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.

Signs of Progress

My friend/associate dean/partner Mandy likes to remind me that truly having a purpose is rare and people crave purpose. She and I argue over nearly every work topic possible, but she is 100% right on this one. Last June, I challenged my team (and by extension my college) to turn toward students in poverty in a focused, determined, and poverty informed manner. I challenged them to not settle for half-measures and to fearlessly search for barriers to student success so we could remove those barriers at every opportunity. In fact, that became our mantra, Every Barrier That Can Be Removed, Should Be Removed. In June, I spent time in public and private forums making the case doing this work was not just correct, it was smart. I made the case figuring out how to serve students with the most daunting barriers wasn't just a moral crusade, but would in fact teach us how to improve in ways we hadn't really considered. Our students with barriers teach us in ways students with more advantages never could. Our purpose was clear. Would people be drawn to it? Would it make a difference? The answer to both questions is a resounding yes! Let me share a few indicators.

Jessica and Karen

A million little things have happened that show people are drawn to purpose and want to be cause driven. In just the last semester, one of my office staff (a couple of those rock stars are pictured to the left) purchased scrubs for a student who couldn't afford them after overhearing a conversation in our lobby. When I told her that was way above and beyond, she said she felt compelled because it was a barrier she could remove. One of our faculty learned in a conversation with a student that he was sleeping in his car while pursuing a degree full-time. She spent the day working with him and ended up accompanying him to the local shelter to make sure he could get a bed. She didn't know he'd been turned away before, and I have to believe her presence and title helped him get what he needed. Dr. Donna Beegle tells us using our titles and authority to advocate for people in poverty can be a powerful tool on an individual level, and I was pleased to see that in action. Our commitment to our purpose continued to show when another student found out he owed fines and was going to have to sit in jail because he couldn't afford to pay them. The counselor in our area, along with a teacher's aide, couldn't stand to see success interrupted for what essentially felt like debtor's prison, so they organized a collection across the division and enabled the student to continue chasing his dreams. Our Board Chair broached the idea of "safe parking' for students sheltering in cars and our Vice President of Finance specifically mentioned Poverty Informed Practice as a type of first choice service at our all-college day last week. I'd say the jury is in, purpose draws passion.

Dan

Beyond the little things, there are system indicators our movement is taking hold. The biggest one is enrollment. We stripped away an entire level of developmental coursework this academic year and by all logic our enrollment should be down. It's not, not even close... Our summer term was up by 30 percent and our fall term will have a double figure increase when all is said and done as well. One semester could be an anomaly, two in a row feels like evidence. Our efforts to meet basic needs, create belonging, and accelerate progress are drawing and retaining students. Like I said, these students solve our issues internally and externally. Internally, they strengthen our enrollment, and when we retain and graduate them, we meet workforce needs for employers strained by 3% unemployment rates. Winning! Another systemic indicator happened last week when a group of faculty met to discuss a textbook change, and the first consideration was how to teach the course with Open Educational Resources. I'm pleased to say they eliminated the textbook and the burden for students a textbook brings. There are many other indicators, but let me share two more from last week. Our Sustainability Coordinator wants to meet to discuss how we can partner because the impact of the issues he addresses will hit the poor first. And last, our Director of Enterprise Services along with our Food Service Manager, Community Engagement Coordinator, and Student Life Coordinator devised a way to let students with a meal plan support students who are struggling with food insecurity. This last one is extra meaningful to me for two reasons. The first is because my friend Dan, the Director of Enterprise Services, said something like "oh geez, I suppose we will be in your blog now won't we..." at the end of the meeting. His picture is above... You're welcome Dan:). The second is because this partnership shows us at our best. Dan is my friend, but I can almost guarantee we have rarely checked the same names on a ballot. Our partnership shows poverty and helping students is a purpose which unites us, no matter our personal and political persuasions.

One of the great concrete indicators of staff being drawn to purpose is The Bowl, a simple bowl of snacks in our lobby which creates community and provides the ability to go to class without an empty stomach. I've written about The Bowl more than once (read one story here), but the power of this simple concrete action continues to astound me. We fill The Bowl

The Bowl

roughly five times a day, which means we go through a lot of snacks. When we started doing this we committed to the idea of no rationing and no monitoring or judging of what people take. The Bowl is stocked almost entirely through donations. The donations started internally as a few of us are regular weekend shoppers who add to our stash and some folks drop off things on random mornings. Then we started to receive gifts of cash and food from readers of these articles, which was humbling. We also have had staff from across the college make contributions including one whose wife goes every other week for a giant box of granola bars because she wants to help. It's beyond moving, and recently we've received anonymous cash donations of $500 and $1000 respectively. I can't count how many times I've been told The Bowl isn't sustainable. Purpose is sustainable.

Our commitment to Poverty Informed Practice is about leveling the playing field and changing outcomes for students in poverty. But it is also about giving voice to people who have had to stand at the back of the line and hope their needs get met. So let me finish by telling you about a couple of those amazing folks. My friend Emmie (pictured to the right)

Emmie and the author

just started her second semester pursuing her dream of a business management degree. Her situation and story haven't gotten simpler (Emmie's story), but she perseveres. A sixth grade class in Missouri watched Emmie's YouTube video, and it moved one of the students to share with the class that her family had struggled with homelessness as well. Emmie is an inspiration, so we were all thrilled when she emailed us the other day to tell us she had received a scholarship to help pay for her degree. She thanked us for letting the college be her safe place and said the scholarship showed her she was doing the right thing. The other person that came to mind today was Andrea

Andrea

(pictured above on the left with some of her support team. (Andrea's story) Andrea was recently asked by our College's leadership team to accompany them to Washington DC in February to speak with legislators about the value of a technical college education. It's a remarkable honor for a remarkable woman. We are beyond proud to be part of her #RealCollege story. There are so many student stories, and I wish I could share them all. But, let's stop here for now and recognize when things seem overwhelming and progress is hard to find, there are signs of progress everywhere. Purpose is powerful, it truly is, and our students teach us about our purpose every single day.

