Colleges and universities are in the rnidst of profound change. There is a sense of rapid acceleration toward an uncertain future. Some observers think many institutions as physical plants will disappear.
The likely prospect is that higher education institutions will be educating larger numbers of students (many nontraditional), frequently at home or in the work place, using new technology and placing greater reliance upon internships, cooperative learning, and student collaboration. Courses will be shorter (some lasting a few days or weeks), and calibrated to the needs and interests of individual students. Education for larger numbers of younger people may become more vocational, taught by practitioners, while education for older people will focus more on the liberal arts. Over time, when students appear on campus more of them will be older (and wiser) than many student affairs professionals and faculty members. Also, when reference is made to "campuses," more students will think first of community colleges.
Many of these changes are welcome. They will reduce the self-perpetuating, bureaucratic priorities of large universities and help larger numbers of students achieve what they say they want from a college education: a good job.
Other changes may contribute to a harmful process in which more Americans lead lives of isolation, disconnected from any effort to gain a broader understanding of the world, with a diminished sense of social trust and social commitment.
Although a change in orientation will be required, it remains within the power of colleges and universities to reduce the growing sense of fragmentation and alienation among our students and in American life. This objective may prove even more important than the contributions universities provided to national security during the cold war. Much depends, however, on how we define our relationship with students.
Society will be better served if we draw upon our historical foundations,
and see our relationship with students as a revitalized form of
voluntary associalion - dedicated to fostering the intellectual
and moral development of association members, and the good of
the larger community.
A Historical Perspective
In his book, College: The Undergraduate Experience in America, Ernest Boyer (1987) wrote that what he and his colleagues "found particularly disturbing" was "the ambivalence college administrators feel about their overall responsibility for student behavior" (p. 203). Such ambivalence has recent causes but it may also reflect the multiple ways college administrators have understood their relationship with students.
There is one early tradition, among some of the great European
universities, in which the relationship between students and "administrators"
(professors, in the early days) was defined by the students. In
his book, The Rise of Universities, Charles Homer Haskins
(1957) told the story of how "hundreds of students"
being "far from home and undefended united for mutual protection,"
thereby constituting "the beginning of the university"
at Bologna (p.8). Haskins believes this association of students
was modeled on the guilds common in Europe at the time, and that
"the word university means originally such a group or corporation
in general," not simply guilds of students and teachers.
Whatever the derivation of the term, the students in the "university"
at Bologna, according to Haskins, exercised great authority:
The professor was put under bond to live up to a minute set of regulations which guaranteed his students the worth of the money paid by each. We read in the earliest statutes (1 317) that a professor might not be absent without leave, even for a single day, and if he desired to leave town he had to make a deposit to ensure his return. If he failed to secure an audience of five for a regular lecture, he was fined as if absent (p.10).
Not every early university followed this model. Some, especially in France and England, were led by masters or monks accountable to the church. Students had little responsibility for governance, sometimes living in "colleges" under harsh discipline. This was the kind of university transported to America, and it endured without significant competition until the German ideal of scholarly work and research (usually in graduate and professional schools) took hold.
in loco parentis has been the dominant theory defining
the relationship between students and colleges in America,
at least until the 1950s and 1960s. It was compounded by the rural
setting of many American institutions and the need to provide
supervision for young students far from home. The authority exercised
could be pervasive, as seen in an example from Ollinger Crenshaw's
(1969) history of Washington and Lee University:
A student could not call his fellows by nlcknames.
. . or presume to play ball in Lexington at any time"...
He was not permitted to "play cards, dice, or any unlawful
game," to visit a tavern "at unreasonable hours,"
to "engage at any dancing school".. . or in "any
debauching revel whatever (commonly known by the names of frolicks
Dances Balls Entertainments)." When the rector or tutor entered
a room every student was required to "rise up with a decent
bow" (p. t8).
Perhaps out of exhaustion from efforts to manage student social
life, or an overriding commitment to scholarship and research,
or a desire (harkening back to Bologna) to give students more
authority to govern themselves, there has also been a tradition
in some American colleges of exercising authority through appeals
to honor rather than detailed disciplinary codes. This approach,
still alive today, was endorsed by President Nott of Union College
in 1854:
Little reliance has been placed on appeals to the
principle of fear. Emulation has been appealed to . . . Moral
and religious instruction, the sense of honor, and the love of
knowledge have been principally relied on, whilst the chief concern
has been to leach the young men to bring themselves under the
inward principle rather than of outward fear and restraint (cited
in Rudolph, 1962, pp.107-08).
