Education is organized around clear beginnings and endings. We associate those beginnings with resolve and optimism. Faculty have freshly written syllabi and lofty goals for their students. Students dream of getting their habits right and succeeding in all of their courses. Administrators like me, hope that a new year will prove the success of our initiatives as we try to improve the quality of the educational experience and support those dreams of success.
But what about the endings? Though sometimes tinged with a sense of melancholy as we close our books and call it a semester, they are a welcome point of relief. After all, it is the endings that give us a moment to reflect on our successes and failures, rest, and re-group. While I sometimes consider restructuring the use of time in higher education, and potentially the use of summers in more intentional ways, I never consider losing the pauses that are our endings. They are absolutely necessary.
Then there is the biggest ending of all, graduation. Last weekend, WCSU congratulated nearly a thousand students who had reached their goals and earned their degrees. I love the commencement ceremony. Many of our students are the first in their families to attend college. Their successes are celebrated by many family members cheering them on in the arena. Others were like me, coming from several generations of college graduates, and equally proud of getting to that finish line. It is all smiles and handshakes and joy. And then, well, then what?
As an administrator, my friends often ask me what I do all summer. They are confused by the fact that I don’t have that beloved summer break that is part of the faculty life. (Don’t worry faculty colleagues, I know it isn’t all break for you.) Well, here is what I tend to get up to. I move from that arena stage at commencement to annual reports, taking stock of how we did this year. Have we made improvements in our efforts to support students on their way to that commencement stage? What can we do better next year? Where are we still falling short? The summer is my opportunity to regroup.
It is both an exhilarating and daunting task to examine and assess our efforts each year. There are many great stories in annual reports from departments and deans. I will learn about new curricula, faculty scholarship, student success in research or graduate school and I will be impressed. Then I will look to see if any of the interventions designed to improve our ability to retain and graduate students has improved our outcomes. It’s a deep dive into both qualitative and quantitative measures, as I attempt to develop a comprehensive understanding of how we are doing as a university.
But I don’t start with the reports. I usually start by reading some inspiring story of possibilities. This year that story was Saundra Yancy McGuire’s, Teach Students How to Learn. Her career as a chemistry educator and student learning center director is inspiring. The strategies she details on how to help students take control of their learning are simple and elegant. They don’t require fancy technology, just clarity and a little persuasive data. They are scalable, and if successfully leveraged, have the power to dramatically improve those pesky retention and graduation numbers. I am inspired.
And that’s how I like to read all of the reports, in a state of inspiration, optimism, and hope. We won’t have met all my goals for this year, because those goals are challenging. But we will have made some progress. I will see the little impacts and find new opportunities for improvement. I will be able to celebrate the innovations in classes and in student support services that are slowly moving us forward. I will be proud of the many small stories that add up to a great commencement ceremony. And then I will make plans to do better next year, because I will feel inspired and hopeful.
And really, that is what I am struck by every year at our commencement ceremony, the truly awesome sense of hope that is at the heart of education. From pre-school to doctorate, each time we engage in learning, we are acting on the optimistic assumption that learning will help us do better and be better. From pre-school to doctorate, each time we engage in teaching we are acting on the optimistic assumption that the understandings we discover with our students will help us support an educated person with the power to create new knowledge and navigate a complex society. From pre-school to doctorate, each time our society invests in the structures that support these educational experiences and contexts, we are acting on the optimistic assumption that access to education is the foundation of a fair and just society, where all citizens have the opportunity to thrive.
These are the expressions of hope I see each year as I shake those many hands on the arena stage. These are the feelings of hope I have as I review the year just completed in preparation for plan for an even better next year. It is the rhythm of education and it is a very good idea.