...but perhaps not in the manner that it intends.
The Beloit College Mindset List, now in its 15th year of existence, is published annually by Beloit College in Wisconsin. Its aim is to point out generational touchstones and differences between the manner in which "they"--the incoming freshman class--see the world and the manner that "we"--the "adults"--see it.
The problem lies, of course, in defining the "we" and the "they".
The issue with "they" likely seems self-evident to those within our field and many without it, but I cannot let it go unstated. Increasingly, non-traditional (and yes, I know the limitations of that term, but you know what I mean) students are entering college, meaning that we can no longer take for granted that our freshman classes are filled with 18 year olds fresh out of high school. It also assumes that a college career is four years, as it references the incoming freshman class as the class of 2016. Still, I will grant this, though I'd appreciate if they at least mentioned these caveats.
Perhaps my biggest disconnect here, however, is with "we". Let me first lay my biases on the table: I'm 30 years old, a GenX/Millennial cusper (depending on whose definition you use). I was, in fact, the subject of the list published in 1999 about the class of 2003. I am also a mid-level professional currently entering my eighth year working post-masters in higher education. The latter, I would think, should qualify me as part of the "we"; after all, it is those of us currently working in higher ed who need to know who our students are and where they are coming from, and yet some of the touchstones against which they contrast the incoming class' experiences do not resonate with me. While I don't know the ages of Tom McBride and Ron Nief, the minds behind the Mindset list--and as a matter of personal policy refrain from speculating about one's age--I feel comfortable stating that they have at least a few years on me. As such, it is my belief that some of the experiences they reference are written more for their peer group than my own. Here I highlight a few, with the limitation that for expediency's sake, all research [sic] done for this came courtesy of Google and Wikipeda. There's a generational touchstone for you.
I realize I speak simply for myself, and not necessarily for my peer group (though I think much is generalizeable), but It's a Wonderful Life was never the Christmas tradition for me that is assumed in #54. Similarly, while Romper Room (#17) was finally cancelled in 1994, it was never even on my radar. My childhood was populated with Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, Reading Rainbow, and Zubilee Zoo on PBS. Those slightly younger may include Barney and Friends, and I believe those slightly older would include The Electric Company.
I'd be inclined to side more with the incoming class over the shooting of Mr. Burns vs. J.R. (#55). The Simpsons, which I started watching as a short on Tracy Ullman, was perhaps as formative to my childhood as any of the children's programs listed above. As a point of reference, assuming that perennially ten year old Bart and perennially eight year old Lisa were those ages at the show's inception, they would be two and four years older than I, and even they would be too young to recall the assassination attempt on J.R. Ewing in Dallas. Similarly, Star Wars (#28) has always meant little more to me than the films (and I'll note that without a proper upbringing, they are far more familiar with Episodes I, II, and III than IV, V, and VI). After all, while the Strategic Defense Initiative, colloquially (and derisively) dubbed Star Wars was renamed and repurposed during the Clinton Adminsitration, the hubbub that gave it its new name took place while I was in elementary school. Finally, just a few things that, in my opinion, are simply not accurate: Despite the ubiquity of mp3s and iPods (#15) most have listened to and still listen to the radio in some fashion. And unless a boarding pass is demonstrably different than an airline "ticket" (and if it is, this shows another disconnect) today's students know them as well.
I point these things out not simply to make it all about me (told you, Millennial...) but instead to point out that as we look as the differences between the incoming students and those who will be teaching them, it's important to note that there is a generational disconnect within the educators as well.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Yeah, I just met you... and this is crazy...
--or-- Riding in Cars with Candidates
I'm currently chairing a search committee and we're in the midst of on-campus interviews. The higher ed interview process is already a strange beast, but one of the areas where this manifests itself is one-on-one time with the candidate. As the chair, it has been my role to get candidates from the hotel to campus the morning of the interview.
Clearly I'm using my personal vehicle. This is no problem. I make it a point to keep it a little cleaner than I might otherwise (whoops, forgot about the clothes headed to Goodwill in the back) and be sure there is space for them to place their bags and personal items. But in the 10 or so minutes we're together in the car, what should be on the radio?
