"The Bowl"

I went hiking with my daughter this morning (That's her in the picture). She is trying to jolt me back

toward fitness after I've neglected myself a little too much all winter. It was very nice, but the nicest part of the morning was including her in my Sunday morning ritual of delivering my weekend purchases to work to stock "The Bowl", our snacks in the lobby for students and anyone who wants them. We were talking about the increased amount of food we are going through (enrollment is up 40% since we started this work:)), and some of the things I've learned through almost a year of trying to create community around food. I thought I'd share some of that learning today.

The first thing I've learned isn't always so pleasant. I knew there was a lot of judgment put on people who are poor, but some days it is just too crystal clear. Poverty is a circumstance, not a character flaw, but that does not seem to be a universal belief. I have been asked many times how we ration what we provide. The simple answer is we don't. As I've written before, we think of The Bowl as hospitality for guests (food for thought), and we would never limit guests or judge them. But I see it every day in subtle and not so subtle ways. One of the less subtle ways is when people note something we are providing is name brand rather than generic, or is something they don't buy at their own home. The subtext always feels like we are doing something people don't deserve or is "too much", which seems suspect to me. These comments are often couched in the guise of concern about our ability to sustain what we are doing, but to be honest it just doesn't feel right. I often talk about the lessons of The Bowl and one of the clearest is that bias runs deep and I think examining how we react to The Bowl is a good way to find our own implicit bias. In fact, I use it as a way to expose just that conversation. What a great way to ask people in a relatively safe space, about why they feel the way they do. Our requirement to stand in awe of our students also causes us to make sure the food is presented nicely. That means when people bring us leftovers from meetings (interesting how often we feed ourselves) etc., we make sure it isn't just flung on the table but laid out for guests we care about. To be fair, The Bowl has also brought out the best in many folks, who contribute regularly, but I'd be lying if I said The Bowl didn't give us a chance to explore our own biases.

The Bowl also changes our proximity to students and that matters (power of proximity). I've been asked several times recently to present on our work and depending on the amount of time I have, I can be kind of verbose, or I can be pretty concise... When brevity is required, I have begun to discuss poverty-informed practice as "an intentional choice to love the students we have." It is hard to truly love someone from a distance and The Bowl puts us together, whether we are serving food or congregating around it. Just last Wednesday, a student saw me carrying in some food and thanked me for buying her breakfast most days. We laughed pretty hard when I showed her the sweet roll in my hand that I was enjoying myself. Our commitment to The Bowl as hospitality, not charity levels the playing field just a little bit and allows us to engage students as the adults they are. I also think for someone like me who grew up with occasional food insecurity, food and love are intertwined. My mom took great pride in feeding us, and even taking us out to eat once a month or so. At her funeral I told the story of how we went out to eat and how she told us it was to learn how to behave in restaurants. But as an adult, I suspect it was more about showing us we could have what other people did and our struggling circumstances didn't mean we couldn't do things that made us happy. My Mom (pictured with her grandchildren above) was quite a lady (lessons from Mom), I can feel the connection between food and love to this day. So, if we actually love the students we have (I feel like I should say trademark Amarillo College), food is one way to show it. It is a concrete, tangible act of caring that connects us in their pursuit of a different future.

The Bowl has also taught me a lot about perception of scarcity and how we build so many systems around fear of scarcity. Currently The Bowl is 100% stocked by donations, and as I said, usage goes up every week. Our original premise was that if we run out, we simply do, but I will admit that premise is anxiety provoking. Even this week, as the food seemed to fly out, my mind began to spin about whether we should have designated "fill-up" times or some other solution to make things last longer. In the end, I chose not to, because The Bowl is at some level an act of faith. I believe that purpose is compelling and sustainable so we trust that more food will appear and people like me will dig a little deeper. I can talk more about that in a moment, but first I want to talk about the effect of a scarcity mentality. So many policies and procedures at our campus and elsewhere are designed around a fear of running out of whatever resource we are distributing. It makes me think of emergency funds that don't get distributed (my own evolution) because of a fear of not having enough, or of not giving it to the "right" people. I often describe what we are trying to do as providing the things my middle-class kids get by default to people who didn't get them by the same accident of birth. Do you know the excess of resources my kids get? Isn't it remarkable that we feel like we have to ration things to people who have been left with so much less through no fault of their own? It gets back to the bias I mentioned earlier, and it is important to call it out. I love my children, but they certainly don't "deserve" things that people born to tougher circumstance do not. We work every day to not let scarcity pervert our systems of support. If we don't have enough to give everyone what they need, pursue more resources, don't withhold what people need.