In loco parentis, especially the variety exercised by detailed regulation of student life, has now been discredited in theory and, to a lesser extent, in practice. The transformation occurred over four decades, and probably started with the enrollment of GIs after World War 11. It was advanced by the civil rights movement, the campus rebellions of the 1960s, the growth of Clark Kerr's (1995) "multiversity," the lowering of the age of majority, the expansion of adult education programs, and, until recently, a distrust of any assertion of general moral standards. All helped to give students procedural rights and a degree of personal autonomy previous generations had never known.
The momentum for greater student rights was accelerated in the
late 1970s and 1980s by the consumer protection movement. Students
began to see themselves as "customers" seeking "services"
- a view reenforced by federal and state legislation protecting
student privacy and requiring that "consumer information"
about financial aid, campus security, and other services be made
available to applicants for admission.
Risk Management or Student Development?
Ironically, the view of students as "consumers" has started a process in which the expanded notion of student rights is being circumscribed. Concerns about campus safety and security have prompted some colleges to try to set stricter standards for student conduct or to disassociate themselves from student activities (especially fraternities) altogether. What confuses and troubles student affairs administrators, as other commentators have suggested, is the fact that these trends are driven largely by risk management theories, not any effort to promote student development.
Many student affairs administrators remain convinced that most traditional-aged students are caught in a "middle" stage of development, somewhere between adolescence and full adulthood.
This perspective is shared by prominent author and psychiatrist
Willard Gaylin (1989), who voiced it at the close of a Synthesis
interview:
Our society is creating dependent children welt into
their twenties, if not their thirties. Yet more and more we're
treating them as though they are autonomous adults. We are taking
children and throwing them into a particularly cold and detached
environment at major universities . . . There is, I think, an
extraordinary avoidance of the fact that you're dealing with essentially
a not-yet fully-mature population. Universities need to come to
grips with the fact that in this autonomous time, paternalism
may be unattractive, but necessary (p.53).
Willard Gaylin's advice probably will not be followed if it is
seen as a call for a return to in loco parentis. Likewise,
the type of control he advocates - grounded in an environment
committed to the intellectual and moral development of students
- does not fit the "risk management" mentality. College
administrators who share his views, and who also seek to promote
a view of college as a principled community serving students of
all ages, need another model. Fortunately, one is readily available,
so much a part of the general social background that it frequently
goes unrecognized: the concept of voluntary association. This
is a model that can enable us to foster a sense of community among
students of different ages and backgrounds, working on or off
campus.
What Voluntary Association Means
In strict legal terms, colleges and universities are corporations. However, for many academics, the word corporation has a hollow ring, suggestive more of legal powers and responsibilities than human relationships. A better description of what most colleges aspire to create (even those within multiversities) is a community, sharing at least some essential values and commitments. At heart, this community is contractual, a voluntary association of individuals "presumed to be equally interested in promoting the welfare of the association" (Associations, 1963, p.446). Examples of voluntary associations include state or national medical societies and groups such ais the League of Women Voters and the National Urban League.
Many worry that the American capacity for association is declining.
Still, Americans are more likely than people
in most cultures to join associations, a trait rooted
deep in our history, noted by Alexis De Tocqueville (1956)
in his Democracy in America:
Americans of all ages, all conditions, and all dispositions
constantly form associations. They have not only commercial and
manufacturing companies, in which all take part. But associations
of a thousand other kinds religious. moral, serious, futile, general,
or restricted, enormous or diminutive. The Americans make associations
. . . to found seminaries, to build inns, to construct churches,
to diffuse books, to send missionaries to the Antipodes . . If
it be proposed to inculcate some truth or to foster some feeling
by the encouragement of a great example, they form a society.
Whenever, at the head of some new undertaking, you see the government
in France, or a man of rank in England, in the United States you
will be sure to find an association (p.198).