Left to my own devices, I almost always have my iPod plugged in. In most cases I'm listening to podcasts--typically either sports or marching/athletic music--but the music present represents quite a range from the serene to the ign'ant. My radio station presets tell a similar tale; The range on my primary setting is, in order: Rap, Urban Adult Contemporary, Top 40, Top 40, Variety, and Country. I've been sticking to the radio for practical reasons, partially selfish; if I'm listening to a podcast, it's because I'm interested in the subject matter and actually want to hear the podcast, not the candidate, talk. In the same vein, I'm not going to ride around silent--it's not realistic and gives you no hiding place should silence become awkward. So I go the radio route. I know that rap and country tend to be the most polarizing, so I keep it quite literally to the middle of the set.
With the first candidate I transported, I went the Urban AC route. They tend to stay on the mellower side, but I forget that Urban AC radio has done to me what Nick at Nite did long ago: I'm old enough that stations that once played music from when my parents were younger now play music from when I was younger. As luck would have it, they were playing Queen Latifah's Unity (who you callin' a...) Fortunately we were engaged in conversation so it wasn't at the forefront, but certainly potentially awkward.
With the most recent candidate, I instead went the pop radio route. I kept the volume a bit lower as well, not that my speakers were going hammer previously. But during a lull in conversation, we realized what was on. You guessed it (or read it on Twitter earlier): Call Me Maybe. We commented briefly on its current ubiquity and moved on from there. Not extremely awkward, but perhaps a bit.
Have you found yourself in the car either with a candidate or as a candidate? Do you remember what was on the radio?
I'm currently chairing a search committee and we're in the midst of on-campus interviews. The higher ed interview process is already a strange beast, but one of the areas where this manifests itself is one-on-one time with the candidate. As the chair, it has been my role to get candidates from the hotel to campus the morning of the interview.
Clearly I'm using my personal vehicle. This is no problem. I make it a point to keep it a little cleaner than I might otherwise (whoops, forgot about the clothes headed to Goodwill in the back) and be sure there is space for them to place their bags and personal items. But in the 10 or so minutes we're together in the car, what should be on the radio?
Left to my own devices, I almost always have my iPod plugged in. In most cases I'm listening to podcasts--typically either sports or marching/athletic music--but the music present represents quite a range from the serene to the ign'ant. My radio station presets tell a similar tale; The range on my primary setting is, in order: Rap, Urban Adult Contemporary, Top 40, Top 40, Variety, and Country. I've been sticking to the radio for practical reasons, partially selfish; if I'm listening to a podcast, it's because I'm interested in the subject matter and actually want to hear the podcast, not the candidate, talk. In the same vein, I'm not going to ride around silent--it's not realistic and gives you no hiding place should silence become awkward. So I go the radio route. I know that rap and country tend to be the most polarizing, so I keep it quite literally to the middle of the set.
With the first candidate I transported, I went the Urban AC route. They tend to stay on the mellower side, but I forget that Urban AC radio has done to me what Nick at Nite did long ago: I'm old enough that stations that once played music from when my parents were younger now play music from when I was younger. As luck would have it, they were playing Queen Latifah's Unity (who you callin' a...) Fortunately we were engaged in conversation so it wasn't at the forefront, but certainly potentially awkward.
With the most recent candidate, I instead went the pop radio route. I kept the volume a bit lower as well, not that my speakers were going hammer previously. But during a lull in conversation, we realized what was on. You guessed it (or read it on Twitter earlier): Call Me Maybe. We commented briefly on its current ubiquity and moved on from there. Not extremely awkward, but perhaps a bit.
Have you found yourself in the car either with a candidate or as a candidate? Do you remember what was on the radio?
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Not diverse, just tan.
I felt compelled to share my reaction to an article my colleague Chris posted not long ago on Twitter. Specifically, he posted a piece from Diverse Issues in Higher Education, "Interview: The Tanning of America with Dr. Marcia Alesan Dawkins" which in turn links to the article, "The Future of the 'Tan Generation'" from The Root. A primary theme is that the increased multiculturalism in America--children under the age of 1 were more likely (50.4%) to be nonwhite than white at the time of the 2010 census--will not necessarily lead to increased social justice.
