely grateful for--I get to bring my #SAchat community with me! I'm so thankful for the internet and social media for creating new ways of establishing community. I also will be attending many conferences (a welcome change after three years of out-of-state travel restrictions) so I will have the opportunity to meet many of you IRL (in real life).

So pretty soon I'll be trading my life in the cooler, often rainier, Pacific Northwest (Seattle) for the sunny, fast-paced lifestyle of Southern California. While I'm not 100% enthused about living in Los Angeles, I'm excited to see what's in store. Stick around, I'll keep you "posted"!

Bryce

Moving along, part 2

I didn't expect my story to go so long! But I love weaving tales, and I thought breaking it up might make it easier to read. So let's continue...

All of my applications required academic references, and I knew exactly who I wanted to ask. I emailed my faculty advisor, the one I worked with teaching theory, knowing she would be a great reference. She is fairly well-known in the field, and has been recognized as an emerging scholar in student affairs.

After I hit "Send," I remembered something she mentioned to me over the summer that could throw a huge wrench in obtaining references from her on time--she was pregnant, and due in October! She could potentially be unavailable until January, and she was one of my best references! Sure enough, no sooner than when the thought occurred to me, her out-of-office message appeared in my inbox. "Okay," I told myself, "I guess I won't be able to ask her. I will go ahead and ask the other faculty member in our program. I got to know him pretty well during my Master's program too."

So I emailed our other faculty member. Another out-of-office message--he was on Semester at Sea, and wouldn't be back until January! I began to panic a bit--how am I going to get a good academic reference when my only choices are not available--but decided to email him at his Semester at Sea address anyways. Then I had to go back to the drawing board and start thinking through other people I could ask--I gotta get these applications done!

Luckily, the next day, right after I finished a phone call with my mother thinking through some alternative references, I got an email from my faculty advisor. She had just had her baby, and she could provide references for me--just not a formal letter. Luckily, as most colleges have moved to electronic reference forms, the electronic form was going to work for her compared to writing a letter, and I felt like I was moving forward again. On the other hand, my faculty reference on Semester at Sea knew he couldn't complete electronic reference forms due to his inconsistent internet access. He offered to write a letter, and have his administrative assistant mail it to the schools as needed. All he needed me to do was email him my resume.

In November, I went to Orlando with my fiancee to meet his family and spend a week at Disney World (and the other theme parks in the area). Over that time, my first two applications were coming due--and my emails to my faculty reference on Semester at Sea were losing their attachments. We finally realized that it wasn't going to work, and I needed to utilize a backup reference to complete one of my applications. So picture this--my fiancee and I are on a bus to one of the Disney parks (standing, nonetheless, as the bus was full), and I'm using his iPhone to email my references and to manage my applications to make sure everything can come in on time. Life can come at you in unexpected ways! Thankfully technology can make a huge difference in your ability to navigate those bumps...

After getting the first two done (due December 1), the other four came together much easier. My last one due, for the University of Washington, was due in early January, and then the waiting game began...for a week. I heard back from a school for the first time the week following completing all my applications.

The decisions come in the exciting conclusion to this (now) three-part entry! Stay tuned...

Bryce

Moving along

As I mentioned on Twitter, I have some big news that I can finally share with everyone! Some major changes are in store for me, and I'm excited to be able to bring the #SAchat community along with me!

I was accepted into UCLA's PhD program in Higher Education and Organizational Change, full-time, starting Fall 2011! I'm very excited about the opportunity because getting into a full-time PhD program has long been a goal of mine, and I plan to exit a researcher and professor of higher education. I love working in student affairs, and I am going to miss the work I do, but I'm also excited to be moving along with my goals (my plan, as you may say) and am more than ready to take this next step.

And if you will, allow me to tell the story a bit...

Last summer, I felt like I was at a crossroads. I realized that I had just completed two years in my current position, and I remembered from discussions in my Master's program that 2-3 years into an entry-level position is a good point to start looking for greater responsibility. I began to reflect on my professional goals, and what my next step should look like.

My ultimate goal is to become a researcher and professor of higher education. I sharpened this goal during my Master's program, having been a graduate assistant in Seattle U's Center for Excellence in Teaching and Learning (faculty development office) and having completed an internship with my faculty advisor helping structure and teach our theory course. So the real question for me was: Do I continue working in student affairs and seek out an Assistant or Associate Director position before starting my PhD, or is now the time to apply and move that much closer to completing my goal? I wanted time between my Master's and PhD, particularly to gain experience as a practitioner before becoming a researcher. But how much time?