Unlike the early guilds of students and professors, the American association is typically outward looking. Many exist for reasons that go beyond protecting a particular class or occupation. Some (for example, the Boy and Girl Scouts) start with the goal of helping individual members but link that goal to a broader social commitment. While membership in an association is voluntary, members normally have duties or responsibilities, specified in rules or bylaws, and enforced through a disciplinary process. The fact that an association sets professional or ethical standards does not make it vicariously liable when members (not acting as agents of the association) violate them.
It is easy to think of colleges as voluntary associations because, in the narrow sense of guilds, that is how some of the most ancient colleges were established. There are also many modern examples, including a recent example from the school setting: the relationship between the well-known math teacher Jaime Escalante and his students, depicted in the film, "Stand and Deliver."
Many observers would not see Escalante and his students as an "association" at all. Still, on a small scale, they show how the concept of voluntary association can fit in an educational setting, even when students are not accustomed to having academic demands placed on them.
Those who saw the film, "Stand and Deliver" will recall that Escalante appeared to b~ remarkably successful in improving both the math skills and personal deportment of a group of disadvantaged high school students. He did so by setting high expectations for the students and working tirelessly with them to improve their skills and attitudes. At the heart of Escalante's approach was a contract - a commitment by each student to do all the extra work required (including Saturday review sessions) to meet a shared performance goal. Also implicit in the effort was a broader social commitment: the desire to demonstrate to other students in similar circumstances that academic success was possible and desirable.
On a larger scale, with minor variations, the personal and social
goals reflected in the "association" of Escalante and
his students are precisely what the best American colleges try
to accomplish with college students of all ages and backgrounds.
Those goals also demonstrate the kinds of relationships and social
commitments the larger society urgently needs.
Why Voluntary Association is Important
There is a clear sense in American society that the social fabric has weakened. People seem to distrust each other more and cooperate less, at least in voluntary efforts outside the work place.
Robert Putnam, Dillon Professor of International Affairs at Harvard University and author of the famous "Bowling Alone" article in the January 1995 issue of The Journal of Democracy, believes a major factor in the loss of trust and community has been television. Putnam (1995) told the Washington Post that he found "a negative correlation between the number of hours an individual watches television and both the number of groups the individual joins and the level of social trust" (p. AS).
The role of television in weakening community has ominous implications as another wave of communications technology approaches. College administrators, for example, already report cases of "Internet addiction" involving students who are fascinated by communicating with others at a distance, but unable or unwilling to join in the life of the "real" community in which they live.
The general sense of deterioration in community and social trust, driven-in part by the images of violence and turmoil on television, seems to have influenced an entire generation of young adults. While assessments differ, most observers conclude that many young Americans are caught in a "tyranny of self." Peter Zollo, a researcher in Northbrook, Illinois, surveyed the attitudes of 2,000 young people aged 12 to 19 in 1993 and found that nearly 70 percent of the respondents agreed with the statement: "I always try to have as much fun as I possibly can. I don't know what the future holds." Zollo (1994) told American Demographics magazine that the current cohort of American teenagers should be described as a "cynical" generation, whose "natural reaction to the stress around them is to have as much fun as they can, because future life may be real tough" (p.10).
A cynical generation of students will view their education primarily
as a means to gain competitive advantage in an uncertain economy
- a conclusion supported by a series of national surveys on why
students go to college. The candid views some students express
in this regard can be startling, as reflected in an interview
the author conducted with a University of Maryland student being
expelled for academic dishonesty:
Q Is [engaging in cheating] fair to [honest] students?
A: I don't think of it like that. I know some students do.
But the attitude is generally this is the way it
is. When they work, a lot of these kids, either their fathers
work in business, whatever they do, they get a shortcut: the other
guy doesn't. That's the way I look at it. If I'm sharp enough
to know the right people to get what I need, and he's not, then
that's the point of the whole thing.
Educators are sometimes troubled by the fact that only a minority of students report that one of their important objectives is "developing a meaningful philosophy of life." Students are seen as confused and aimless, without a philosophical perspective. The truth may be different, and worse. Many students do have a philosophy of life: it is called social Darwinism.
There are serious long-term consequences for any society where large numbers of people see themselves primarily as isolated individuals competing for survival.