Lastly, The Bowl has led to a months-long conversation between me and my work partner, Mandy. When we discuss The Bowl and the things it exposes, it always leads to the same discussion. The general topic is basically how much we can and should do, once we know the effects of poverty and inequity. I tend to be the compromising one who thinks we move incrementally toward a better and fairer world, and Mandy is more struck by the urgency and unfairness of current conditions. As people who have chosen careers that are focused on helping others, the question of how comfortable we allow ourselves to be, when others are struggling comes up again and again. Neither of us is rich, but we each live comfortably and sometimes that doesn't feel right when you are surrounded by people who are struggling to meet their basic needs. It doesn't sit right when those same people have the courage to pursue education in a system not always well designed for that pursuit. As I make my purchases every Sunday, and they grow larger, I am facing a very concrete version of this argument. It seems embarrassing to worry about how much I spend on the weekends, when I still go out for lunch or join friends for happy hour after work. There are many other examples of how we could be slightly less comfortable on behalf of those who have so much less, but the unanswerable question is how much is enough? After months of pondering (and debating), my current answer is I don't know... But I do know we have a guiding principle that "Every Barrier That Can Be Removed, Should Be Removed", and that provides some guidance. When you combine that commitment with truly loving the students you have, I think you will end up in the right place, or at least on the right path. Truthfully, we can probably all choose to be a little less comfortable while we pursue making the world a fairer place, and that's what I'm challenging my team to do. I don't know how much is enough, but I know we can continue to do more together. And for now, we keep on filling The Bowl.

Signs of Growth

I've been a little neglectful in my writing in recent weeks. My side hustle as Women's Basketball coach at my college led to a pretty historic season, and I wasn't able to keep up as well as I'd hoped. But many wonderful things are happening at Western, and as I get back to weekly writing, I'd like to start by sharing a few. It was just last summer we audaciously declared our "movement" (our declaration), and a remarkable transformation has happened since then. We have miles to go, but our explicit mission to combat poverty and to the idea that every barrier that can be removed, should be removed has generated energy and interest. We have presented at conferences (with more upcoming), responded to inquiries from other schools, generated newspaper coverage, we have a TV segment filming tomorrow, and last week our district board wanted to know more about our efforts and how to grow them. I don't know for sure what constitutes a movement, but this seems close...

One of the most rewarding things about the growth in our work has been the connections with other institutions fighting for the same cause. Regular readers are well aware of my admiration for Amarillo College and their Culture of Caring work. We have modeled so much of what we are doing on their work, so I will admit to being a little thrilled when they borrowed an idea from us. The very talented Jordan Herrera credited us as the inspiration for their new "Grab and Go" table for students. My partner Mandy said they named theirs better than we did ( The Bowl), but we all agree food for students is a good thing. The Bowl has been so symbolic of what we are trying to do, so it's wonderful to see it catching on. In fact, I have another college joining me for a conference call this week to talk about doing something similar on their campus. If you are looking for a place to start becoming poverty informed, building community with food seems like an excellent place to start. We are currently doing it with donations only, and it serves as a daily reminder of our mission to meet basic needs so students can change their economic reality.

As I mentioned earlier, I also had an opportunity last week to share with our district board. The words "poverty-informed" aren't in our strategic plan (yet), but the work within our division has drawn attention as part of our focus on equity. If you get time with your board, you must take advantage, and I certainly tried to. As we evolve, I'm trying to learn how to talk about this work in concise ways. I'm very leery it will be perceived as a program or a project, when in reality it is philosophical. So, I shared the following four statements to help them understand our point of view. I told them poverty-informed practice is:

• A mindset that allows us to stand in awe of our students who face the impacts of poverty daily and choose college anyway.
• A form of first choice service that acknowledges the audacious courage it takes to pursue education when even your basic needs are tenuous.
• A commitment to reduce barriers for students, so they may use their education to change their economic reality.
• An intentional choice to love the students we have.