It was the words chosen that gave me particular pause. I had little issue with the term Tan Generation. The mean skin tone of our nation is likely tan, and while the root is the fact that we're dealing in skin color, not culture here, black, white, and brown have been in the lexicon long enough that this is simply its natural progression. Further, my daughter, who is biracial (black/white), would likely select a tan crayon to draw herself, as would many from across the United States from various cultural and racial backgrounds. It's a bit clumsy, but it fits.
The title that Diverse chose, "...The Tanning of America..." bothered me, however. They took tan from a noun or an adjective into a verb and used it in a way that to me implied a specific action. Tanning, as we most commonly use it, is a process through which fairer-skinned--largely white--people expose themselves to the sun to increase melanin production and ultimately appear darker. Science aside, this says to me a couple of things: America is "supposed" to be white, despite a current trend to the contrary. It also says that we view America as primarily homogenized--that the only difference is pigmentation, ignoring facets of cultural and experience that are what we should really be addressing when we talk about diversity.
The original message was that a rise in population diversity would not necessarily lead to a rise in social justice and cross-cultural understanding. The title chosen helped hammer this point home in a way it may not have intended.
It was the words chosen that gave me particular pause. I had little issue with the term Tan Generation. The mean skin tone of our nation is likely tan, and while the root is the fact that we're dealing in skin color, not culture here, black, white, and brown have been in the lexicon long enough that this is simply its natural progression. Further, my daughter, who is biracial (black/white), would likely select a tan crayon to draw herself, as would many from across the United States from various cultural and racial backgrounds. It's a bit clumsy, but it fits.
The title that Diverse chose, "...The Tanning of America..." bothered me, however. They took tan from a noun or an adjective into a verb and used it in a way that to me implied a specific action. Tanning, as we most commonly use it, is a process through which fairer-skinned--largely white--people expose themselves to the sun to increase melanin production and ultimately appear darker. Science aside, this says to me a couple of things: America is "supposed" to be white, despite a current trend to the contrary. It also says that we view America as primarily homogenized--that the only difference is pigmentation, ignoring facets of cultural and experience that are what we should really be addressing when we talk about diversity.
The original message was that a rise in population diversity would not necessarily lead to a rise in social justice and cross-cultural understanding. The title chosen helped hammer this point home in a way it may not have intended.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
One and Only One Ambition
(For supplemental reading, See What Else Is There? from 80 Minutes of Regulation)
Earlier this month, I made the trip up home to Delaware to celebrate the retirement and 36 year career of Paul Parets, director of bands at Alexis I. duPont High School and my former high school band director. At the gathering of several hundred at A.I.'s football stadium, the love from the more than three and a half decades of Tiger Band alumni, parents, friends, and supporters was clearly evident.
I've told Mr. Parets this, but he is a large part of the reason I'm in the field of student affairs. His work with the band was as simple as it was risky, as perfect as it was nonsensical to many: Simply put, he let the students run the band. The leadership each year was the senior class, and that group of students made decisions including repertoire, trips, and more, while truly having the opportunity to serve as leaders to their peers. It was my experience as a leader within that organization, as well as excellent role modeling by Mr. Parets, that started me on the path that would ultimately lead to my career.
At the ceremony, Mr. Parets spoke relatively little; most spoke to, for, and about him. But in his brief remarks, he speaks volumes to the value of education:
(I suggest you listen to, not watch, the video, which was er, masterfully captured by my 14 month old daughter)
Earlier this month, I made the trip up home to Delaware to celebrate the retirement and 36 year career of Paul Parets, director of bands at Alexis I. duPont High School and my former high school band director. At the gathering of several hundred at A.I.'s football stadium, the love from the more than three and a half decades of Tiger Band alumni, parents, friends, and supporters was clearly evident.
I've told Mr. Parets this, but he is a large part of the reason I'm in the field of student affairs. His work with the band was as simple as it was risky, as perfect as it was nonsensical to many: Simply put, he let the students run the band. The leadership each year was the senior class, and that group of students made decisions including repertoire, trips, and more, while truly having the opportunity to serve as leaders to their peers. It was my experience as a leader within that organization, as well as excellent role modeling by Mr. Parets, that started me on the path that would ultimately lead to my career.
