A Single Mission—For Everyone on Campus
After learning of our findings, from a ten-year study of higher education, described in in our recent book, The Real World of College, we often heard a refrain. We were asked about patterns and trends of individuals representing traditional demographic differences (e.g., race and ethnicity, socio economic status, first generation students, sexual orientation, etc.). In our research, we did not intentionally collect data about these differences, nor did we analyze the data by these differences. We explain our rationale in a blog called Our Approach to the Study of American Colleges and Universities: Considerations of Demography.
In addition to the practical and philosophical reasons for our research decision, it is important to directly address an issue that is vital for us. Prioritizing differences among individuals may actually work against and undermine our central recommendation: colleges (both independent and within universities) need to be singularly focused on the broad intellectual development of all students.
As argued at length in our book, we believe that American colleges and universities need to focus on the development of what we call Higher Education Capital—the ability to attend, analyze, reflect, connect, and communicate on issues that are timely and important. This mission should not be divided or splintered for different students! All students need to be “onboarded” with the important mission of development and expansion of the mind; and that mission should be foregrounded and exemplified throughout their course work. To the extent possible, support systems should be made available to all students. If we had analyzed findings by demographic data, and had reported the differences, we would be, in effect, signaling or encouraging institutions to implement “a slew of silos.” We would be recommending different approaches in education for different groups.
As a result of five years spent in the study of ten disparate campuses, we warn the sector of a condition we call “projectitis”—the endless proliferation of new initiatives, efforts, and centers on campus. Some of these programs are based on intellectual interests, some are focused on extra-curricular interests (including athletics and the arts), others are created for particular demographic groups. Some of these centers are created by a single individual—a faculty member or a student—(from the “bottom up”) while others are developed with funds in-hand from a donor or a group of donors (from the top-down). While some centers are created in perpetuity, others may not last long, if there is limited interest or resources for it on campus. Furthermore, some programs may be voluntary (students participate if they chose), and others may be “assigned” (certain orientation programs for certain types of students, such as those who are first generation or students of color).
While many of these programs and entities are created to help students with important issues like belonging or alienation, political differences, leadership, or even climate change—students become confused and disillusioned by the numerous options. Students often feel as if they need to participate in all of them (rather than pick and choose) in order to build a perfect resume. Indeed, we recommend that colleges and universities carefully and cautiously intertwine any secondary mission into the academic program.
That said, we acknowledge that, for planning and support purposes, data about particular groups of individuals and “subgroups” can be important for individuals and institutions. Therefore, if students want and need affinity groups or study groups on campus—during orientation and throughout the course of their college experience—we are not opposed to their creation. And if academic counselors or academic advisers find that certain tacks work well with students who themselves have brought up a demographic feature, that’s fine too. But we don’t want anyone simply to assume that because a student is a first-generation college student, or Hispanic, or gay, that students need to take certain courses or join certain clubs or pursue certain careers. Even when well meant, demographically-directed programs can undermine democratic society.
Case in point: Nigerian writer Chimamanda Adichie speaks to these concerns in “The Danger of a Single Story.” Adichie shares personal examples of how individuals—including herself—easily latch on to assumptions about others because of generalizations perpetuated in the media and in literature. She reflects about her own college roommate (in the US), “What struck me was this: She had felt sorry for me even before she saw me. Her default position toward me, as an African, was a kind of patronizing, well-meaning pity. My roommate had a single story of Africa: a single story of catastrophe. In this single story, there was no possibility of Africans being similar to her in any way, no possibility of feelings more complex than pity, no possibility of a connection as human equals.”
If Adichie had been asked to identify her student status before beginning school in her first year, she probably would have had to indicate that she was as a first-generation college student from Africa, thus perhaps placing her in an orientation group with other international students or other first-generation students. But what if Adichie wanted to get to know other students on campus, and not be in a special silo from her very first day?
In our book, we highlight the comment of one student who remarks of these kinds of silos—how they can be misinterpreted, and can also send the wrong message to other students:
I guess I’m just going to say like the Black students, we feel that some people here don’t really fully understand what it means to be like a person of color in general, like everything that you have to go through . . . And definitely, there are people here who understand. But yeah, it’s just like sometimes you feel like you don’t really fit in. And honestly, sometimes, there’s like a Black student union lounge, and that’s kind of a . . . people will find that upsetting because they . . . well, it is kind of exclusive, but I guess we kind of have to explain that people of color need a space to just to air out their feelings and stuff . . . It’s not exclusive at all. But if there’s just like a kind of stigma towards the lounge that people like, “No, it’s only for Black people!” We’re like, “No, anybody can come.”
In this context, while it is important for some research studies to collect, analyze, and report findings according to demographic information, we did not feel that this was appropriate—or authentic—to the kind of qualitative research we wanted to carry out. Indeed, as described in our first blog, we sought to create a comfortable environment in which participants could trust us with their honest perspectives about what was most important to them (not what seemed most important to us). As a result, across 2000 interviews, while a majority of participants discussed social issues on campus—including tension between and among groups of students—rarely, if ever, did individuals suggest—or express a need for—more groupings and silos on campus. In fact, we heard just the opposite: students want to learn to talk with one another across differences, and faculty also acknowledge that students need more experience discussing difficult topics with those whom have different perspectives. Ironically, this agreement among students and faculty—the importance of exposing students to those of different backgrounds, interests, and demographics—is one of the few “alignments” between these groups across our whole study!
© Wendy Fischman and Howard Gardner 2022