It seemed to land home, and we all had fun laughing at my discomfort with talking about love due to my rather repressed Midwestern upbringing. But I have come to believe love is exactly the right word (More on that), as love implies a level of commitment to students other words simply do not convey. The board was supportive and interested and the questions were good ones. The most unique comment I received was from a long-time board member who told me "I've been listening to you for years, but I think I'm starting to get you." I'll take it! At some point in a movement you need influential folks to buy in, and that day helped. It was also helpful to be able to share with them some clear evidence we aren't just being nice, we are making progress. Our enrollment in courses in my area increased 30% last summer, and 40% this fall. We believe that is directly related to the increased sense of belonging we are creating for students as well as our intense focus on accelerating their progress toward stability. This acceleration shows up in many ways and is a fundamental premise of our work, but the clearest indicator is the growth in Credit for Prior Learning (CPL) among our pre-college students. Last year, students earning a high school credential also earned 111 college credits through contextualized curriculum and activities that focus on CPL. We have already exceeded that number this year and have spring and summer terms to complete. CPL is a key to our poverty-informed approach, because it not only saves money and accelerates progress, it creates belief and increases self-efficacy. Anytime we can do more than one thing at once, we do.

As interest in our work grows and the evidence of success begins to mount, we keep reminding people we aren't just doing the right thing, we are doing the smart thing. A poverty-informed approach isn't just a feel-good tactic, it's a workforce solution in a tight labor market. A poverty-informed approach doesn't benefit some at the expense of others, it allows our students with the greatest barriers to teach us how we need to improve for ALL students. I'm looking forward to sharing what our local news puts together with our student Andrea tomorrow (remember Andrea), and I'm looking forward to continuing to give voice to these people who can teach us so much. Our poverty-informed division (and more of the college every day) exists to move people as quickly as possible to meaningful post-secondary training, so they can change their economic reality. When we achieve that goal, students benefit. But our community also benefits, our employers benefit, and frankly the college benefits. When I think about the success or failure of our movement, the universal benefit is what gives me hope. No matter your point of view or frame of reference, this work matters. Let's get to it!

The Power of Proximity

As we move our division (and by extension college) in the direction of poverty-informed, it has become a personal journey as well. The beginning of our poverty-informed work focused on our three pillars: meeting basic needs: creating a sense of belonging and self-efficacy, and acceleration to stability, but we quickly realized this was informed and changed by proximity to the students we serve. One of the dangers of a career in administration is students can become an abstraction, rather than the fully realized human beings they actually are. Our efforts to meet basic needs like our community food bowl (The Bowl), regularly put me in proximity and conversation with students, in different ways. It has transformed how I do my work, and I'd like to try to explain why, so you might go down the same path. So, let me tell you about one of those students. Her name is Sarah, and she is my friend.

If you read these articles regularly (and thank you for that), you've met Sarah (Sarah's story). That's

Sarah and the author

us a few months ago in the lobby of my building on campus. Sarah and I met when she participated in our YouthBuild project while earning her HSED on campus. I've told the story before, but our first real conversation was when our project coordinator asked me to come out and meet with Sarah because she was very upset about something she perceived as unfair that day. It was a brief conversation, and she was very upset, but I was struck by her sense of justice and her intelligence. Sarah has an extreme extrovert's personality, so I knew of her at school because she made frequent stops in our front office, and her teachers also spoke of her often. Sarah was open with them in sharing things she had been through which would bring most of us to our knees. I began to develop an admiration for her, but if I'm honest, it was all at a "safe" distance for me. Sarah was a story, an idea, but in reality, she is so much more than that.

Dr. Donna Beegle tells her personal story and talks about the danger that she could have been written off because her grammar didn't meet middle class expectations when she went to college in her 20's. Getting to know Sarah has reminded me of that story frequently. She grew up in Kentucky and Indiana in trying circumstances, and her use of language can make you forget to notice how kind of brilliant she actually is. But somewhere along the line, Sarah decided I needed to get to know her, and I was blown away by the depth of her knowledge, and the breadth of her interests. She would stop by my office to discuss something about school, and before I knew it, she would be helping me understand the challenges of living in a town where finding a reasonable place to live at a reasonable price is difficult. She is well versed in current events and has no shortage of opinions on how things can be improved. I started to change the way I saw her, and I watched others see her differently as well. Sarah can be very direct and sometimes talks about things you wouldn't expect to talk about at school (she announced she was going to be an aunt in a way that made me blush), but she is direct, compassionate, and genuine. I watched her progress and struggle through our Wood Tech program, and I watched her change our behavior as we looked forward to her daily visits. Our version of being poverty-informed is to suspend judgment, and Sarah is a walking, breathing example of why we must. If we had written her off, we would have missed out on so much.