First, as James Q. Wilson (1993) wrote in his book The Moral Sense, it is in association with others (initially in families, clans, and races but expanding outward to the entire human family as we mature) that we learn to develop the capacity for empathy, a sense of duty, and fair dealing. Association with others enables us to develop a conscience and a moral sense - qualities that seem to distinguish us from other animals. Relationship is so fundamental that some philosophers and theologians, Martin Buber as an example, see it as our primary connection with an ultimate meaning.
Second, trust is the social glue that makes any large, complex society work. Every moment of our lives depends upon the reciprocal obligations of people unseen to us - from the grocer who sold us our food, the architect who designed our house, or the researcher who gave us new information. It is doubtful we could live, with sanity, if we thought we lived in a world where no one could be trusted.
Finally, association, relationship, and trust are essential to
the highest forms of happiness. An article in the January 1995
issue of Psychological Science contains an analysis of
studies about what makes human beings happy (Myers & Diener,
p.10). The authors confirm what most of our mothers told us at
an early age: happiness does not depend upon acquiring more posessions,
once we have life's necessities. Ultimately, what gives us the
greatest happiness are active involvement in productive work,
a belief that life has meaning and purpose, and satisfying relationships
with others.
What "Principles of Association" Should Colleges
Affirm?
It paints too negative an image to suggest that young people are universally disinterested in connection and social trust. Surveys show a genuine interest in improving race relations, protecting the environment, and engaging in community service. Many young people are, as other observers have suggested, "cynical idealists" willing to make serious commitments to causes beyond themselves, if given proper encouragement and leadership.
Likewise, there is evidence older adults are concerned about the deterioration in community. Many can see a future described by Charles Handy (1994) who wrote in his book, The Age of Pa radox, that "loneliness may be the real disease of the next century, as we live alone, work alone, and play alone, insulated by our modem, or walkman, or our television" (p.259). They too are looking for leadership, and sometimes find it in religious institutions, the communitarian movement, or in literal recreations of rural villages like the Florida "Seaside" development.
Leadership in affirming the importance of community also needs
to come from colleges. Offering that leadership requires defining
our guiding principles. Three principles seem predominant:
Those who associate in the college community are committed to the pursuit of truth. The "truth" pursued may be large or small or, ideally, a combination of both. The questions asked might include whether there is a broader meaning in life; how a "good life" should be defined; what obligations individuals have to the larger society (as well as past and future generations); how people can better understand the feelings and emotions of others; and what knowledge, technical skills, interests, and habits must be acquired to do productive and satisfying work.
When we talk about the "pursuit of truth," emphasis must be given to the word pursuit. Bitter experience has shown that even the most cherished truths have to be seen as hypotheses; although we still have to act and rely on them. The contrary perspective, that all essential truths are known, produces intellectual stagnation and a tendency to demonize those who disagree.
It is equally harmful, however, to assume no truth exists, or is entirely relative, depending on who has the power to define it. The view associated with National Socialist propagandists that "truth is what serves the German people" typifies the nihilism that led to the Holocaust. Similar opinions are routinely expressed as accepted wisdom by some intellectuals in the late 20th century, including many on American college campuses.
A better and wiser way of understanding the pursuit of truth was explained by British historian W.H. Walsh (1960), describing the writing of history. Historians, he said, see "truth" through the lens of time, culture, and ideology, akin to Thomas Kuhn's "paradigms" in the sciences. They should be compared to portrait painters, trying to capture the essence of an image. Each "portrait" by each historian will capture an aspect ot the truth, so long as the historian is not deliberately deceitful or lacking in professional competency. Looking at all the portraits gives us an enhanced understanding of reality. In many ways this example highlights what we mean by "diversity" on campus. A respect for diversity does not mean that all truth is relative; it means trying to see what we can of a universal truth with greater richness and color.
The likelihood that we can capture an aspect of truth,
however dimly, comports with common sense and
Kuhn's seminal work, properly understood. Even as we move
from paradigm to paradigm, our methods of inquiry are refined
and our limitations better appreciated. It also appears we do
learn a few things over time, reaching a general consensus, for
example, that the universe does not rest on the back of a very
large turtle.5
The pursuit of truth is guided by a process. The habits
and discipline associated with the scientific method are the best
way we know to discover truth. Some worry that the scientific
method precludes the use of intuition, but that reflects
a misunderstanding of the avenues available
to forming a hypothesis. As Einstein and other scientists have
demonstrated, the process by which a hypothesis is formed is usually
intuitive and often associated with a sense of beauty. At
heart, following the scientific method means engaging in self-examination,
honestly sharing information with others, and welcoming constructive
criticism.
