I'd like to begin this post with two simple truths. Both of these are things you know if you know me personally or have spoken with me for more than a second and a half:
1. I am a word nerd.
2. I am a band nerd.
It is these facts, and their intersection, that led me here. At one point in the not-so-distant past, I was thinking about athletic bands (read: in my natural state). Much of the experience that led me into the field of student affairs in the first place was being a member of and student leader within the pep band at my undergraduate institution. Thinking of that experience - one that involved both a credit-bearing course and a out-of-classroom leadership opportunity - I struggled to think of a term to describe this sort of experience. I toyed with my knowledge of prefixes and word roots and considered: Pericurricular? Paracurricular? I then realized: The perfect word is already out there, and it's in use: Cocurricular.
In student affairs, we like the word cocurricular. We should - it places us as equal partners at the table that is the higher education enterprise. Co- means with; that is, the curriculum with the cocurriculum comprise the college experience. We are the copilot to academics - both are necessary to land the plane successfully.
In contrast, say the word "extracurricular" in a student affairs crowd. The responses are likely to be similar to those from the word "dorm" (that's another post for another day). But why? We hear extra- (note the hyphen) and we think extra: Optional, unnecessary, might be a nice treat, but certainly not vital. But extracurricular is much less a value judgment and more simply a declarative statement: Extra- means outside of (or beyond, if you want to get on your high horse), and except in the instances where our work has a credit-bearing component, this modifier is accurate. We do indeed exist outside the curriculum. This isn't, and shouldn't be used as, a tool to downgrade what we do.
So which is right? As I've hopefully demonstrated, both are. I'll keep walking the walk and speaking the cocurricular language of our profession, but when it comes right down to it, you won't hurt my feelings one bit if you refer to the extremely important work I do as extracurricular.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Hitting the Books
I was inspired to pick this thing back up after an idea was sparked by graduate assistant interviews yesterday and fed by a post today from +Amma Marfo. Reading is fundamental, to be sure, but is it the only marker of continued intellect?
Yesterday, when interviewing for graduate assistants, we asked the ubiquitous "what do you like to do for fun?" question (quick tangent: If ever I ask this question of you, it's not a trap, Admiral Ackbar. I'm not trying to trick you into connecting it back into work. I legitimately want to know what you do for fun.). It quickly morphed into "...and what was the last book you read for pleasure?" Each of the candidates had an answer, but what if they hadn't?
I'll be honest with you. There was a period of time - probably a couple years, if I were to put a number on it - when I did not read for pleasure. I did such on a very limited basis when I was a graduate student, and in the year or two that followed, after 19 consecutive years of schooling, I simply didn't want to look at a book. If asked the question, I surely could have reached back for an answer, but it wouldn't have been current.
The reason for the question is clear, and at most levels, pretty sound. As a culture in general, and as a higher education community specifically, we place a premium on reading as the mark of a learned citizen. Reading expands the mind, entices the imagination, and gives you something interesting to talk about at cocktail parties. On an individual level, this is by no means my personal Fahrenheit 451; I consider a love of reading to be part of my life's foundation and a favorite pastime from childhood that endures to this day. But I'll also admit that I consider myself "in the middle" of three different books right now, and yet there are many times when reading falls pretty low on the depth chart of things I need to do or even leisure activities. I like reading, to be sure, but I don't love reading as I once did, at least not if we consider books to be the sole currency of worthwhile reading. I read newspapers (not nearly as often as I should, I'll admit as the son of a copy editor). I read articles, online and in print. I read magazines, both scholarly and frivolous. It's entirely possible that I'm flexing that muscle without having a book on my nightstand.
What's more, I engage in conversation. I think critically. I write. I compose music (also not nearly as often as I should). I cook. I travel. I attend local theater. And yes, I spend a ton of time online, much of it frivolous, but much of it learning, often from others, whether directly or indirectly. Are these to be placed at less value than reading? If my answer to the last book question were "I don't really read," or even more damning, "I don't really like to read," how would that be received? For some, that could be the honest answer, and yet I suspect it would weigh negatively, consciously or subconsciously, on the evaluator's assessment. There's an expectation that we all like to read, or should like to read, and it simply isn't so. What's more, a learning disability or visual impairment could keep reading from being enjoyable.
By no means am I suggesting that anyone shouldn't love to read, I'm simply saying it's not a crime if one doesn't.
Yesterday, when interviewing for graduate assistants, we asked the ubiquitous "what do you like to do for fun?" question (quick tangent: If ever I ask this question of you, it's not a trap, Admiral Ackbar. I'm not trying to trick you into connecting it back into work. I legitimately want to know what you do for fun.). It quickly morphed into "...and what was the last book you read for pleasure?" Each of the candidates had an answer, but what if they hadn't?
I'll be honest with you. There was a period of time - probably a couple years, if I were to put a number on it - when I did not read for pleasure. I did such on a very limited basis when I was a graduate student, and in the year or two that followed, after 19 consecutive years of schooling, I simply didn't want to look at a book. If asked the question, I surely could have reached back for an answer, but it wouldn't have been current.
The reason for the question is clear, and at most levels, pretty sound. As a culture in general, and as a higher education community specifically, we place a premium on reading as the mark of a learned citizen. Reading expands the mind, entices the imagination, and gives you something interesting to talk about at cocktail parties. On an individual level, this is by no means my personal Fahrenheit 451; I consider a love of reading to be part of my life's foundation and a favorite pastime from childhood that endures to this day. But I'll also admit that I consider myself "in the middle" of three different books right now, and yet there are many times when reading falls pretty low on the depth chart of things I need to do or even leisure activities. I like reading, to be sure, but I don't love reading as I once did, at least not if we consider books to be the sole currency of worthwhile reading. I read newspapers (not nearly as often as I should, I'll admit as the son of a copy editor). I read articles, online and in print. I read magazines, both scholarly and frivolous. It's entirely possible that I'm flexing that muscle without having a book on my nightstand.
What's more, I engage in conversation. I think critically. I write. I compose music (also not nearly as often as I should). I cook. I travel. I attend local theater. And yes, I spend a ton of time online, much of it frivolous, but much of it learning, often from others, whether directly or indirectly. Are these to be placed at less value than reading? If my answer to the last book question were "I don't really read," or even more damning, "I don't really like to read," how would that be received? For some, that could be the honest answer, and yet I suspect it would weigh negatively, consciously or subconsciously, on the evaluator's assessment. There's an expectation that we all like to read, or should like to read, and it simply isn't so. What's more, a learning disability or visual impairment could keep reading from being enjoyable.
By no means am I suggesting that anyone shouldn't love to read, I'm simply saying it's not a crime if one doesn't.
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