Sarah earned a certificate in cabinetmaking this spring and started pursuing a degree in Human Services as well. She volunteers extensively at her church and is a tireless advocate for people who are homeless. I often think about the young woman I met in YouthBuild and what my honest expectations were for her. I'm not sure the previous version of me would have seen everything Sarah had to offer the world. It seems significant to me and an important element of becoming truly poverty-informed. You need proximity to the people you serve, you need to be partners in their dreams. We are not searching for diamonds in the rough who can meet our expectations, we are trying to open our eyes and see the strengths students like Sarah bring to our college and the world. Can you see the difference? I think it's what the folks at Amarillo College mean when they say, "Love the students you have." You don't "kind of like them", "be surprised what they can do", or turn them into mascots... You LOVE them and all their outrageous humanity and raw courage. You eliminate the word "enabling" from your vocabulary, and you work to get people what they need.

This last picture was in my office on Friday. It feels different, right? The earlier picture is of a dean

Having fun

and a student who told him he could tell her story as best he understood it. The second picture is of Chad and Sarah. We are partners in seeing what we can become. We learn from each other and frustrate each other and care about each other. I worry that Sarah thinks she needs to go back to work as a carnival worker to make ends meet, and she sincerely worries that my lack of organized religion puts me at risk of eternal damnation. Actually, she kind of rocked my world Friday on that front. Faith has been an important part of Sarah's life, and I respect that. I have a different set of beliefs, and we talk about that from time to time. On Friday, she was concerned about the consequences of my beliefs and her eyes lit up when she asked me how we get snacks each week in the division. I told her one of the ways is I go shopping every Sunday and help stock up. She said. "so you are tithing..." and seemed relieved I may not be a lost cause after all. So, if you aspire to a poverty-informed approach that really gives different results, you don't have to be friends with people you serve, but I believe you do need to find a way to be in proximity to them and the truth of their stories. I believe you may have to take a risk and give up your "safe" distance. And if you are lucky, you might make a friend like Sarah.

Dreams

Last week was the annual Achieving the Dream DREAM conference. They hold it every February, and I've been invited every year and have never been able to go. I coach the Women's Basketball team at my college and February just doesn't work. It's frustrating because it always looks like a great conference, and this year, in particular, had such a strong thread on meeting basic needs and overcoming poverty, issues that are near and dear to my heart. I'm grateful for my colleagues and for the genius of social media to keep me up to date on what happens there. This year they were a little tougher on me though. If you are lucky, you have a partner at your work who shares your vision and has strengths that complement your weaknesses. I'm lucky to have exactly that. Her name is Mandy and she's my associate dean. If you are double lucky, you have a boss who gets what you are trying to do and looks for ways to support that. I also have that. Her name is Kat. Besides being great supporters, they also share a devious sense of humor, and they knew I wanted to be there. Which means tweets like

this one started showing up in my Twitter feed. That's Kat on the left, and Mandy on the right flanking Russell Lowery-Hart of Amarillo College. They also informed me we looked alike, although he rocks the bow tie much better than I do, and obviously I'm just a touch grayer. They were at a #RealCollege reception hanging out with all my heroes... Once they got done making me wish I was there, they also sent me some amazing information that got me reflecting on what we are trying to do with poverty informed practice at Western. Let me share a few thoughts.