Ultimately, time was what made the decision for me. I sought out advice from a couple of my mentors, both of whom recommended I apply for PhD programs, but the real answer came from realizing I turn 30 in August of 2011. I will be 34+ when I finish a PhD, and I felt like I might appreciate not putting this decision off further when I reach commencement and start looking for faculty and research jobs. So I started making my list of schools.

I thought 3-4 would be perfect. I picked two school that I know have great reputations and are highly ranked in the field, and I picked two Jesuit universities as my Master's and Bachelor's are both from Jesuit universities. So far, my list went as thus:

UCLA
Penn State
Loyola Chicago
Boston College

From there, I was recommended to add Maryland to my list as a mentor of mine felt their program might better fit my research interests. My fiancee, who originally told me to apply wherever, started to realize that "wherever" would mean moving, asked me to consider staying in Seattle as an option. For him, I added the University of Washington.

At this point, I had six schools--more than I applied to for both my Master's and Bachelor's combined--but I felt confident about my list and I wanted to make sure I knew what options were out there for me going into this process. I created a couple spreadsheets on Google Docs to track all the materials I needed to gather for these applications, and set out asking for recommendations.

What happened next will start my next post, the continuation of my PhD story...

Bryce

What not to wear

Kristen Abell posted about being able to wear jeans to work, and I replied how I was able to wear jeans any day. Kristen replied how the difference was likely due to the difference in our individual institutional settings and the expectations of our professional roles, which of course got me thinking about how diverse these expectations may be across student affairs at large.

What are your dress expectations for your professional role? How do they differ across our #SAchat community?

I remember it first came up for me when I transitioned from my undergrad institution (Gonzaga, GO ZAGS!) where I had been building up an LGBT Resource Center (as an AmeriCorps volunteer) to my Master's program at Seattle University. The people who worked in Student Development at SU seemed to be dressed "to the nines" every day. I know we were expected to dress professionally at Gonzaga, but it felt like the bar was noticeably raised in this new setting and I wanted to know why. I don't think there was a written or spoken rule about how well people needed to be dressed at work, but there was definitely a different feel. We assumed it was due to the number of people who had recently started working there who were transplants from the East Coast, so there definitely is a cultural aspect to it. And being in an urban environment, they probably interact with business and city leaders regularly which would dictate the need to look serious about your work.

After I graduated, I accepted a position a couple months later at a community college in a fairly rural suburb of Seattle. I remember interviewing for my current position. I was on campus for a few days in the process, and I wore a collared shirt, tie, and slacks each day I was there. When I finally got hired, taking a cue from what I observed about the college culture, I wore a sweater with a nice pair of jeans. The Dean saw me that day and told me, "It's nice to see you without a tie for a change."

How might institutional setting dictate norms? Do they look different at community colleges, four-year public universities, and private colleges and universities? How does the external setting play a role? Does an urban environment demand something different than rural, or suburban? We often say that there are a multitude of subcultures across the United States; do different regions have different norms? What cultural norms come into play in invisibly dictating dress expectations?

Kristen also suggested that one factor that played a role in determining her dress expectations is her job description. Her job requires her to interact with local business and community leaders, which obviously means demonstrating a similar level of seriousness in conducting external affairs. My job is very hands-on with students, and the external constituents I work with are community agencies which serve disadvantaged youth. We all keep our dress more casual. How are yours dictated by job title/duties?

Some institutions will have more explicit policies. I know mine does have a policy expecting professionalism, but it is not much more specific than that. Does your institution lay out an explicit policy? How are they communicated to you?

And dress expectations lead into a deeper conversation about the ways power and privilege dictate how society expects us to behave. Gender, sex, race, class, sexual orientation, religion, and a myriad of other social memberships draw fairly rigid lines around what people are expected to wear in a professional setting. There was recently a tweet (and I can't tell you where I read it) asking about what "professionalism" looks like in queer communities. What underlying expectations and assumptions factor in both spoken and unspoken codes for appopriate professional attire? How does privilege play a role? Do we consider what we display to our students in selecting clothing? Do we consider how we demonstrate our values in what we choose to wear? What about gender performance expectations? Would someone subverting gender performance expectations, or someone with a transgender identity, feel marginalized by our spoken and unspoken dress codes? How about people of color? People from different religious affiliations?

