Insomnia sucks

Why am I still up?

I went to bed about three hours ago, but woke up worrying about the current shitstorm involving SGA and ILSOC. I got up to get a glass of water and hammer out a short list of talking points I'd like to address when I meet with the SGA Academic Affairs Committee's chair tomorrow afternoon. I want the points on this list said, not mis-said. I want to be clear and forthright, I want to be honest. I want no more bullshit. I want continued and ongoing discussion between our respective groups. That's all I want. I don't think it's too much to ask for.

I realized earlier this evening that I've gotten older and wiser, and concomitantly more pragmatic and less idealistic, than I once was: fifteen years ago when I was these students' age, I was just as impetuous and hot-headed, just as incapable of seeing things in anything other than black and white. I was just as committed to lofty, unrealistic and unattainable ideals. I was much more excited by storming the castle walls than I was by sitting in the boring committee meetings taking place in the castle's keep.

Case in point: it was much more exciting to deliver my valedictory address in high school than it was to serve as a student representative on the committee to hire a new principal for my high school (a position that was no doubt granted me on account of said valedictory address).

More context? My valedictory address wasn't the standard saccharine "here we all are now and now we're off to somewhere else to bigger and better things, but wasn't it fun, y'all?" It was essentially a scathing report on what I felt were shortcomings in the public educational system I had gone through. (It's worth noting that, knowing much more about the state of K-12 education in this country now than I did then, I feel even more strongly about some of those shortcomings now.)

After delivering this opus magnum to the assembled crowd of a thousand or so students, friends, and family, I was given the chance to serve on the committee I mentioned above. Not having been overly involved in many student organizations in high school (I am what I am, and I have no regrets, but I wish I'd been more involved back then), I was unaccustomed to committee work, and I found my day-or-two-long involvement with this hiring committee to be dull, dry, and uneventful.

However, as I realize now, it was a far more effective means of enacting change than delivering a rousing and rafter-raising speech to a bunch of pimply-faced teens and their parents. As a member of that committee, I was getting involved meaningfully in the institutional process; I had a role, and I had a voice.

There was an interesting parallel that took place yesterday: on my way from a conversation with a colleague who's visiting my department to study our program's successes, I walked past a walk-out sponsored by Students for a Democratic Society (yes, they still exist). The walk-out's organizers stood on a stage at the foot of the library steps, shouting slogans with which I agree ("education is a right, and not a privilege!") and calling for laudable goals ("Affordable educations! Reasonable demands on faculty!").

I couldn't stay and listen, though I would have liked to: I was on my way to the first of three discussion sessions whose purpose is to decide on our school's QEP (Quality Enhancement Plan...Number 7 in this sampler; you'll be seeing me write much more about it in the coming months). The QEP session was not fantastically well-attended. There were perhaps twenty people present for most of the session, and most of these (12 to 15) were students involved with SGA. I was happy to see them there, but I was chagrined that there weren't more faculty present.

About ten minutes into the session, we heard shouting outside in the halls: SDS had moved their protest to the student union.

Here's where the parallel begins: the folks who had assembled in order to help identify and reify what meaningful institutional change looks like, with the ultimate goal of enacting that change (and we will, because we must!) were getting drowned out by people shouting about their desire for change. I respect the point of view the SDS students were expressing, and for the most part I agree with it. I feel, however, that they could have accomplished more by joining us in our relatively stodgy and conventional discussion than by shouting in the halls.

Maybe I'm just getting old.

Meh. I'm going to have another crack at sleep. I'll see you on the sunny side.

Open it up

Ugh.

The conflagration which sprang up a couple of weeks ago between the representatives of ILSOC and the Student Government Association, and which was later checked (see this initial post, and this, more upbeat, one) has found new life, and I hope that calm and diplomacy will prevail.

Let me simply say I hope that all parties involved truly have the best interest of the students (and the campus community as a whole) at heart. I know that I do.

I wish everyone were as open as I am.

