It's My Job, but...

UNCG Multicultural Greek Council and Friends

...I hope that didn't sound how I think it might have.

Tonight, I went out to support our Multicultural Greek Council at Meet the Greeks, an event where they introduce attendees to the world of culturally-based Greek letter organizations. It was very well put together - I'd expect as much from these students - and featured culturally based Greeks from our campus and elsewhere throughout North Carolina. On multiple occasions throughout the night, members of the organizing sororities thanked me for being there. And I said, on more than one occasion, "It's my job!"

And it is, in the macro sense. In my support of fraternity & sorority life, I support ALL of the fraternities and sororities on campus. In my community, nearly two out of every three Greeks is a Panhellenic sorority woman. IFC men make up another substantial chunk, with both MGC and NPHC having smaller populations. It would be easy - justifiable, even - to divide my time proportionately, giving little attention to the smaller councils. But I make the commitment as a professional to support all of my students fairly. So yes, it was my job to be there, in support of my students. I said it much in the same manner that I might say "no problem" to someone saying thank you.

But there was no particular mandate to attend that event. That was a choice I made in the manner that I execute my position. So I hope when I said "it's my job!" my students didn't hear, "I'm here because I have to be," because that's not accurate. I was there out of duty and love to support our whole community. I sincerely thank those students who thanked me, because what they were saying is that it means a lot to them that I'm there for them as I would be for anyone else. I'm glad that they feel that way - because it's true.

Don't call it a comeback...

Well now, it's been a bit - nearly two years, by my count. As a matter of brief re-introduction: While the blog began in and draws its title from my days in campus programming, I'm actually working in fraternity/sorority life these days. This is important to note with the post at hand, which I made in a series of tweets and figured it was best shared here. You know, because I have a blog.

Extra-! Extra-! Read all about it!

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.

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.

Beloit College Mindset List Highlights Generational Differences

...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.

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?

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.