At the ceremony, Mr. Parets spoke relatively little; most spoke to, for, and about him. But in his brief remarks, he speaks volumes to the value of education:
(I suggest you listen to, not watch, the video, which was er, masterfully captured by my 14 month old daughter)
Monday, April 16, 2012
On the 5th Anniversary
This is actually an import post; today is of course the 5th anniversary of the tragic shootings at Virginia Tech. The post below is exerpted from the LiveJournal I was keeping at the time, and it's a sentiment I still hold.
There have been any number of groups that have popped up on Facebook which I find particularly touching. I love seeing people all across the country and world pulling together to show support for those at VT, and many schools have created images juxtaposing their logos with the VT logo and the VT logo superimposed over a black ribbon, as has been around lately. Particularly amazing is how many of these show up at schools which are typically rivals with VT: UVA, UNC, West Virginia, and other schools in the state of VA and the ACC. It's amazing how deep the love truly is when it comes right down to it.
BUT... what bugs me through all this is the saying that so often accompanies these pictures; "Today we are all Hokies". No, we're not. I understand the sentiment: We're here with you and standing strong with you through these tough times, but the saying is, if you'll pardon the pun, hokey. I find it misguided at best and at worst downright offensive to those who were pesonally affected. We weren't all New Yorkers after 9/11 (though we were all Americans, well those of us who are, anyway), we weren't all Oklahomans after the OKC bombing, and we aren't all Hokies now. Quite frankly I find it insulting for me or others to insinuate that I am touched in this tragedy in the same way that someone who heard shots ring out on campus, who personally lost a loved one, or even can relate as an alumnus in a way that "damn, had this been a Monday morning in Spring '03 I would have been sitting in that classroom" or even just knowing that your personal stomping grounds, your ALMA MATER have been shaken up. I am as empathetic and sympathetic as I can be, but no, I am not a Hokie. May God and prayers be with them, but it ain't me and I won't pretend that it is.
Anyway, much love to all you and yours and particularly anyone personally or indirectly affected by this tragedy.
* * *
There have been any number of groups that have popped up on Facebook which I find particularly touching. I love seeing people all across the country and world pulling together to show support for those at VT, and many schools have created images juxtaposing their logos with the VT logo and the VT logo superimposed over a black ribbon, as has been around lately. Particularly amazing is how many of these show up at schools which are typically rivals with VT: UVA, UNC, West Virginia, and other schools in the state of VA and the ACC. It's amazing how deep the love truly is when it comes right down to it.
BUT... what bugs me through all this is the saying that so often accompanies these pictures; "Today we are all Hokies". No, we're not. I understand the sentiment: We're here with you and standing strong with you through these tough times, but the saying is, if you'll pardon the pun, hokey. I find it misguided at best and at worst downright offensive to those who were pesonally affected. We weren't all New Yorkers after 9/11 (though we were all Americans, well those of us who are, anyway), we weren't all Oklahomans after the OKC bombing, and we aren't all Hokies now. Quite frankly I find it insulting for me or others to insinuate that I am touched in this tragedy in the same way that someone who heard shots ring out on campus, who personally lost a loved one, or even can relate as an alumnus in a way that "damn, had this been a Monday morning in Spring '03 I would have been sitting in that classroom" or even just knowing that your personal stomping grounds, your ALMA MATER have been shaken up. I am as empathetic and sympathetic as I can be, but no, I am not a Hokie. May God and prayers be with them, but it ain't me and I won't pretend that it is.
Anyway, much love to all you and yours and particularly anyone personally or indirectly affected by this tragedy.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Why I Lead a Double Life
In the Twittersphere, if you're reading this, chances are good that you know me as CurtisTMEd (That's Curtis T., M.Ed., in case the format is confusing). You may also know me as 80mins (that one's 80 min(ute)s, as in 80 Minutes of Regulation, for reference). My name is Curtis Tarver, and I lead a double life.