Share your thoughts on student affairs dress expectations, particularly what your experience has been like.

Bryce

Let the games begin!

"Let the games begin!" as some may believe the final bullet point on ACPA President Heidi Levine's Consolidation vote blog post may mean. She wrote, "Collaborate with NASPA when appropriate, and compete with NASPA when appropriate." While the tone of the overall post was a little on the self-righteous side, it was the latter half of that statement which elicited great response on the #NASPACPA Twitter conversation, especially the word "compete."

In student affairs, we know collaboration. We collaborate with our colleagues, we collaborate with faculty, and we collaborate with students. Student affairs as a profession adheres to the maxim, "Two heads (or more) are better than one." Our graduate preparation programs particularly promote this doctrine, claiming it sets us apart from other programs which are (as we see it) more competitive and foster less trust. And with that context, it was a huge surprise to see the word "compete" in a post by one of our association presidents.

To me, it was refreshing. While it feels countercultural to say it, deep down we already know that our associations compete. But someone finally acknowledged that fact publicly. And that's okay. I think it's even more healthy that this "bad word" has been brought out into the light. I think it's a concept to bring more openly and more often into our student affairs lexicon. One great outcome from the result of this consolidation vote could be a broader discussion of the role competition plays--and could play--in student affairs.

Another "bad word" which emerged from the conversation which ensued following the announcement of the results was "confrontation." This one was not expressed as openly, but it definitely happened through the #NASPACPA Twitter feed. Many people expressed exactly how they felt about the vote--often in uncensored, unrestrained, and uncompromising ways. To some, particularly Stacy Oliver, this was seen as unprofessional and antithetical to the values of our profession. To me, it was another rare--and refreshing--moment where we abandoned restraint and spoke our minds exactly the way we were feeling.

Our profession could use a huge, healthy dose of confrontation. Of raw, unadulterated, even uncensored emotion. Sometimes I think we work too hard to be people pleasers, to make everyone happy, often to our own (and our students') detriment. I can agree with Stacy that using insults (like "stupid" or "selfish") is not productive in discussion and can damage relationships. But I don't agree with her that voices were "marginalized" in this discussion.

Now that I've had a little time to reflect on this matter, I think I can articulate myself a little better than I attempted via Twitter in 140 characters or fewer. The main reason I don't agree with her that people were "marginalized" is that everyone did speak their minds through the vote. (Frankly, the only marginalized voices were those of graduate students in NASPA, but that's for another time.) What happened on Twitter was not a marginalization but rather an outnumbering. I can see how it might have been intimidating to jump into the conversation when your viewpoint is the distinct minority of your community. But, in this instance, it was that minority that was able to speak the loudest--38% of NASPA was all it took to block consolidation--those voices were hardly marginalized.

(Side note: I will state that I agreed with the process. I think for such a major change to take place we should have been expected to reach a higher hurdle than a simple majority. I was disappointed with the outcome, but that's separate.)

Competition and confrontation happen in our field all the time, and most often we try to mask that fact for the sake of the comfort of our colleagues. The job search is competitive, but we try to cover that up by talking about "best fit." Student conduct is confrontational, but we try to hide that behind "opportunity for growth." Maybe every now and then we could name these for what they are--and learn and grow from those moments!

As someone who works in multicultural affairs, it reminds of the "safe space" problem: are we trying to create a space where it's safe to speak your mind, or an emotionally safe space that's concerned more about participants' comfort? To me, a safe space is a space where you can speak your truth, even if it's a difficult truth to hear. One of the major problems with diversity trainings and workshops is that we get too concerned about "safety" for the sake of "going there" and having a truly transformative learning experience. Maybe we ought to be open as professionals to being uncomfortable and being called out more often in our training and development. It may look and feel ugly to begin with, but letting it out could lead to far more productive dialogues in our field than "safety" and "politeness" ever have.

To me, the major lesson from this vote is that we as a profession have a problem with conflict. Perhaps if we could invite more (healthy) competition and confrontation into our professional development (either structured or unstructured), and into our work, we will reap the benefits that come from the tremendous growth that follows conflict.