The nature of our goal, and the process we use to pursue it,
are molded by a permanent duty: to honor those who preceded us
and to leave a better world to those who will follow. In
this sense, the voluntary association we create in college
is simply a microcosm of the grandest association of all: the
succession of human generations. No one said this better than
John Dewey (1934) in his book, A Common Faith:
The ideal ends to which we attach our faith are not
shadowy and wavering. They assume concrete form in our understanding
of our relations to one another and the values contained in those
relations. We who now live are parts of a humanity that extends
into the remote past, a humanity that has interacted with nature.
The things in civilization we most prize are not of ourselves.
They exist by grace of the doings and sufferings of the continuous
human community in which we are a link. Ours is the responsibility
of conserving, transmitting, rectifying, and expanding the heritage
of values we have received that those who come after us may receive
it more solid and secure, more widely accessible and more generously
shared than we have received it (p.57).
Adhering to Our Principles: What Virtues are Required?
Principles affirmed in theory have to be applied in practice.
Doing so requires certain virtues and qualities of character.
Those that seem especially important in the college setting are:
Honesty. It follows naturally that our goal of pursuing
truth requires honesty. Willfully deceiving ourselves or others
defeats the objective of trying to gain a better understanding
of the world and our role in it.
Respect and civility. Fully developed human beings are
truth seekers, guided by reason and conscience, equipped with
the capacity for communicating complex ideas in the
present and over time through the creation of culture.
No other animal has a similar stature. However we came to be,
and for all our imperfections, we are miraculous creatures and
we owe each other respect and civility.
Self-restraint. Plato and Aristotle had some profound disagreements,
but they shared the view that the foundation of ethics is self-restraint.
Self-restraint is especially important to
the academic enterprise; we have to have the mental discipline
to examine our own ideas, reject them if they do not work, and
start again with a new or refined hypothesis. This process can
be a sharp blow to the ego and intensely painful. But those who
persevere display the greatest integrity and become some of our
grandest heroes.
Empathy and compassion. Reflecting upon the
succession of generations, as described by John Dewey,
should enhance an appreciation of the struggles and suffering
of others. Doing so will also help us remember our capacity for
error and the complex realities of human nature - nicely summarized
by Martin Luther King, Jr.'s observation that "each of us
has two selves, and the great burden in life is to keep the higher
self in command" (cited in Frady, 1983). If moral perfectionism
is our goal, we will inflict needless pain on others and make
hypocrites of ourselves. The best we can expect - given the fact
we live on Earth, not in Heaven - is a determined effort to follow
the highest commands of reason and conscience.
A sense of responsibility. Our object, as social animals,
goes beyond simply trying to enhance our own personal and moral
development. Recognizing a succession of generations means honoring
those who preceded us by actively working to make a better world.
Even young children understand this concept, as expressed by Antoine
de St. Exupery (1942), when he wrote in Flight to Arras how
the death of a younger brother revealed to him the "essence"
of our humanity:
He was very serious, this younger brother who was
to die in twenty minutes. He had called me in because he felt
a pressing need to hand on part of himself to me. ~ want to make
my will," he said; and he blushed with pride and embarrassment
to be talking like a grown man. Had he been a builder of towers
he would have bequeathed to me the finishing of his tower. Had
he been a father, I would have inherited the education of his
children. . . But he was a child, and what he confided to my care
was a toy steam engine, a bicycle, and a rifle.
When the body sinks into death the essence of man
is revealed. Man is a knot, a web, a mesh into which relationships
are tied. Only those relationships matter. The body is an old
crock that nobody will miss. I have never known a man to think
of himself when dying. Never (p.389).
How Virtues Can be Taught
One of the great (recent) failings in American education has been a group-think acceptance of the assumption that it is somehow intellectually unsophisticated to try to identify and affirm the core values that make social life possible. This was a point made by Charles L. Glenn (Professor of Educational Policy at Boston University) and Joshua Glenn (a Boston inner-city middle school teacher) in a review of recent books on character education in the journal, First Things.