Or rather, it may seem that way online. After all, who has two Twitter profiles except someone trying not to acknowledge their professional life in their personal life and vice versa? Well I do, and there's a story. See, what had happened was...
I won't lie to you. I've been known to give the side-eye (usually more mental than physical) to pros who had, say, separate Facebook accounts for their students and their "real life". My personal belief is that there's one me, and while there are multiple facets, when all's said and done, I'm just Curtis. People can make their own choices as far as if they want to engage with students (or in some cases, colleagues or other work folks) in that space, but to choose to assume the squeaky-clean, safe-for-work alter ego just hasn't been my style. That's what privacy settings (admittedly easier to navigate on Facebook than a few years ago) are for.
Then Twitter came along. I was far from an early adopter with Twitter. I mostly sat on the opposite shore, looking through binoculars, deciding whether I would choose to embark on this strange new journey. After all, the customs seemed strange over there. I didn't quite understand them. "Why do people need to know everything I'm doing in 140 characters?" was the common refrain. Even when I chose to dip my toes in, it wasn't for me, per se. At least that's why I told myself from the start. No, I was creating a Twitter account to correspond with my blog, which is why they share similar handles. I would only post sports and marching/athletic music content, same as the blog itself. All of my follows were in that narrow spectrum.
And then the beast took over.
Having the medium, I couldn't help but engage. I'm sure it started with folks I know personally/virtually--followed because they walk in the sports/marching/athletic music world--and branched out from there. Soon my account wasn't simply 80 Minutes of Regulation, it was Curtis (luckily, there's significant overlap). I was on Twitter. For real this time. But now that I was being honest with myself that I was in the space, how do I engage in the space as a whole person? After all, I was hearing of #sachat and various other opportunities to connect in the field on Twitter, and the excuse that I don't use it was no longer valid. I wanted in. And while I initially started to participate and connect with folks via @80mins, it quickly became clear that I wanted to go another route with it. And thus, @CurtisTMEd was born.
It was my initial belief--one I continue to maintain--that I do this far less for me than I do for you, the possibly-hypothetical follower. If you're familiar with Google+, they provided me with the language with which to talk about my dual identity: Think of it as circles. Folks on 80mins get my sports/band side, while folks on CurtisTMEd get my pro side. Conversely, it's my belief--founded or not--that the majority of my professional connects would be annoyed at my tweet rate during a game or DCI show, while my sports/band folks couldn't care less about the play-by-play of a NACA conference. This gives folks a choice as to what they choose to follow. I've got folks who follow me on both; some of whom I touched base with before the dual account, some of whom found out about 80mins (I put it right up front in CurtisTMEd's profile) and are legitimately interested, and most of whom I consider friends beyond the professional or topic-centric realms.
After all, beyond the topical tweets and the professional tweets lies a nebulous third persona: Regular-ass Curtis. Because of the manner that I came into the space, and the fact that I spend more hours (hopefully) away from the office than in it, most of that resides at 80mins. Non-work-related tweets come through on CurtisTMEd as well--mostly between 9 and 5 (ish) but I think I'm far more work-friendly over there, even though the other me is just a click away. Does it mean that those folks are missing out on the "real" me? Again, only a click away.
I don't know if I'd do it the same way if I were to do it again. I might go strictly topical as one and strictly Curtis (personal, professional, and all) on another. There's no telling, and I'm too far down the rabbit hole to to turn back now.
There you have it. A tale of two Curtises. Follow one, follow both, follow neither. It's all one me.
Or rather, it may seem that way online. After all, who has two Twitter profiles except someone trying not to acknowledge their professional life in their personal life and vice versa? Well I do, and there's a story. See, what had happened was...
I won't lie to you. I've been known to give the side-eye (usually more mental than physical) to pros who had, say, separate Facebook accounts for their students and their "real life". My personal belief is that there's one me, and while there are multiple facets, when all's said and done, I'm just Curtis. People can make their own choices as far as if they want to engage with students (or in some cases, colleagues or other work folks) in that space, but to choose to assume the squeaky-clean, safe-for-work alter ego just hasn't been my style. That's what privacy settings (admittedly easier to navigate on Facebook than a few years ago) are for.