And as for #NASPACPA, it's coming. If 81% of ACPA and 62% of NASPA in 2011 believe in consolidation, those percentages are sure to increase. And the next time it comes to a vote, we will unite. Perhaps the lessons from this consolidation vote will make the actual consolidation that much greater.

Bryce

Blogger's Block

I realized the other day that for wanting to post once a week this year, I am desperately behind on my goal. My last post was in March. I think around the time my #SAchat colleagues headed to conferences my own motivation took an extended vacation. I've had different post ideas come to mind over the ensuing weeks since my last update, and a little pressure to force myself to post when I did not necessarily have something ready to write, but overall I've faced various psychological blocks in my attempt to maintain this blog.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. Lisa Endersby, who I have been getting to know virtually over the past few months and who has played a major role in keeping me reading, thinking, learning, and writing, recently suggested a blog "support group." In her latest blog post, she told the story of how this idea came to be. Overall, it's not about getting blog posts churned out. It's about the relationships and the mentorship that is happening in 140 characters (or fewer) on Twitter, and then how that expands to email, blogs, Skype chats, and eventually real-life meetings. But in this post she examines some of the blocks that keep her from posting, and I wanted to engage in a similar exercise. In what ways do I sabotage my own attempts to meet my blogging goals, dragging my blog into oblivion rather than building it up as a dynamic tool to augment my professional development? What are the half-truths I tell myself in my head to stop myself from writing that next post, for no productive reason?

Well, in an attempt to kill those half-truths and outright lies, I am going to post them here. Feel free to comment if you've dealt with similar anti-productive self-talk, and how you dispelled it. Some of what I tell myself:

• I don't want to deal with my slow laptop. (I often use a "recycled" iPhone as essentially an iPod Touch when WiFi is available rather than my 7-year old Dell Inspiron.)




• We're watching tv/a movie/etc tonight and I don't have time.




• I think my post idea is provocative, and I don't want to shy away from controversy, but I don't want to offend. (Which, considering the fact that I've written about how I don't shy away from controversy, is obviously just an excuse.)




• I don't think I've thought through my idea enough. (Could be a good reason, but not to avoid writing about it.)




• I don't know enough about the topic. (I'm too prone to want to write about issues, especially if I have a strong opinion, and not enough of my own reflections or about me.)




• I want to write a personal post, but I'm probably crossing the line between vulnerable and vain. (Isn't the internet a healthy mix of both?)




• This will probably be the post that makes me one of those internet horror stories, that my career will be over as soon as my future employers find it on Google. (Of course it can happen, but some of the ideas that ruminate in my head are incredibly benign and it's only self-doubt that causes me to believe they have the potential to come back and bite.)

I do know one major block has been a signficant occurrence in my personal life that I am not able to share publicly just yet, but has resided in most of my conscious reflection in the time since my last post. Either way, I know I have a lot I'd like to share, and if I can push back against those inner voices which stand in the way of me producing a more active blog, I am confident I can beat my blogger's block.

How do you beat blogger's block?

Bryce

Learning to Earn

If you ask many students their reason for attending college, they'd tell you it was to get a good job and make more money than they would without. And it's true, one of the main ploys we use to entice young people to attend college is future earning potential. Self-improvement is simply icing on the cake to success and financial stability.

Yet with the job market as stagnant as it has been the past few years, and the proliferation of BAs competing for jobs that may not even require it, are we able to keep our promises of better employment and brighter futures?

The University of Regina in Saskatchewan is working hard to keep this promise. The university has started an employment guarantee program where students who fail to gain employment within six months of graduation can get another year of free tuition to pursue other certification and/or vocational training toward their chosen field.

Yet is more class time truly going to make someone more employable?

Paul Krugman discusses this in a recent column in The New York Times. He makes the argument that education cannot be the be-all, end-all to attaining livable, stable employment. Education is important, but can only be expected to do so much. The rest is up to us; if we value stable employment, affordable health care, and safe working conditions, we need to work as a society to make these greater changes. Providing more college degrees cannot directly solve greater market issues around labor and employment.

And there's the case for not attending college. Recently James Altucher, a well-known hedge fund manager and author, infamously implored parents not to send their children to college. He argued that entrepreneurial skills were far more important for young people to learn, that colleges were not teaching these marketable skills, and that the money parents spend on college could net much more if invested over their offsprings' lifetimes. While I am careful to take advice on matters of what to do with my life from a hedge fund manager, I do have to agree that the skills and attitudes learned through entrepreneurship--independence, self-motivation, confidence, to name a few--are extremely important for anyone looking to shape their own future to know.