I realized this evening as I was wandering the aisles at Ingles, picking up ingredients for risotto and mojitos, that I've never really been afraid of opening myself up, professionally speaking. I've never feared showing my true intentions, I've never feared making my methods known, never feared that people might find fault and call me on it. I've always been up to dealing fairly and openly with others. (This blog, nearly 450 posts strong and personal as hell, is a living testament to that fearless openness. I want every one of my students and colleagues to know what it is I'm thinking as I enter into my dealings with them.) This was true even before I received tenure, and it's certainly true now that tenure has been granted to me.

And it puzzles me, and sometimes perplexes me, when others fail to offer the same openness.

As annoyed as I am with certain members of the SGA right now, in some ways I can understand their annoyance with me as well. I made a promise (of unrestrained openness) to them that I might not be able to keep (because it wasn't really my promise to make in the first place, I'm afraid), and in not keeping that promise I may have fed their perception that the faculty are not ultimately concerned with their well-being.

We do care, though. The current members of ILSOC are workaholics like me, accustomed to 60-plus-hour work weeks, unrewarding and thankless tasks which affect only incremental (and seldom truly meaningful) change, and the slow, slow inexorable grind of institutional change that takes years, if not decades, to accomplish. We do all of this on top of teaching, and I know personally that all of the current members of ILSOC are exemplary teachers who give their students their all, day in and day out. Their efforts are tireless, and their concern is real and unaffected.

We wouldn't do what we do, and for as little extrinsic reward as we do it, if we didn't care. And I hope that the students don't lost sight of that.

Okay, I can't think of anything coherent or meaningful to say to top that, so I'm off to bed. Tomorrow promises to be interesting...

The importance of being earnest

Doomsday averted.

This morning's Writing Intensive Subcommittee meeting was wonderfully productive (we plowed through a TON of tasks), and the pre-meeting conversation I had with the Student Government Association (SGA) rep who's been in conversation with me for the past few weeks (let's call him Kenyon) was even more productive.

I think we're on the same page now. I had a bit of a "come to Jesus meetin'" with this young man, and we were both very honest and open about our concerns. I realized early on that he's more the messenger than the source, and that his intentions are good ones. "We have to be open with each other," I insisted. "We can't sneak around, we can't take part in romantic revolutions are crusades. We have a number of common concerns, I'm sure, and we can work on them together...if we choose to talk to one another about them." He agreed.

He sat in on our meeting, and though I think he's got a thing or two to learn about note-taking, I admire him for following fairly well the course of a rather convoluted proceedings. We hit everything under the sun, from the minutiae of WI proposal wording to the philosophical underpinnings of the WI mission itself...and faculty development and assessment in between. A real trouper!

We agreed by the end of the meeting that it would be worthwhile to establish some sort of "liaisonship" between SGA and ILSOC (or some of the willing subcommittees thereof) in order to open, maintain, and benefit from a dialogue between faculty and students on issues pertaining to ILS and other academic affairs which affect us all. He invited me to attend this evening's meeting of the Academic Affairs Committee of SGA (on which he serves, and for which he's been running his little end-runs).

So I went. I'm glad that I did.

The meeting, held in the SGA offices in the student union, was attended by six members of SGA and me. It was unassuming and informal, as Kenyon assured me it would be. The students took turns reporting on their progress on their individual "homework assignments" from the previous week. One had been sent to data-mine various sets of statistics concerning the ILS Clusters, in the hopes of finding correlation between students' choice of topical clusters and their majors. (Undoubtedly such correlation exists...and as it happens this is one of the students' primary concerns, to which I'll return in a bit.) Another reported on the SACS (Southern Association of Colleges and Schools, our accreditation agency) meeting he had attended. I commended him for his ability to bust out all of the buzzwords.

Kenyon discussed his meeting with me and his attendance of the WI meeting, and I took a moment to explain our feelings about establishing a "liaisonship" between SGA and ILSOC. I'm not sure that everyone at the table was sold about the efficacy of establishing such a dialogue, but one of the student leaders (the Vice President, Samantha), was totally on board. She pleaded vigorously and eloquently for our case, and I'm glad that she did. I think her advocacy helped the case considerably.