Then Twitter came along. I was far from an early adopter with Twitter. I mostly sat on the opposite shore, looking through binoculars, deciding whether I would choose to embark on this strange new journey. After all, the customs seemed strange over there. I didn't quite understand them. "Why do people need to know everything I'm doing in 140 characters?" was the common refrain. Even when I chose to dip my toes in, it wasn't for me, per se. At least that's why I told myself from the start. No, I was creating a Twitter account to correspond with my blog, which is why they share similar handles. I would only post sports and marching/athletic music content, same as the blog itself. All of my follows were in that narrow spectrum.
And then the beast took over.
Having the medium, I couldn't help but engage. I'm sure it started with folks I know personally/virtually--followed because they walk in the sports/marching/athletic music world--and branched out from there. Soon my account wasn't simply 80 Minutes of Regulation, it was Curtis (luckily, there's significant overlap). I was on Twitter. For real this time. But now that I was being honest with myself that I was in the space, how do I engage in the space as a whole person? After all, I was hearing of #sachat and various other opportunities to connect in the field on Twitter, and the excuse that I don't use it was no longer valid. I wanted in. And while I initially started to participate and connect with folks via @80mins, it quickly became clear that I wanted to go another route with it. And thus, @CurtisTMEd was born.
It was my initial belief--one I continue to maintain--that I do this far less for me than I do for you, the possibly-hypothetical follower. If you're familiar with Google+, they provided me with the language with which to talk about my dual identity: Think of it as circles. Folks on 80mins get my sports/band side, while folks on CurtisTMEd get my pro side. Conversely, it's my belief--founded or not--that the majority of my professional connects would be annoyed at my tweet rate during a game or DCI show, while my sports/band folks couldn't care less about the play-by-play of a NACA conference. This gives folks a choice as to what they choose to follow. I've got folks who follow me on both; some of whom I touched base with before the dual account, some of whom found out about 80mins (I put it right up front in CurtisTMEd's profile) and are legitimately interested, and most of whom I consider friends beyond the professional or topic-centric realms.
After all, beyond the topical tweets and the professional tweets lies a nebulous third persona: Regular-ass Curtis. Because of the manner that I came into the space, and the fact that I spend more hours (hopefully) away from the office than in it, most of that resides at 80mins. Non-work-related tweets come through on CurtisTMEd as well--mostly between 9 and 5 (ish) but I think I'm far more work-friendly over there, even though the other me is just a click away. Does it mean that those folks are missing out on the "real" me? Again, only a click away.
I don't know if I'd do it the same way if I were to do it again. I might go strictly topical as one and strictly Curtis (personal, professional, and all) on another. There's no telling, and I'm too far down the rabbit hole to to turn back now.
There you have it. A tale of two Curtises. Follow one, follow both, follow neither. It's all one me.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Someone Else's Sick Day
By and large, I don't take many sick days. This isn't out of stubbornness, or a desire to be student affairs' Cal Ripken; I've just been fortunate enough not to need to. I will occasionally tally a sick day (or hours) for a doctor's appointment, but when I'm actually not feeling well and legitimately need to take a sick day, I don't hesitate, or so I thought.
As I take a mental inventory of the times I've called out, I realize that if I'm completely honest with myself, I'll admit that I more or less schedule sick days. It's typically within reason, but if I'm not feeling my best and can push missing any work off to a time that's convenient to leave early/come in late/miss a day, I almost always do.
Things have changed.
Eleven months (two days and 12 minutes, but who's counting?) ago, I took on a new role in life: That of Daddy. In my role as Director of the First Year Experience (one of my favorite student affairs/new parent jokes, and I've got less than a month to keep using it!) I learned quickly that there's no scheduling sick days when it comes to my daughter. If she's sick, whether it means a trip to the doctor or just that she can't go to day care, my wife and I typically take inventory of each of our days to see which of us is best equipped to miss that time from work. We've been fortunate that it's worked out to a pretty even split thus far, and we will sometimes split a day in half so that we can each attend to things we need to. Still, when we wake up in the morning and realize we'll have to put a sick day plan into place, I can't help but feel inconvenienced, whether I'm missing meetings, events, or jut work that I need to get done in the office.
