Over the past two and a half years, I have worked in the Department of Student Life at Michigan State University, helping to coordinate the Sexual Assault and Relationship Violence Prevention Program. Although my time spent working with the office diminished from 25 to 10 to 5 hours a week, I have learned a great deal from this position that I would not have learned otherwise. Additionally, my girlfriend is also a student affairs professional, leading to many a conversation about what Student Affairs is and does. I have been, I feel, well exposed. Or at least, more exposed than most anthropology graduate students.

Needless to say, the culture in a student affairs office is dramatically different from that in my office in the Department of Anthropology. A lot of this has to do with the intent of the department: Student Life adopts a student-first orientation, where the single priority is students, particularly their “life outside of the classroom” (a phrase I hate, but people seem to keep using). An academic department such as Anthropology views their discipline first, and students are viewed as one of the priorities through that lens: how do we use anthropology to teach students about the world and how to view it critically? I think that what I have learned at Student Life will (and has been) valuable to my work as a member of an academic department for two reasons: first, it exposes me to a student-first perspective, and second, it provides me with in-depth knowledge about what student affairs programming exists and how I can use it to enhance what I do.

Disclaimer: I’m not suggesting that many faculty or student affairs professionals aren’t capable, or don’t already do, what I’m about to talk about. Many of them do. I’m simply writing about how my exposure to Student Affairs has led me to these realizations about how I hope to approach my professional life. Carry on.

When I walk in the doors at 101 Student Services, I’m responsible for looking at every idea from the perspective of the student. This means I have to look at our programming to figure out how it is relevant to a 19 year old student in 2010. How will this program benefit the student? How will get them there? How will the program get across its message in an effective, relevant way? In order to do this, you have to “know” the student body. You have to know how they work, what they do, what music they listen to, what music they don’t listen to, and so on. You also have to know about where students are developmentally, what skills they have, what they don’t have, why they do what they do. This is part of the student-first perspective. This perspective allows you to keep in touch with what students are thinking, how they perceive the world, and how they are struggling to function within it.

The importance for faculty and administrators in academic departments, then, seems obvious. Instead of asking how can we teach students through anthropology, we can ask how can we teach anthropology to students in ways they will find relevant to their lives and perspectives? How can our teaching help them develop into better people? Instead of focusing on what questions a student missed in office hours, a student perspective might lead to a discussion about studying habits, or what other elements of student’s life might be impacting their learning. Understanding what a student’s life is like will help me make a student’s education more valuable to them.

Working in Student Affairs has done another thing for me that is also important: it has opened my eyes to the number of things that are happening outside of academic departments. Even more important, it has become clear to me that these are not things that are happening separate of academia, they are happening along side it, and would be better if they were working with academia. Additionally, they offer things for our students that would make academic departments and classes work better. And when these collaborations do happen, it will be a great benefit for the partnership when I’m able to utilize a student-first perspective, in addition to an anthropology-first perspective (and for the student affairs side to do the same). Being able to make connections between academic and student affairs programming will help me a great deal in these situations.

Certainly, these are not the only things that I have learned from this experience, but I think they are the most important. There are plenty of other ways for faculty members to gain this perspective. What are some other important cross-over skills that you think I may have benefited from? On the flip side, do you think Student Affairs may have benefited from my perspective as a researcher? As an anthropologist?

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It just so happens that my post last week about understanding campus culture actually has some relevance to recent happenings at Michigan State University. As you all should know, our country has hit some troubled times in the past year, and our beloved Michigan…well, we’ve been recessing and depressing for about a decade now. This past month, however, some very large budget cuts came down the pipe for MSU, and, since you can only raise tuition so much, campus wide program cuts are going to be made. A series of letters have been posted on the new website shapingthefuture.msu.edu, alerting all departments, both academic and student affairs, that cuts were coming.

The letter to Student Services was the most interesting, and, I think, the most relevant to my earlier discussion about campus culture. This letter laid it on the line, stating that many programs would be cut and that a dramatic reorganization of how student services were carried out would be needed. In the letter, Provost Wilcox states that programming must be “closer to home”. This is a reference to the attempts made by MSU to replicate a “neighborhood” style of residence. Wilcox is stating that certain parts of campus have adapted to the movement towards residential college styles, and the rest of Student Services will need to follow suit in order to maintain relevance.

This letter, in essence, is stating, “we are looking for programs that will fit within the culture of MSU.” The culture is one which replicates a residential, small college feel through neighborhoods (a model adapted from the original campus plan in 1855) with the resources of a Global, Research I institution. This is where MSU is trying to go. It is, as shouldn’t be a surprise, a Bold plan. And these letters are calling for bold action: learn from the past, streamline, create new programming that fits this message, and cut out what doesn’t fit. Wilcox is challenging the relevance of these services as they currently stand to the future of the University.