During a session with Dr. Lowery-Hart and others from Amarillo, Mandy started sending me a series of quotes and observations that were landing home with her. The one I remember was something along the lines of how we in education have historically made ourselves (college) the long-term goal that needs to be cut out when students are dealing with short-term crisis. We have to be part of the short-term solution, so we don’t get cut out of students' lives... It reminded me of Dr. William Glasser and his idea of "quality world", and if you weren't part of someone's "quality world" you would lose any influence you had with them. It also reminded me of our well-intended, but not poverty informed days when we would suggest to students that they take some time off and come back when they are "ready." As I explained last week, I think we must categorically reject that approach (On "readiness") and find a way to be ready for the student whenever they come to us. We know people in the crisis of poverty are, by definition, dealing with short-term issues. We cannot disrespect their drive to change things by sending them away. If we accept relationships are key to this work, sending them away is a recipe for disaster. So, as we become more poverty informed, we know we need to bring supports and resources to where students are. They are on our campus trying to change their lives. As Dr. Donna Beegle often says, we should stand in awe of their strengths and their courage and do everything we can to help them on their way.

Kat was also communicating pretty regularly and wanted to remind me who else I didn't get to hang out with... That's her and the amazing Sara Goldrick-Rab in

the next photo. Dr. Goldrick-Rab has been an amazing supporter of Western's efforts to emulate her FAST fund and forgiving of my foibles in doing so. Watching Kat make these connections (plus several messages she sent me) reminded me we need to keep working to bring more resources to where people are. Slides on food insecurity reminded me I need to follow up with our local SNAP provider on Monday. We need to get students enrolled, it really can't wait. Like so much equity work (and I consider this equity work), those of us not in crisis have the luxury of pacing ourselves or taking a break when we are burned out. The people who we are serving do not have that luxury, and it is good for me to always remember that.

Missing the conference was hard, but I really did enjoy the barrage of texts, tweets, and emails. But there was one that hit home most directly. I saw it on Twitter first, but Kat and Mandy both confirmed they heard it in person. Cara Crowley was presenting (she's the center of another picture I got to remind me I

wasn't there:)) and someone asked Cara if they ever worry at Amarillo someone might take advantage and misuse the services they provide. Cara's response "No. We don't care. We're not going to build systems that punish 95% of our students for what 5% of students do." So simple and so brilliant. I sent it out to my staff in my Poverty Informed Friday email. We... don't... care... Because they are going to do what's right. Because they aren't going to build systems based on scarcity or fear of abuse. One of the things my team is striving for is how to create a sense of belonging, and not wasting time worrying about a tiny fraction of people who don't behave the way you hope in favor of welcoming the overwhelming majority who do seems like the perfect way to do it. We will start looking again on Monday for policies and procedures we have built on the wrong paradigm. I remember having a messed-up version of GED assistance, built by me (read here), and I don't want to make that mistake again if I can avoid it. I've only met Cara Crowley in person one time, but she got me right where it counts with this one. I think it has the power to change just about everything.

I titled this article Dreams. Obviously, that was in reference to the conference but it is also a reminder of the importance of what we are doing here. I gave a kick-off speech last fall at our all-college day, and I was describing how fortunate we are to do what we do. I said something like, "We don't make widgets, we help people create their future stories." But I also went on to admit remembering that fact was anxiety provoking. These students trust us. Trust demands our respect and requires our care. My president had instructed me (mostly humorously) I needed to give the "best speech of my life" that day, so I was very prepared, maybe overly prepared. So, I surprised myself when I went off my own script and said, "They trust us, they trust us with their dreams and with dreams they don't even know they have yet." What a privilege it is to get to do what we do.

Thoughts on "Readiness"

I see things differently than I used to. It gives me hope that others can too. Although I have seen poverty as a central issue for most of my adult life, I have definitely evolved in how I approach the issue. As I have pushed my team toward a more poverty informed approach (and pushed myself personally), one of the paradigm shifts we have wrestled with is the idea of who is "ready" for college. It's an issue that resonates across the country and a quick Google search will give you plenty to think about. I've come to believe that a poverty informed approach, at an open-admission institution like mine, means readiness is signified by the act of entering our doors and telling us you want to go to school. Let me tell you how I got there and why.

