Thursday, October 4, 2018

Getting it Right (after getting it wrong): Personal growth


Sometimes there are words that just stop you in your tracks. I can’t remember where I read it, but I was reading about one of my current heroes, Dr. Sara Goldrick-Rab, and her creation of the Faculty and Students Together (FAST) fund to grant emergency support to students with as little red tape as possible. And I may be paraphrasing but she said something along the lines of “I don’t spend any time worrying about who deserves this money, because lots of people deserve this money.” It was the perfect way of describing the flaw in so much of what we do to help people. We waste incredible amounts of time trying to decide who “deserves” the help and put students in situations where they have to tell their story multiple times and hope to “qualify” for help when the criteria say they deserve it. Dr. Goldrick-Rab’s simple statement punched a hole right in the middle of that kind of thinking and laid bare the implications and power differentials that are flaws in what is surely well intended. Along with a friend, I worked immediately with our Foundation Director to establish a FAST Fund at Western that honors the faculty-student relationship and we hope to grow the fund to help students. You can learn more about Dr. Goldrick-Rab's work here FAST, but that’s not the story I want to tell.

This story is about me and how you have to keep challenging your basic assumptions throughout your career. If you don’t, you can end up in well-intended places that are really just kind of wrong in hindsight. It’s also a story about embedded practice and what becomes “normal” and the incredible resistance that can create to change. As I've started to move my division down the road we are calling poverty informed practice, I've encountered resistance in the oddest spots and over the smallest things. And it almost always has to do with the idea of who "deserves" something. Our driving statement is "Every barrier that CAN BE removed SHOULD BE removed", but getting there is an on-going project.

One of the areas we administer is preparation and testing for the Certificate of General Educational Development (GED). It's a checkpoint on the way to college and changing economic reality for hundreds of our students every year. Classes are free, but there is a fee for testing and that can be a barrier. Ten years ago, I helped create a GED Assistance Fund that students could apply to if they needed help with costs so paying wouldn't be a barrier. And with the best of intentions, we built a process with criteria, we donated and fundraised, and our process culminated with the student meeting with the dean (that's me) to finalize the award. We asked if they had exhausted other options and evaluated where they were in their progress so we would be making a good "investment." We were afraid we would run out of money, so criteria and screening seemed wise... Based on what I know now, I want to go back and shake me for the process I developed, but at the time it seemed well intentioned and it would allow me to have contact with students in a personal way and help me stay connected to the day to day challenges they face. I even ran around campus touting the stories I heard, so people would understand the college experience for our most vulnerable students. Oh yeah, and I granted the funding to 100% of students I met with
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Fast forward 9 years, through a collection of amazing stories, and lots of successful students, and yet now I know I was dead wrong. The first hints were at faculty meetings when a couple brave faculty said they thought some students avoided applying because meeting with a dean was too intimidating and they didn't want to have to tell their story again. "But how could that be?" I asked. "I love these conversations, and I think we really connect, and I grant the funding every time." I protested. It seemed clear that the research said that help plus a personal connection was the right thing to do, so I didn't listen and plowed on. I even created our FAST Fund which acknowledged the primacy of faculty to student relationships, but kept my own blind spot.

And then two months ago, I was bragging to two of my closest co-workers about FAST and how it was exactly what students needed and that it respected the student. They looked at me incredulously and said "Do you not see the contrast to GED Assistance?" And to be honest, I couldn't... I had created it, I was proud of it, and I was pretty sure the personal connection to students was important. My co-workers pushed back and said they were sure that connection was important but couldn't we do that elsewhere and change the fund. I'd like to say a thunderbolt hit me and I got it that day, but mostly I got mad. The afternoon conversation led to an evening of texting back and forth and it's embarrassing to admit how entrenched I was in my old idea. All I could hear was I had done it "wrong" and that made me defensive. Eventually one of these trusted co-workers told me that my well-intentioned system was "coercive", and that seemed to be the word that got my attention. We had set up a system to figure out who deserved help, when in reality, lots of people deserve help (Thanks SGR). We (I) had set up a system where a student had to tell and retell their story to get what they need, and we then encouraged/required them to write thank you notes to encourage more donors. It was coercive, and the realization hurt.

So we stopped. We now use a FAST type model but have gone even further. Any staff in our area who is aware of a student who needs funding can authorize it, no questions asked. In our field, relationships get built in lots of places, with faculty, with office staff, with counselors, and yes even with administrators. And a student should only have to share their story one time, with someone they trust. Now we wonder, what other systems did we build with the best of intentions that could be much better and create that sense of belonging that we are striving for. I wonder if readers of this will see similar flaws in their own work. There is so much to be done and figuring out who "deserves" help isn't something I'm interested in any more. Everyone needs help.

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