It is at this point that understanding you campus culture is so important. Not only are you dealing with whether or not your program is reaching students or simply connecting with the functions of the rest of your university, but now the issue is whether or not your program will even exist. If your research, or your services, or your teaching doesn’t reflect the culture and mission of the university, then why should the university continue to spend money on you? It is an issue that faces every member of academia at this moment.

Is your work relevant?

ps – I should note that I am not suggesting that certain programs are not relevant at all. I am simply arguing that relevance itself is relative to your school’s culture. For example, Campus Archaeology is relevant to the world of archaeology and cultural resource management: we make sure that the resources are mitigated properly. However, that does not give us relevancy to MSU; that emerges from our emphasis on education, public outreach, research, and interdepartmental interaction.

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I remember when I first came to MSU after receiving a degree from Kalamazoo College. I went to a professor’s office hour, and seemed surprised to see me – students didn’t come to his office hours; he tended to use that time to get extra work done. At K-College, it had been instilled since our first class, when it was required, that visiting office hours was what college students did. It was at this moment that I realized that different Universities had different cultures. It wasn’t until later that I discovered that these cultures could be manipulated and changed by those who worked at the institutions.

Since then, with my work at Campus Archaeology and Student Life, I have come to believe that College is a Culture Factory. Every element of a university should reinforce the type of student and culture they want to reflect; otherwise, the reputation of that university will revolve around something worse (i.e. party school). I have seen this happen very effectively on small campuses such as my alma mater, Kalamazoo College. It seems to be more difficult at large institutions such as my current one, Michigan State University. Either way, understanding how culture is formed, and that, as educators, we have a role in perpetuating that culture is critically important when working in higher education.

My work with Campus Archaeology has had a lot to do with the way in which space dictates or emphasizes a certain type of culture. I have noticed it both through my research onto the old designs of MSU’s campus, and also by sitting through the planning meetings for new buildings. I have also noticed a struggle with this in my work with the Department of Student Life, which has difficulty attempting to gage how they can emphasize the MSU “culture” to such a large student population. Making sure your department is working to encourage the message and culture of the university will help your department gain credibility not only with administrators, but it will lend weight to your interactions with students.

Since Colleges across the country have just finished their orientation week for incoming students, let’s consider the implications of such an experience on the culture of your campus. At Kalamazoo College, we had a variety of different activities that were all focused on what type of student we were going to become. Our convocation mimicked graduation, showing us at the beginning what the end of our four years would be like. It set the goals. We had a week where we were required to attend certain talks, seminars, and activities that gave us an idea as to what opportunities were available and what types of conversations and topics we would discuss in and out of class. We met current students who had just returned from Study Abroad. Most amazing to me was the Summer Common Reading program, which brought the author of the book to campus to speak, give a reading, and take part in small group discussions and Q and A sessions. We learned what a K-College student looks like, acts like, and takes seriously.

MSU itself has a difficulty with this process. Since it is so large, both in population and space, it has been difficult to create a cohesiveness that centers around academic or social expectations. Additionally, since it has gone through such unprecedented expansion since its humble Land Grant roots in 1855 (when it was a very small school that only focused on Agriculture), nailing down a specific MSU tradition or set of values has been difficult. The space reflects this: originally, campus was built to emphasize a small, rural town to encourage the production of students who would return to the fields to revolutionize agriculture. Since then, campus has been reacting to large explosions in campus population (i.e. GI Bill) instead of focusing more on how to maintain a certain cultural system. What has resulted is, unfortunately, a campus culture that is defined by a reputation for partying, football, and basketball.

Recently, however, there has been an active move to reintegrate a culture of the original Land Grant College. This is due largely to new leadership in President Simon. This has meant returning to a small school model by developing residential colleges. Ask any Faculty member the difference between a James Madison Residential College student and a “regular” undergraduate, and they won’t stop glowing about how disciplined and academically rigorous the Madison student is. This has everything to do with the type of culture that James Madison perpetuates and encourages. Not only students are encouraged to take part; the Land Grant model is being perpetuated through the Boldness by Design initiative, which encourages bold research initiatives. This recognizes that the earliest moments of MSU were a bold and revolutionary beginning: Land Grant Colleges were designed specifically to revolutionize agriculture. No small task. Most definitely a bold statement.

This may not be entirely surprising to many people who work on college campuses, but I think it is something that is important to understand if you do: If you work on campus you are in the business of producing culture. The work that you do on campus reflects on the type of student that is produced from your university, which therein reflects the reputation of your university, which reflects the type of professional you are. By tying what you do in your classrooms, student activities, or res halls, to the mission and values of your University, you further emphasize and reflect the message of the University. You make yourself and your class/event/activity more relevant, showing why what you do is important to their overall education as a member of your institution. It resonates more clearly with the students as to why they should be learning it. And in the end, it will reflect better on the type of professional that you are, and the type of impact you can have.