My career in higher education started in 2002, and I was a K-12 teacher before that. I came into K-12 right as No Child Left Behind (NCLB) was at its peak. NCLB was flawed to say the least, but I've always loved the K-12 ethos of finding a path to success for the student in front of you. We often fell short, but I heard a lot less talk about readiness in that world. When I transitioned to the college, I was surprised to hear a lot about assessment and placement testing (but the kind that only placed you in remedial work), and even though it felt odd, I started to internalize the idea you had to be "ready" for college. Occasionally, I'd question it at a meeting, saying it seemed odd to assume we knew what "ready" meant. I'd say it implied we had figured out exactly how college should work, and that seemed improbable. I'd like to say people found me compelling and the world started to shift, but mostly they would look at me like I was from another planet. Eventually, this led to me deciding they must be right, and I must be wrong. Maybe someone from K-12 just didn't get it? Nowadays, I would argue K-12 is way ahead of us on this, but I didn't feel that way back then. I felt like an uninformed outsider.

Deciding we "knew" what it was to be "ready" led to a part of my career I'm not very proud of in hindsight. I recall staff meetings discussing students who were struggling and saying things like "s/he just needs to get some things straightened away, before it is time for school" and other such sentiments. The problem was, we rarely knew exactly how or where they would straighten these things out. We would talk about them needing to "get more stable", when reality was coming to school was seeking stability. Reality was the wages you could earn without post-secondary training were never going to stabilize you. We had invented a imaginary world where students could go fix themselves, and then return to this thing called college when they were ready. It seems like lunacy to me now but listen at your campus, and I'll bet conversations like that occur often. It's in the DNA.

My personal shift started in about 2010, when we started to have discussions about "the profile of the successful student" in preparing for a Title III grant application. The idea was we could identify the behaviors of these students and then teach and encourage other students to emulate them. It was well intended, but it sat wrong with me immediately. I knew enough about poverty to know the successful student wasn't generally in poverty. I also knew enough about our success rates with other marginalized groups and was terrified we would use the "successful student" approach to assume

those groups had deficits and struggled for that reason. So, I started to say the same thing in every planning meeting "Let's prepare the college for the students, not the other way around." I felt pretty brilliant, although later I realized I had "discovered" that idea, about as much as Columbus "discovered" America. People much smarter than me had been talking about the same concept for some time, and it led to great work like the book pictured here "Becoming a Student Ready College." I wish I'd written it, but I certainly didn't. However, I did help shift our grant to the idea that we would research who are students actually were, and then invest in developing our faculty to help them more effectively. We weren't talking about poverty directly yet, but we had put the onus back on the institution, instead of the student. It was an important moment. But our real seismic shift occurred a little over a year ago, when we started to look at our flawed assessment and placement structure. After much debate, there came a clear directive from our leadership to open the doors much wider to students, and then identify the supports they need for success. The work continues today. We started with academic support, but quickly realized what many of us knew instinctively. We didn't lose students due to intelligence or grit, we lost them to life circumstances. Or as I've become fond of saying, "Our students aren't broken, they're broke..." The transformation to being truly poverty-informed will be key to fulfilling our promise.

So, at the end of the day, I have no idea what "ready" means for college. Of course, there are some obvious outliers, but there is so much room in the middle, I'm not sure I care to work on readiness anymore. Like the author's above, I believe our best future is a student ready college that unleashes potential that has gone untapped too long. I believe a campus that takes poverty on in a concerted and focused way could change the world. It's not just good for the individuals we serve (although it certainly is a good thing). My community has a workforce shortage, and so do many others. A technical college that addresses poverty barriers directly and effectively will create a workforce from a population that has been left out of the sunlight of opportunity. That is good for everyone. To do this, we must once and for all, let go of the concept of "readiness." The difference between success and failure is so small and fragile. I'll leave you with a recent story from a student. She was describing her journey from addiction, homelessness, and poverty, to a future at school. She talked about feeling defeated when one staff member implied someone with her background might need to wait to be ready for school, and she talked about how she could have left that day, but another staff member gave her hope and a bag to keep her things in. She shared even now, her success is fragile. She told me a story of forgetting her ID one day, which also serves as a bus pass. She shared she didn't know how she would have gotten home that day, and how she felt hopeless and like school was futile. But she also shared the administrator in that poverty informed department saw her and asked if she was okay, and when she said she didn't know how she was getting home, he found $5 in petty cash and got her on the bus. He didn't know she told a friend later, that for the first time in a year, she had thoughts of giving up and walking to a drug house near campus, and five dollars' worth of kindness eliminated those thoughts. What if we'd told her she needed to go away and fix herself? What would the lost potential of a person be? So, we will be poverty informed and student ready. We must, it's not optional.