The Glenns (1993) report on a survey ofundergraduate students "at one of the most selective schools of education" in the United States. The students were asked to assume that they were to teach a seventh grade course in moral education and given the option of choosing between two models.
The first model focused on values clarification and urged students "to be nonjudgmental about values that differ from their own." The second model involved "a conscious effort to teach specific virtues and character traits such as . . . self-control, honesty, responsibility
[and] charity," primarily by teaching "memorable examples from history, literature and current events."
The reactions of the education majors, according to the Glenns,
would "come as no surprise to any reader with recent experience
in American schools" and colleges:
88 percent of [the] future teachers selected the
first approach, and only 9 percent. the second. Nearly half of
the ninety-four students participating said they would refuse
to use the method that involved teaching virtues and positive
character traits.
There is a remarkable discontinuity between what some future teachers say they will not teach and what a vast majority of American parents think is important. For example, a 1994 survey of over 1,100 Americans (550 of them parents of school children), done by the research group, Public Agenda Foundation (1994), found that "ninety-seven percent of both white and African-American parents say schools should teach 'honesty and the importance of telling the truth"' (p.46).
On the issue of character education, the parents are right. They
know we can not live in a world where we are dependent upon the
very virtues we refuse to affirm. Our inclination to do so brings
to mind an observation from CS. Lewis (1955) in his Abolition
of Man:
such is the tragicomedy of our situation we continue
to clamor for those very qualities we arc rendering impossible.
. . In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand
the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue
. .. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our
midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful (p.35).
Whether by their own initiative, the demands of parents, or some combination of both, attitudes of public school administrators and teachers are changing quickly. One of the fastest transitions in American education has been from "values clarification" to the movement for character education in the schools. A major impetus for the character education model is Ernest L. Boyer's (1995) book, The Basic School. Boyer's model of the "Basic School" is a community that "affirm[s] its own commitment to character," by promoting seven virtues: honesty, respect, responsibility, compassion, self-discipline, perseverance, and giving (pp.183-184).
More students who have completed character education programs will be coming to colleges. We need to build upon the foundation they have been given. Our approach should include habituation, but must expand to encourage critical examination - a process in which ethical values are refined, better understood, and adopted as one's own.
An ethical development program at the college level might include:
Clearly stating community values, including academic honesty,
civility, and respect for freedom of thought and expression. A
values statement should be contained in literature describing
the college to prospective students, and included in the application
for admission. Also, if we think of a college as a voluntary association,
we might revive the process by which students are "matriculated"
or "formally installed" into our association ideally
by some sort of ritual or signing ceremony at orientation.
Treating our statement of values as more than stale dogma.
John Stuart Mill argued that freedom of expression needed
to be protected so that our most cherished values could be questioned,
enlivened, reaffirmed, or transformed in the crucible of
debate. We should discuss our rules with students, listen to their
concerns, and make changes as needed. Various aspects of the Honor
Code at the University of Virginia, for example, are regularly
debated and voted upon by the student body. These votes and debates
have not threatened Virginia's Honor Code tradition; they have
helped to keep it alive.
Asking students ethical questions, both in and out of class.
One of the greatest failings in higher education is
the failure to discuss ethical issues, outside a few specialized
courses. There are many opportunities to pose questions that encourage
ethical thinking - for example, asking a student whether a career
she is contemplating will promote a "good" life, and
how a "good" life might be defined. Other subjects
also invite provocative inquiries, such
as whether emotional commitment should accompany sexual relationships.
Role modeling. Faculty members and administrators become
role models not by trying to display the impossible quality
of moral perfection, but by committing themselves to worthwhile
goals, engaging in community service, displaying courtesy and
empathy, and honestly admitting errors and shortcomings.
Giving students significant responsibility to manage their
own affairs. Professor Donald L. McCabe (1993) at Rutgers
University has conducted extensive research on self-reported academic
dishonesty by students. He found that significantly less cheating
occurs at honor code schools, compared to comparable schools without
honor codes. An important conclusion is inescapable: student behavior
can be influenced by the campus environment, especially
when we give students significant authority and responsibility
to influence their peers.