So, if obtaining a college degree isn't about getting a better job, and a good argument can be made to not attend college, maybe we should be asking a different question. What is the purpose of getting a college degree?

This discussion about the purpose of college reminds me of conversations I used to have with classmates in my Master's program about the reason for our Master's degree. Many of my colleagues wanted more practical training in our grad program, such as budgeting, supervision, and other on-the-job skills, to be more marketable in searching for Student Affairs positions. I could appreciate my classmates' concern for a successful job search after graduation, but I also believed that if our program truly shifted in focus it would devolve into a professional certification program rather than a Master's degree level program of study. Much of this has gone into my reflection on why a Master's degree is important to our field--if it isn't about being "certified" to work in Student Affairs, it must serve some other greater purpose of relevance and importance to our field (see my earlier post on the matter).

Why did you go to college? If you pursued graduate study, why did you choose to continue your education?

Did you go to college to get a better job, or did you consider potential career fields because you wanted to get a college degree (and you wanted it to be relevant to your work)?

My answers to these questions may appear in future blog posts...

Bryce

The "White Male Gap" in Scholarship Funding

Laura Lambeth recently posted on Twitter that her most recent blog post "opens up [a] can of worms." As a student affairs professional in Texas, she posted her thoughts on a new nonprofit organization started by college students in Texas aimed at providing scholarships for White males. In her post, she ruminated over how she understood why organizations and institutions provide minority-targeted scholarships, but could also understand the frustration of the students forming the association. In particular, she mentioned students with whom she has worked who experienced the same issues with accessing financial aid, particularly the lack of knowledge on how to navigate the complex array of funding (and not just FAFSA) opportunities around the nation.

I don't think she herself "opened a can of worms." I went to school with students who had the same complaint, and I know I must have worked with students who feel the same way, though none have specifically shared this concern with me. Rather, the group itself, the "Former Majority Association for Equality," is the entity that has opened the proverbial can of worms. According to the group's website, their mission is "to fill in the gap in the scholarships offered to prospective students." And it sounds like a laudable effort. The fact that a group of students has identified a need and is taking the entrepreneurial step of forming an organization to meet is commendable.

But does the need, as the group has described it, truly exist?

This is not the first time White college students (particularly politically conservative students) have claimed that there is a lack of opportunity for them to receive scholarships for their study. Where I am skeptical of this, and others', group's claim is on what data they concluded that there is a "gap" for White male students in access to scholarship money. Was it simply based on their own subjective qualitative experiences that they felt like there were no scholarships available to them? Are White male students really suffering lack of access to college as a group because no one will provide them scholarship funding?

Based on the methods I assume they used to collect their data, I can tell you from my experience as a White male this lack of scholarship opportunity does not exist. I received two generous scholarships from Gonzaga University to attend the college, one due to my academic merit as demonstrated by my college application and one for being an alumnus of a Catholic high school, and then a Byrd scholarship (I think) for academic merit as well. In fact, I had to turn down a scholarship from the State of Montana given to all high school valedictorians because I chose not to attend in state. From my standpoint, my data, apparently collected in the same manner, contradicts their data, and causes me to question how real this perceived "gap" truly is. In fact, I believe my privilege as a White male made me more likely to access this money than many of my peers who also attended Gonzaga (and I could expand this idea much further, but that would be a much longer post). Which is why I decided to do some informal research to see if there are numbers that truly demonstrated this apparent disparity in scholarship awarding in the United States.

As it were to happen, I stumbled onto one of the best writers on the topic of White privilege in the nation. Tim Wise actually wrote a post on his blog about the topic around four years ago, and cited a study that was conducted by the General Accounting Office in 1994 on minority-targeted scholarships. (I wasn't able to find a more recent study, but I would argue the data may have only shifted minimally, if at all, and likely toward less money in minority-targeted scholarships.) The study found that 4% of all scholarship money considers race as a factor at all, and that 0.25% is restricted to just people of color. That means 99.75% (or 96%, if we use a conservative measure) of scholarship money is open to these students for whom there are, according to FMAE, no scholarship opportunities at all. And chances are, if White males are able to compete for this money, privilege will play a major role, and they will more likely be the recipients of this money than their counterparts. As for the impact of scholarships that are restricted by race, only 3.5% of students of color in college receive money from these scholarships. The truth is that scholarships restricted by race are a very small proportion of all the money awarded annually to college students, and very few students of color actually reap the benefits of these awards.