Principles and Plans

Our college has a lot of people who are interested in a tool called StrengthsFinder (apparently now called CliftonStrengths by Gallup per Google). I'm never sure about prepackaged tools with "science" behind them that is obscured by being proprietary, but the Strengths work is interesting. My top five strengths put me solidly in a quadrant known as "strategic", which has always been hard for me to reconcile. I'm a very strategic thinker, but things like strategic planning and plans tend to make me a little bit sleepy. I've always described myself as more interested in principles than plans. Maybe it's a distinction without a difference, but not to me. Principles guide decision making when choices have to be made, and I think repeated decision-making based on principles that are internalized (a long obedience), leads to cultural change and as Peter Drucker said, "Culture eats strategy for breakfast." I'm not downplaying the importance of strategic planning, I'm simply trying to say you should know your principles first. Here are a few of ours.

A first principle of Poverty Informed Practice is to embrace a mindset which allows us to stand in awe of our students who face the impacts of poverty daily and choose college anyway. This one comes directly from one of our guiding lights, Dr. Donna Beegle. (Dr. Beegle's website) She's great on social media and today she shared the following on Facebook, "I had a dream the people in the community would come together to stand in awe of their neighbors who live in the crisis of poverty. I dreamed they would treat them with dignity and respect..." She just described what we want to do perfectly. So many of us are so well intended, but I would argue we still fall down trying to "fix" people, or make them behave the way we do. If we get to a place where we genuinely stand in awe of what our students had to do just to be in front of us on a daily basis, everything starts to change. I know this. I'm experiencing this. One of the core principles of our college's strategic plan (see it all fits), is an idea called First Choice Service. Poverty Informed Practice is a form of first choice service that acknowledges the audacious courage it takes to pursue education when even your basic needs are tenuous.

Another core principle of what we are trying to do in Poverty Informed Practice is a commitment to reducing barriers for students, so they may use their education to change their economic reality. This principle informs our guiding mantra, Every Barrier That Can Be Removed, Should Be Removed. It also puts the onus where it should be for a student ready college. A focus on removing barriers assigns responsibility to us and not the students to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" or some other worn out cliche. Preparing the college for the students (vs the opposite) has always seemed like a no-brainer to me, but I may be naive on that front. There is a lot of judgment around individuals in poverty, and they often internalize it. Our vision of being poverty informed means we accept Dr. Beegle's directive to fight poverty, not the people living in it. There is probably an entire article or two to be written about how much people struggle with foregoing judgement, but for today, let's leave it at a core principle of removing barriers is key.

Another principle in our little movement is borrowed from my heroes at

Team Western in DC

Amarillo College. Poverty Informed Practice is an intentional choice to love the students we have, not the students we wish we had. I've written about the power of loving students before (read more here). I am seeing this take hold on our campus in real time. If you have read things I've written earlier, you have heard endless tales of staff connecting to students' stories and finding ways to help them move forward. These are acts of love, and they start to change the culture. My college has always been a very nice place filled with kind people, but this principle and our movement are helping us harness the power of the thing that unites us all, our caring for students. One of the most moving examples of turning to our students for wisdom is happening right now. We have a team in Washington DC telling our story to legislators, and for the second consecutive year, our Legislative Affairs Director made the choice to include a student living in the crisis of poverty. Our student government president made the trip as well, and our student government found the funds to support the students' travel. I've included a photo of the crew, which includes Board Members, Western staff, and the aforementioned students. The photo is a microcosm of the principles I've shared today. We stand in awe of the strength and wisdom of our students. We did what was needed to remove their barriers to participation. And we took the time to get to know them and their stories, because love for students means being partners in their dreams.

I firmly believe people are drawn to clear purpose and passion. Knowing the principles you rest on will give clarity and will attract interest. I've spent much of my career being "reasonable" and went about as far as reasonable could. Last week, I had two younger colleagues ask me to meet them after work, and they asked me a question I've heard several times in the last twelve months, "Chad, what changed?" At first, the question would bother me a little, because I believe what I've always believed, but I understand now. I think what changed is my commitment to principles. The clarity in what I'm trying to do, has eclipsed any need to be "reasonable" and settle for half-measures. I was always afraid if I went to that place, I would lose people, and I probably have. But I say without a doubt, that a steadfast commitment to principles has attracted more energy and enthusiasm than ever before. I can also say without doubt that we have made more progress in twelve months than we had in twelve years prior. We will not go backwards, we cannot allow it, and I hope others will join us.