Encouraging the development of empathy. Ethical reasoning
does not lead inevitably to ethical action. As Samuel and Pearl
Oliner (1988) wrote in The Altruistic Personality:
Rescuers of Jews in Nazi Europe, those individuals
who risked their lives to save Jews from the Nazis were encouraged
at an early age to see "the basic universal similarity of
all people" (p. 143). With that foundation, what distinguished
the rescuers was not academic training in logic or morals, but
the habit of making "connections with others in relationships
of commitment and care," and treating "ordinary people"
with civility and courtesy (Oliner & Oliner, 1988, pp. 259-60).
These are characteristics we can foster by emphasizing the fundamental
similarity, as well as the diversity, of people; by giving students
opportunities to work together in ways in which they learn to
depend upon one another; and by encouraging simple acts of kindness.
Creating environments where personal interaction can flourish.
Stanford University President Gerhard Casper (1995) has
written that:
[T]he residential version of the American college
may have no equal . . . in challenging prejudices, and . . . in
bringing about new ways of relating to one another. Its
emphasis on socialization and peer interaction, in the eyes of
many, makes the college environment, as distinguished from the
college curriculum, a formative and formidable experience that
is valued in its own right, independently of any academic purposes.
The right of passage is one reason, anthropologically speaking,
Americans go to college. (p.25).
If we are to remain dynamic, value-added associations, we will
need to create and maintain physical environments where human
interaction can occur in the richest and fullest sense. We will
have to avoid turning our student unions, dining facilities, and
residence halls over to fast food franchises and private landlords
-remembering that our primary duty goes beyond providing "services,"
and encompasses individual and community development.
Promoting group bonding through service. Some form of bonding
is likely to occur when colleges place large numbers of people
in close proximity, especially in a society where
there is an increasing sense of loneliness and a desire
for connection. The bonding will take place either in destructive
cults or dysfunctional fraternities, or in groups or communities
dedicated to service. Colleges must help create and nurture the
latter, sometimes by challenging student associations to adhere
to their stated ideals; ideals which compliment in theory the
principles expressed in our voluntary association.
Enforcing reasonable rules. Colleges, like other voluntary
associations, need to set and enforce reasonable rules and
standards. Those rules and standards must be widely shared and
frequently discussed. When violations are proven, penalties must
be imposed, including the penalties of suspension or expulsion.
The imposition of just penalties is not an arbitrary act of cruelty.
but a necessary way to affirm shared values, as well as the autonomy
and personal responsibility of offenders. Ideally, after penalties
are imposed, most offenders are welcomed back to the community
with a sense of forgiveness.
Enforcing rules fairly. A sense of community and association
cannot last if rules are enforced in an arbitrary manner. Procedural
fairness is required more than procedural complexity. The heart
of procedural fairness is treating others the way we would want
to be treated, arid hearing cases before deciding them.
Conclusion
We ask students to join us in association, but rarely state what our associations are designed to accomplish. Beyond the broad and nebulous terms tolerance and diversity, what values do we affirm? What virtues do we encourage?
We are confused about our relationship with students because we are confused about our goals. That result is deadly, given the technological change coming upon us - a technological change threatening to transform the nature of teaching and the nature of learning.
Colleges will not stop the advance of technology; they should not try. Our enhanced capacity for electronic communication will create a hunger for richer, personal connection across the entire spectrum of the population.
We should learn to use new technology, as some are doing now, to enrich local communities; to bring people to events and activities where deeper, value-added fellowship is possible. Fostering that kind of fellowship is something student affairs people do well.
Creating value-added communities now and in the 21st century will require treating students as adults. Some will be adults in middle age or older. Others will be young adults, in one of life's most formative periods. Some will be on campus often. Others will do most of their work elsewhere, returning occasionally for a sense of place and for the warmth of personal interaction. Increasing numbers of people will decide to spend their final years of life living near colleges, and participating in college life, both as learners and as teachers. All will benefit, as American society has demonstrated repeatedly, from a commitment to associating with each other in the affirmation of shared principles and the virtues that bring those principles to life.
In this setting, and with these goals, those who are student affairs
administrators now and in the next century will not be part of
a declining profession, clinging to marginal work in electronic
universities. They will, instead, be creators, guides, mentors,
and protectors of one of the most important and cherished aspects
of American culture: the capacity for voluntary association.
© 1996, College Administration Publications, Inc.
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