It's Not Fair

I had an entirely different article in mind for this week. I was going to share some of the signs that our movement is taking hold on our campus, and there are so many, but they will have to wait. I knew that CBS Sunday Morning was going to highlight the issue of homelessness on campus, but I didn't know my reaction would be so visceral. (Watch here) The video is amazing and features students overcoming circumstances most of us couldn't comprehend. Sara Goldrick-Rab was featured, and I was grateful that she continues to shine a light on this issue, but mostly I was just angry and sad. Mostly, I was struck by how unfair things are, and I am afraid we will celebrate the heroism of these students (and they are incredible), rather than the insanity of the situation they are in even existing. Let me try to explain.

I graduated from High School in 1988 (That's me with my grandparents below), and I earned my bachelor's degree in 2000. That's correct, it was a 12 year process to get a college diploma. It's a long story that starts at UW-Madison, detours to UW-La Crosse, involves some time wandering the desert (metaphorically), and ends at Winona State University. I don't have a clear story to explain why my path was so crooked and really it doesn't matter. It was all tied up in a giant undiagnosed anxiety disorder, some post-traumatic stress, and my own failings, but what is more interesting to me today is how I was allowed to work through it, and the contrast of those who don't get the same accommodations through an accident of birth. My grandparents (on dad's side) had dropped out of high school as teen parents and worked their way out of generational poverty to the working class. My parents both had worked through some stuff (Mom's story) (Dad's story), but by the time I was off to college, Dad was almost a decade away from a felony conviction and Mom was having a good career (although in an abusive relationship and struggling with addiction). I'm not sharing these personal things to be titillating but to make the point that even in less than perfect circumstances, I had access to things that any of the students we saw on TV this morning should have the equivalent of.

Class of '88

I moved into my Dad's basement at age 21, my Mom's basement at 22, again at 24, and for the last time at 27. All those returns were lined up with bumps in the road that had knocked me off course for a while. Before that last return to school at age 27, I had to deal with default on student loans, non-existent credit, being academically suspended (a couple of times), and deceiving people about all of the above, but I had advantages to overcome those things, and I didn't see those advantages in the video today. I check a whole bunch of privilege boxes and I fully acknowledge my privilege is one of the reasons I was allowed second (and third) chances. But I also had support, which created hope, and hope is a real thing. I had people who would put a roof over my head when I needed one and made sure my belly was full while I retreated and regrouped. They were far from perfect (as was I), but what an amazing asset and I didn't do anything to "earn" it other than being born in the right time and place. Today I was so angry at the contrast between my experience and the ones I saw on TV. How do we know their reality and not do things radically differently? We cannot require heroism to get what you need. We cannot sell education as a strategy to escape poverty and allow these barriers to exist. I was reminded of a great quote from an article I read last year about Hazim Hardeman, a student who came from poverty and became a Rhodes Scholar (Hazim's story). In the middle of the article, Hazim said the most powerful thing. Instead of being addicted to a Horatio Alger myth which probably never existed he reminded us, “Don’t be happy for me that I overcame these barriers, be mad as hell that they exist in the first place.”

Mad as hell is exactly how I felt this morning as I watched a young woman who made it through college living in a van. I thought of the young man I met on the street near my campus last fall. I had introduced myself and was trying to offer some help to those living outdoors, and as I started to suggest perhaps coming to school, he told me he did go to school, at my college, in my division. Sort of like when you buy a new car and you suddenly notice the make and model everywhere, my eyes were opened. I started to meet students doing amazing things while living in cars, shelters, or on the street. I've written about some of them (Andrea) (Sarah) (Emmie), and while they have had some success, I am just as struck by the fact that we can't celebrate their accomplishments without simultaneously acknowledging we have to do more to give them some margin for error. We know the outcomes for students who don't get support for basic needs. We KNOW the stories we heard today are exceptions, and if we don't start knocking down life barriers, we will leave an infinite pool of untapped potential in shelters, storefronts and vehicles. It is simply not acceptable.

So today, I was reminded our poverty informed work is to see if we can make things fair. Creating fairness takes on all kinds of forms. Fairness is knowing and creating resources that meet basic needs. For heaven's sake we cannot celebrate skipping meals and couch surfing as something we expect of students. Fairness is a poverty informed approach which honors student strengths from the moment they arrive on campus and creates a sense of belonging at every...single...opportunity, with intention. Fairness is a poverty informed classroom which meets students where they are and contains flexibility because their lives and circumstances require it. Fairness means we don't require heroism and endless gratitude to get the things people like me received because of a twist of fate. One of my friends on campus would remind me I might really be talking about equity, and that is true. But today, fairness seems like the right word. In a past life I taught second grade, and no one is more tuned into what is fair and what is not than a seven-year-old. Seven-year-old children get angry when things are unfair and today I am angry. It feels like angry might be the right emotion for now. Anger at unfairness is a great way to keep these issues at the forefront and not retreat to places of emotional safety. So let's love the students we have (credit to my friends at Amarillo College:)), but let's stay a little angry too, so we don't forget.