I will let you read through Tim's post more for his analysis of White privilege with regard to college funding as it is extremely insightful. As for me, after finding out that my suspicions were confirmed, I got to thinking about what the real issues might be behind this group's concern over college funding. Typically, when White people claim affirmative action or any other attempt to correct institutional racism is "reverse racism," often it comes from a place of not being aware of one's advantages in society. Sometimes there are other systemic oppressions involved, though, and when Laura highlighted the story of the student who had trouble navigating the financial aid process, I began to wonder what other experiences this student may have had. Is this student the first in his family to attend college? First generation students face unique barriers from not having the same guidance and information as other students have when they apply to college. Is the student from a lower socioeconomic background? He may be facing greater financial need than many of his peers who have parents contributing more to their education, and it can feel like he cannot access enough aid to cover everything. It doesn't help though to claim that the reason for a lack of resources are students of color disproportionately receiving scholarships and that he is simply being denied aid for being White and male without having rigorous data to support this claim.

Now, if a group of private citizens decides they want to contribute toward a need or a cause that they have identified and they believe important, they are free to do so. I actually believe the reason many of these minority-targeted scholarships exist is due to the hard work of those who broke institutional barriers and decided it was important to contribute to their own communities to promote similar positive outcomes. I have been involved with the Pride Foundation in Seattle for a couple of years, a group that has been giving scholarships to LGBTQ-identified and allied individuals for approximately 25 years. The Foundation was started by LGBTQ-identified people and their allies who believed in funding people and initiatives that worked to end discrimination against the LGBTQ community and promoted positive outcomes within the community and society at large. If this Former Majority Association for Equality believes this is an important cause to support and fund, it is completely within their right, but usually initiatives like this die out in the long run because it is hard to sustain support for a need that is difficult to prove (especially if that proof lies solely in those who started the initiative).

Typically though, White anger comes from an unacknowledged fear of loss of privilege in society. I usually wonder if the passion for issues like this comes from an suppressed awareness that as privilege breaks down, people like these with FMAE are not as competitive for scholarship awards (or other benefits) as they once believed they were...

Do you really need a Master's degree for that job?

As much as I love the field of Student Affairs, I would be willing to bet I'm not the only one in the field who can become cynical from time to time. The question which serves as the title of this post came back to mind as I was reading Stephanie Lynch's latest blog post. I loved her humorous cynicism as she recalled asking herself a similar question, toward the beginning of her foray into student affairs: "What? Why do I need a Master's degree to sing the fight song to new students?" I appreciated hearing it from a colleague this time as it echoed a feeling I've struggled with throughout the process of achieving my degree and getting my first job in the field. Do I really need a Master's degree for this job?

The main answer I hear from current grad students, and even some new professionals, is that in our programs we learn how to identify where students are in their development and how we can then cause them to grow through it. The reason hearing this statement causes the inner cynic I spoke of earlier to emerge is that, I think, many of us mistakenly believe that we need to buy that student development theory outlines very rigid, concrete stages of development--and that our goal as practitioners is to recognize these stages in our students in order to diagnose their development and prescribe an educational opportunity that pushes a student to the next level. I know finding ways to understand how theory translates into practice takes some work, but is the purpose of theory really diagnostic?

Honestly, I know most of us realize that it is not. Trying to make theory diagnostic would demonstrate the opposite of understanding how to put theory to practice, and we're taught to be critical of student development theory from the get go. Most student development theory emerged itself from critique of more foundational theories--most notably how Carol Gilligan's work on women's moral development emerged from her critique of her own professor William Perry's theory of intellectual and ethical development. Yet these questions still nagged me. Why do we learn theory? What is the purpose of all those classes we take? Why do we invest so much time and energy into papers, theses, and comprehensive exams? What is the purpose for our Master's degrees?

I don't think the answer lies in examining the question, "What have you done today that requires a degree in Student Affairs?" It does provide a great reflection on our work, but I don't think we're looking for particular moments throughout our workday or individual decisions we made where having the Master's degree would have made the difference. Taking the time to reflect on what what my role is on campus and the philosophy behind how I approach my work, looking at what I do from a broader perspective, led me to my answer as to why I need a Master's degree to do what I do.