As the meeting went on I became a little more annoyed by the continued reluctance of the students simply to come out and say what concerns they were having, and it soon came to the fore why it is they have this reluctance. Historically, it appears, every time they've brought complaints to faculty, they've either (a) been blown off or (b) been told that they need "data" to back up their claims.

So they've been gathering data.

I let them know that they were likely talking to the wrong faculty back then, but that they should feel safe in talking to me and to the other members of ILSOC. At this time, ILSOC consists of very active, engaged, and motivated faculty who are heavily invested in meaningful interdisciplinary learning and fully committed to the spirit of the ILS program. They won't need to sell their story; we've bought it already, and we're eager to talk. I assured the students that we are the people they need to talk to. Samantha was resold, and once again Kenyon put himself forward as a liaison.

After the meeting I lingered a bit and talked some more with Samantha. At long last I learned a bit more about their specific grievances. For instance, it became evident that their primary concern with the LSIC Colloquia is strongly related to our own: uniformity of the quality of instruction across all colloquia. Knowing this, we can talk about it openly and brainstorm ideas together.

It also became evident that the students' primary concern with ILS Clusters is that students aren't getting enough incentive to be daring in their choice of clusters: because they're so pressed to finish their majors with the number of credit hours they're given (lest they pay egregious overage charges), they find they have to select topical clusters focused on topics cognate to their majors. These students would like to see greater incentives (more flexible rules for "double-dipping" courses? Elimination or lowering of overage fees?) offered to students to try out clusters more distant from the safety of their majors, thereby engaging in a richer interdisciplinary learning experience.

Honestly, this perspective is far more mature than that of many members of the faculty, who simply want to scrap the clusters altogether. (Admittedly, this contingent of curmudgeonly academic extremists is getting smaller each year, as the fogyish stalwarts retire one by one.) I was thoroughly impressed with the students' position, and I told them so. We can definitely work with them on this.

Ultimately, as I said above, I'm glad that I went to the meeting. A lot was accomplished, and I'm excited to see the directions in which this heads.

Before I go I should mention one more (not wholly unrelated) incident. Late this afternoon, while sitting in my office, I overheard a couple of my Linear students (sitting in the near end of the Math Lab) quietly voicing their frustrations about not being able to keep up in class because of the way we'd plowed through the definition and derivation of eigenvalues and eigenvectors. I guess we'd been moving a bit too fast. Although I felt a bit uneasy about admitting to my eavesdropping, I sneaked across the hall and joined in the conversation.

"You've got to let me know," I told them, "if you're having trouble with something."

"I'm just not one of those people who can pick it up really fast," one of them said. "I have to think about it and let it sink in before I understand it."

Although at first the conversation was a bit strained and awkward (I had been eavesdropping, after all), after a bit it warmed up. I agreed to keep tabs on the pace, and to throw in a few more examples and explanations here when needed. They agreed to let me know if things get moving too quickly again.

"I understand that you can't change the way you teach the class for just one person," the more outspoken student said.

"True," I admited. "That's what makes it hard, hearing, as I do, from all of you all of the time. It's awfully hard to teach a course at any sort of pace when I don't want to leave anyone behind. On the other hand, though, I can take your perspective into account and use it, along with everyone else's, to come up with a sort of 'normalized' perspective. If I only hear from the people who are chugging on ahead, I can't help but think everyone's all right with the way things are going. I need to hear from folks like you."

I know it took courage for them to have that conversation with me, and I'm really impressed with that courage. I told them how much I appreciated their earnestness and forthrightness. I think that conversation, a difficult one for both sides, was a fruitful one.

Students, please remember this: there's no shame in taking a little more time to learn something than some of your peers. It's okay to be confused. If anything, there's shame in not owning up to your confusion in the first place.

I guess the moral of the story (by now a twice-told tale) is: if you've got a tale to tell, tell it. Someone will be willing to listen.