Don't get it twisted. The world stops for my daughter, and rightfully so. But still, coming from a mold of taking time when it's most convenient for me, I can sometimes feel like I'm missing something, that I'm not present or not pulling my weight. I sometimes try to work from home (though if you've ever tried this with a sick infant afoot, you know how hit-or-miss that can be) but so much of work in student activities is actually being there. And while my staff, students, colleagues and supervisor all certainly understand, I still admittedly find the uncertainty frustrating at times. Of course, it's not anywhere near frustrating enough for me not to do what's best for my daughter, it's just one of many new wrinkles to get used to in my life as a parent.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
We Need a Resolution
I'll be honest. I've never really been one for New Year's resolutions. I could get all high and mighty about how we should be seeking to change for the better no matter the calendar and yadda yadda yadda, but it's not that deep, I just don't do it. I especially don't do it one word (sorry, significant portion of the student affairs twittersphere). But that doesn't mean I'm not looking to change or better myself, and when I get an idea or see an opportunity, I jump on it. Earlier this week, I had one of those times.
We had an open house for our office. It's a program that needs some assessing (but that's a different story for a different day) but the gist was that we had some food set up in the area adjacent to our office to entice people to come in and learn about what we had to offer. Because our office is tucked a good deal out of the way in our student union, our primary traffic was folks for whom we were a destination anyway. At any rate, I was sitting out by the set up for most of the duration, and a coworker of mine took a shift as I ate lunch. When I returned, she shared with me an article from About Campus that she had been reading to pass both to pass the time and because it related to some assessment she's looking to do, and invited me to read it while I sat out in the often empty hallway.
I was hit with a simple truth: I'm often piss-poor about reading in the field, especially if it's not on the computer screen in front of me, and/or hasn't been assigned for a meeting. I resolved--ok, made the decision--right there that I'm going to start setting aside an hour a week for some form of reading in the field or related topics. It doesn't have to be anything in particular, and can be a lowbrow or high-falutin' as I feel like in any given week, but I intend to do it, and I've made the deal that while I can move it if my schedule calls for it, it can only be rescheduled, not canceled.
Today I did it for the first time, and while I'll admit I did a bit of bookshelf channel-surfing before landing on what I was going to spend my time with, but I upheld my bargain--for the most part. I'm easily distractable and a thing or two required my attention during that time, but I think, by and large, I got my hour in. I think I'm better for it, and hopefully will be as it continues.
In related news, I'm well aware that I haven't written anything in here since July. Maybe I should resolve to keep up more, but you know me and resolutions...
We had an open house for our office. It's a program that needs some assessing (but that's a different story for a different day) but the gist was that we had some food set up in the area adjacent to our office to entice people to come in and learn about what we had to offer. Because our office is tucked a good deal out of the way in our student union, our primary traffic was folks for whom we were a destination anyway. At any rate, I was sitting out by the set up for most of the duration, and a coworker of mine took a shift as I ate lunch. When I returned, she shared with me an article from About Campus that she had been reading to pass both to pass the time and because it related to some assessment she's looking to do, and invited me to read it while I sat out in the often empty hallway.
I was hit with a simple truth: I'm often piss-poor about reading in the field, especially if it's not on the computer screen in front of me, and/or hasn't been assigned for a meeting. I resolved--ok, made the decision--right there that I'm going to start setting aside an hour a week for some form of reading in the field or related topics. It doesn't have to be anything in particular, and can be a lowbrow or high-falutin' as I feel like in any given week, but I intend to do it, and I've made the deal that while I can move it if my schedule calls for it, it can only be rescheduled, not canceled.
Today I did it for the first time, and while I'll admit I did a bit of bookshelf channel-surfing before landing on what I was going to spend my time with, but I upheld my bargain--for the most part. I'm easily distractable and a thing or two required my attention during that time, but I think, by and large, I got my hour in. I think I'm better for it, and hopefully will be as it continues.
In related news, I'm well aware that I haven't written anything in here since July. Maybe I should resolve to keep up more, but you know me and resolutions...
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