The main conclusion I reached is that I am a better teacher in my role because of my education. Theory plays an important role in conceptualizing how we approach our work, so rather than being a direct diagnosis of how to help a student, it provides paradigms for framing our interactions. Steph hit the mark with her example of her former supervisor. She described how her supervisor's understanding of theory shaped how she worked with students, leading to more successful outcomes. While theory itself is not dogmatic nor prophetic with regard to how young adults develop, having engaged with research and study on that development provides us frameworks for leading students to learning and developmental outcomes, and causes us to approach our work as educators, rather than service providers. I do a better job teaching and facilitating learning because of my own education.

Bringing in student affairs staff with student affairs graduate degrees ensures the campus continues to be infused with scholars. The classroom does not need to be the only place students come into contact with people engaged in scholarly work. Co-curricular involvement has the opportunity to become more meaningful, educational, and impactful when grounded in research. A key component of a Master's degree is engagement with current, relevant research.

Having a Master's degree is also a way I express to my students how important I value my own education. Many of us know we become mentors to our students through our work with them; I would argue that having mentors who have achieved their goals and attained higher levels of education would foster in students a greater desire to do so themselves. I'm not trying to suggest we mentor all our students toward working in student affairs, but seeing how we reached our own goals might cause the spark which provides them the efficacy to establish and achieve their own. I can also advise them better in pursuing a higher education because I have done it and I understand how the system works.

Overall, I feel like I'm a better educator in my role due to my own education, which I think makes me more effective in my work. I've realized that someone, if needed, most likely could perform the essential duties of my job without a Master's degree, but I am more effective, my students achieve better outcomes, and our field is stronger as a whole because of the research and graduate preparation happening in Student Affairs.

Bryce

To Mentor...or to Navigate?

I posted on Twitter the other day that I had just presented to the student government budget committee asking for increased funding for the program I supervise. I work at Green River Community College where I oversee the Commencement Achievement Program, an initiative out of Diversity and Multicultural Affairs geared toward helping students independently navigate the college system. I received a response from Lisa Endersby, a student affairs guru out of our neighbor to the north, which led to an email conversation about mentorship. She asked me why we call my student staff Peer Navigators, rather than mentors, and how that structures the paradigm of their work.

Many of us work in some capacity supporting or supervising student mentors. This mentorship appears in various paradigms, such as student leadership, peer tutoring, or, quite often, explicitly defined mentorship. Each of these different titles describes the various roles and functions our students fill in our programs/departments/divisions/colleges/etc., yet each title was intentionally chosen to frame their work within a specific paradigm and provide them a framework for reflection on how they serve their peers. Our exchange got me thinking a little deeper about why our program chooses to call them "navigators" rather than something more common, like "mentors." It was a term I inherited, but my director and I built it explicitly into my program's mission statement. Why do we consider it such a unique and valuable title?

Over the past two years, I've worked with our Student Life graphic designer to come up with a graphic to use in our literature and our promotional materials. Because we call our students "Peer Navigators," and the program has a mission around college navigation, she recommended a compass. I loved the idea as it symbolizes navigation, and the concept of direction (North, South, East, and West) has cross-cultural meaning. It provides a conceptualization of the college environment as a stormy sea, and our program provides navigation and direction to help students keep afloat above the waves. We work with mostly first-generation, low income, and otherwise underserved students, for whom the college environment is terribly unfamiliar and very intimidating. Our students can become overwhelmed by the process of attending college itself, let alone their coursework to complete their degrees, and quickly feel strong feelings of isolation and the desire to return to "friendlier shore."

I train the Peer Navigators to be a mentor to their students, but also to guide their peers toward developing their own skills to independently navigate the college system. Since many of them had similar college experiences, they can empathize with the students who access our program and authentically guide them from that common understanding. Often if a student thinks a question she has is stupid, she begins to believe she is the only one with that question, and that college staff may belittle her for not having all the information needed to attend in the first place. Asking another student can be much more comfortable, especially if the response is, "Oh yeah, I had that same question. Let me show you how I got that information."