More From Andrea

For those of you who read these articles regularly (and thank you for that), you probably remember the remarkable Andrea. I've linked her video in case you want to watch again. She has a powerful and compelling #RealCollege story. I knew Andrea fairly well when we did our interview, but I've gotten to know her much better since then. And I was thrilled when she came back to me and wanted to say more. I'm the (very amateur) video editor and while Andrea said she liked the video and article, she also said there were things she wished she'd said or maybe I had edited out. So, she wrote a letter... an amazing letter. And I've included it word for word below.

Dear Mr. Dull,

After our video interview, I wanted to personally thank you. What a privilege it is to have you interested in my story. I appreciate your time and the fact you truly care for all the students. Your intuitive desire for the success of students really has impacted me.

Western Technical College is a place where supporting the success of students is number one! I clung to my education, not understanding why or knowing that it would impact mine and my children's future so greatly. As I mentioned in the video, I was homeless, worn down, and tired of the circle of mess I created. The welcome I received from the counselors and staff gave me encouragement to believe in myself, educationally.

“Name dropping” and giving recognition to each staff member, teacher, goal receptionist, and counselor is very important to me; however, there are too many names to list in this letter! I have all the confidence in saying that each staff member at Western Technical College has the compassion and the desire to support all students in a way I have never seen before; in a way that separates Western from any other community college.

Project Proven was part of the reason why I walked into the college rather than going back to my old ways. That educational foothold was the beginning of my climb out of despair. The Project Proven teacher gave me the tools to study rather than doing what some choose to do in jail like sitting around and playing cards and glorifying the poor decisions that led them there in the first place. The classroom had a library of books that were engaging and reading them was an awesome way to rebuild the reading and fundamental skills that may have been lost through my old lifestyle. Acknowledging God's presence, Bible studying, and working on my education by doing homework, completing study materials, and reading as many books as I could is what supported me through my jail experience.

The Western 5.09 High School Equivalency Diploma program gave me tools to advance in my education. The structure of the classroom time allowed me to obtain time management skills and to be dependable. Studying for the civics exam inspired me to me become involved and to seek knowledge of current events. In the required transitional class, I gained the most knowledge and now I have confidence in myself. I have developed a career portfolio and am prepared for interviewing. Problem solving and goal setting have changed my outlook on life and now I have the skills to succeed.

My financial situation would have hindered me in furthering my education; however, the scholarship foundation has allowed me to continue climbing the ladder of success. Western provides bus passes for all students as well as a pantry with food and personal hygiene products. My life struggles do not need to be faced alone. Personally, for myself, I pray, and God guides me who to seek out for help and when to wait on His timing. No matter the difficulty or the struggle, there are resources and people who care. I have learned that ultimately, the first step starts with me. It is impossible to be helped or to change if you are not willing to do so or to speak up.

Before knowing my identity in Christ, I had no sense of belonging or hope. I was saved, but was searching and trying to do what I thought Christians did. I know now, Christ died for me, for each one of us. So, we do not have to live in guilt and sorrow. I am forgiven; I am not an addict, a bad mother, or any other false tag I or society tries to stamp on as a label. I choose to label myself as Christian, a mother, and a Western student.

In closing, words cannot express the impact that Western has made on my life. I am grateful every moment, knowing my future is not my past. Western has allowed me to have a better outlook and perspective on the fact that I am already successful. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Andrea

Andrea and Mandy

Isn't she something? You see what we mean when we say our students teach us every day. One of my goals in writing regularly about our poverty informed evolution is to give voice to people who might have been overlooked otherwise. Andrea is someone whose voice needs to be heard, and I'm pleased to say others have recognized that as well. Our Senior Leadership Team and District Board invited Andrea (along with my associate dean Mandy) to Washington DC next week to be part of our lobbying efforts. That's them in the photo in case you didn't guess:). Western is bringing someone who tells a #RealCollege story that needs to be heard. I wish I could go too (my coaching responsibilities preclude it), but as our movement grows, it's great to see students like Andrea lead it.