What are your thoughts on campus culture? Does incorporating the university message into your programming and classes have an effect? Is it a waste of time? Any examples?

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For the past couple of years, I have been positioning myself for a run at becoming a professor of anthropology or archaeology. I am working hard to expand my network by attending conferences and setting up meetings with faculty, I am working to gain valuable experience in different areas of academia through Campus Archaeology and Student Life, I am familiarizing myself with different elements of academia through things such as the SpartanTweetUp, barraging my poor advisors and mentors with questions about how academia “works”, and reading the Chronicle of Higher Education religiously. I am planning on teaching in the spring, and I am working on one article for publication, and have a couple others to begin work on in the next year. I am also trying out some new things with archaeology through digital social media – hopefully something that might make me “unique”.

All of this is well and good, but this focus on one goal made a question posed to me the other day catch me off guard: what if it doesn’t work out?

Obviously, this is a good possibility. The academic job market will be in an interesting position when I (should be) finishing up my PhD. With the baby boomers on their way out, and higher education facing budget cut backs, it is likely that many of those lines will disappear, instead of being refilled. Coupled with an enormous number of PhD students (again, recession influenced…no job? go to grad school!) coming out of school, the odds don’t look good.

So, I am faced with an important question to answer. At the time, I didn’t have much. I tend to follow a mantra of “if I work hard enough, know the right people, and position myself appropriately, thing will work out”. This has worked very well for me thus far. But that luck is bound to run out at some point.

After some thought, it occurred to me that there are other avenues that I can take. Ideally, I would still like to be at a University. I am not adverse to administrative work; in fact I kind of enjoy the strategy that is required to do it. So working on the administrative end, possibly in something related to outreach or community engagement, would be a consideration I would thoroughly enjoy.

I would also be interested in working in the Museum sector. My experience at Historic St. Mary’s City has provided a unique glimpse into the work that can be done at a museum, and I have a lot of ideas about how some of that work could be greatly improved. Again, a large part of this has to do with community engagement.

I would not be adverse to working in Cultural Resource Management or Government. Working in CRM can be tough: long stretches on the road, in hotels, and in the field have their appeal, but they can also take their tole. Also, the opportunities for public outreach and education are limited, or take a back seat, whereas in academic settings they are more encouraged.

Certainly, these are all things I would consider pursuing, and I could certainly see myself working in these contexts. I have placed working at a University or College at the top of my list for a variety of reasons: I enjoy the communities. The settings are unique, with many different kinds of people, who are interested in different things. I enjoy a place where personal and communal development, learning, and creativity are top priority, and where the objective is furthering knowledge and understanding about our world. How could you not want to be a part of that?

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Since I dedicated our many car rides this weekend (three three hour ones, to a wedding, to th Eastern Shore with my extended family, and then back home) to finishing a book, I thought I would give a little shout out toRichard Russo’s fine piece of work. Straight Man (1997), was my third Russo book, theEmpire Falls (2002) and The Risk Pool (1994). All three manage to capture stories about men reaching turning points in their lives, and provide incredible insightful glances into the way in which these men cope with the pressures of family, profession, money, and women.

In Straight Man, Russo follows Hank Devereaux, the interim head of an English Department, child of a legendary literary critic, and general smart-ass, who never takes anything seriously, much to the detriment of everyone around him. Through the novel, you follow his quick downward spiral into general academic mayhem, including the threatening of all-out firings of professors, the murder of a goose, liasons with local new reporters, an unfortunate urinary issue, among other things. Russo manages to tie this altogether so that it makes sense, and, most importantly, is hilarious.

My favorite part of the book is its portrayal of the academic department: each character is a charicature of a certain type of academic. For example, there is the smart ass, the pansy, the cranky guy who doesn’t get what he wants, the seductrist, the former seductrist, and, my personal favorite, the overly-sensitive liberal man. As in, he suggested that because he was a white male, he shouldn’t be given tenure because his spot should really be given to a woman or person of color (this was soon recanted, as can be understood). he also made a motion during a faculty meeting, (one in which Hank, or main character, was listening in on from above, in the cieling, after having wet his pants while napping in his office) that everyone should try to like each other more.

All in all, an eventful, funny, enjoyable book. One that tends to pick on itself, or its profession, a little bit. There is some sort of criticism going on where a book ridicules departments that would study the writing of it (does that make sense?). The department comes across as pretty deficient, the college poorly off. Hank, a writer of only one fiction book (entitled Off the Road), teaches writing to a bunch of students who don’t grasp his teachings, while it is his secretary who ends up landing a book deal by the end of the book. There is something to be said about a department of English who’s only member that gets published is the woman answering the phones. It is also hinted at in the final scene, where a room full of male professors manage to trap themselves in a small room, filling the room so much that they cannot open the door, which swings in. Finally, they all laugh, recognizing the obsurdity of the situation. Finally, they decided to not take themselves too seriously.

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