Transitioning from high school to college includes a huge cultural shift in how each institution functions. College requires a greater degree of independence and self-motivation on the part of the student, and also requires prior knowledge of the lingo and processes on which all the aspects of college attendance operate. For students who do not have access to this information prior to admission to college, the transition becomes a barrier to degree completion. The college becomes a stormy sea, and the student a solitary captain navigating the murky waters rising on all sides. We call our students Peer Navigators because they become a compass, map, and literal navigator to walk side-by-side with their peers relying on their own experiences to help navigate the storms toward calmer waters.

Bryce

Are there lessons to learn AFTER the consolidation vote?

I found myself in the midst of an impromptu discussion about the upcoming NASPA/ACPA consolidation vote this morning when I posted two items to my Twitter account: "What happens if the membership of one organization votes to consolidate, and the other no?" and "And are we prepared to break down votes by demographics, to see who's voting 'yes' and who's voting 'no'?" I had recently read a thought-provoking post by Kristen Abell on her Kristendom Talks Tech blog stressing the importance of an informed vote on the consolidation matter, and I think this is why it was still ruminating in my mind over the weekend. So I threw it out there to the Twitterati to see if it might catch a response, and possibly lead me to deeper thought on the issue.

And it did. In fact, Kristen and I engaged in a brief discussion about whether breaking down the vote by demographics or comparing the results between NASPA and ACPA would even be productive or lead to greater tension and discord (and thus my decision to expand my thoughts here in this post). Some other posts echoed my question about breaking down the results to get a glimpse of who voted which way on the matter, and one from Chris Conzen that read, "I heard 1 official say in this situation, org that votes no tends to lose members if the other votes yes," a post that resonated with what I had originally been thinking--what happens if one membership votes no and the other votes yes? What does that say about each group, their belief in their own organization, their belief in the other organization, and how collaboration moves forward in the future?

Currently my only active membership is in ACPA. As a graduate student, I joined both (since the membership was much more affordable). I had a glimpse into what a joint organization might look like attending the 2007 joint meeting, and attended regional and national NASPA conferences before graduating. I haven't had a chance to participate as much since I took my current position as a spending freeze went into place in the fall of 2008 that prevented any out-of-state travel on state funds.

My interest in the first question was me wondering some of the reasons people are voting one way or another, and how it relates to their perceptions of both organizations. Perhaps many want to vote "yes" on consolidation so they no longer have to pay two membership dues. Perhaps some are not as interested in consolidation out of concern about losing the identity of their professional association(s). For me, I'm semi-passionately in favor of consolidation--not particularly enthusiastic about it, but from what I've read it could be a move forward toward a unified voice/vision for our field moving into the future. I'd love to retain memberships in both organizations again, but without being able to travel to participate in either organization's professional development opportunities, it hasn't seemed cost-effective to maintain both memberships.

As for my interest in my second question, that comes from my background in diversity. Mostly I imagined the biggest difference in the vote would be along the lines of age or years in the field--newer and younger professionals would be more open to consolidation while older and more seasoned professionals might be more hesitant to charge forward with such a dramatic restructure. But I also wondered if we might see significant differences in opinion along other demographic lines. And Kristen made a good point that often these types of breakdowns can be used in harmful ways, but I also see exploring the "why"s behind these differences as providing some excellent information regarding how our associations--or association--move forward. Perhaps there are unmet needs that some people believe might be addressed through consolidation that, though it may not pass, are uncovered through the learning process after the vote. Research like this would have to be conducted skillfully, aimed at moving forward beyond the vote, and done in a way that respects the memberships of both organizations (whether still intact or combined).

What I found provocative about Chris's Twitter post was the thought that a discrepancy in the vote, one organization voting in favor of consolidation and the other voting against, might sway members of one or the other to switch memberships. Not that I've ever believed there is some sort of "competition" between NASPA and ACPA to bring in the highest number of members, but could it cause someone to view their professional association in a different manner? I'm not sure it would cause me to up and realign my affiliations, but a discrepancy between the two could be a surprising result.

And then, of course, we return to the question of what our reasons are for voting one way or another. Which is in the best interest of our professional development? Which is in the best interest of our students, our ability to serve them well? Which might be more fiscally responsible both for our associations and our employing institutions? Which is a more efficient system? Kristen hit the nail on the head in driving home the point that we need to approach this vote as informed as possible--and deeply reflect on our reasons for voting either way.

Should we examine the demographics of the vote, or should the ultimate decision be allowed to stand alone? Would the opinions of your colleagues on the consolidation issue cause you to reassess your professional association?