Rigorously Empathetic

“As your mentor it’s my job to put my arm around your shoulders, and kick you in the tail.”

When you work at a college with a 30% 5-year graduation rate it can be hard to decide where to start improving. At my institution, a MSI/HSI R1 Access University, I think a key issue is that our admissions process is far more inclusive than our teaching process. We’re enrolling talented students, but we haven’t quite figured out how to meet them where they’re at and help them get where they want to be.

It is important to note that for most complex problems, solutions are like shoes: many look great, few actually fit.

I’m excited to pull at this thread for a while. I think this will grow into a series of posts that explore retention issues from a variety of angles. Keep an eye out. I’ll be sure to share some specific tactics I’ve tried and what I learned, but you’ll have to promise to do your homework before trying to implement them yourself. Context matters quite a bit.

For now, let’s consider a principle I adhere to: the idea of being “rigorously empathetic.” This mindset drives my decision-making in the moment when I am faced with a challenge (that’s what principles are good for). I’ve learned that being guided by rigorous empathy helps me solve a wide variety of issues in unique ways, but it also buys a tremendous amount of grace when my solution fails.

Rigor

A common concern among academics mirrors public concern surrounding many social programs: if we provide too much support our people will come to rely on it rather than learning to succeed on their own. By offering aid we risk watering-down our disciplines and push the issue downstream as we increase the number of graduates but decrease the value-adding capabilities that should accompany the degree (or so the thinking goes).

The idea behind rigorous empathy is that we do not lower our expectations. Consider how demeaning that would be anyhow – especially to a first-generation college student who is already grappling with impostor syndrome. Offering a second-rate degree perpetuates the issue if a diverse pool of graduates enters the workforce without the skills to succeed. Gross!

Thoracic Outlet Syndrome

About a year and a half ago, I looked at my left arm in horror: the entire limb was blue and my blood vessels bulged. My fingers went numb and a tingling crept from my hand to elbow to shoulder. As an upper-30-something I thought “no way I’m old enough to be having a heart attack, but then again…”

I was terrified.

I spent two days in the hospital running tests for everything from heart attack to blood clots, cancer, and being told they needed to keep me overnight in case my limb required rapid saving (or amputation). Finally, a vascular surgeon performed a “just-in-case” test as they prepped me for anesthesia to scope my blood vessels. They diagnosed my condition: thoracic outlet syndrome. Essentially, an inflamed muscle in my upper chest was pinching the entire bundle of blood vessels and nerves that run from my neck, under my collar bone, and down my arm. I began working with a physical therapist to correct the issue:

My pec minor was trying to do the job of my serratus (it doesn’t matter what either of those things is for you understand my point) because for whatever reason, I was unable to command the serratus to do its job (consciously or subconsciously). The amazing work of the PT is to help you develop function in these often-neglected foundational muscles so that their larger neighbors can do their job properly.

I learned that I had exercised myself into this dangerous condition (it can lead to clots which travel quickly to the heart and brain) by not first developing the necessary support muscles. I also learned that I’d need to exercise my way out of it. Fast-forward 18 months and I am well on my way to reaching my fitness goal of being able to do a one-armed pull-up.

Actually, I’m growing stronger at a faster pace than ever before – with far less effort! It turns out that no amount of exercise would have accomplished my goal because my arms just didn’t work right (yet). I was killing myself in the gym and getting no where. Not a lack of effort or dedication, a lack of prerequisite foundation (ahem, hint).

Rather than setting the bar lower (or offering a step stool) educators could take a page from my physical therapist’s playbook: rehab the muscles that have atrophied (or never developed). Don’t tell folks to abandon their dream of doing a one-armed pull-up and settle for something less. That’s cruelty mixed with a privileged power grab.

(Be careful with my analogy. Words like “rehab” could reinforce deficit-thinking, which isn’t the intent. Actually it provides me an opportunity to point this out and bring attention to a term my colleagues could afford to explore.)

Empathy

The educators who I see making a difference aren’t advocating for softer requirements. They’re trying to do the difficult work of identifying the foundational muscles their students need strengthened and developing the appropriate exercise program (again, be careful with deficit-thinking, and I’d be grateful if you have a suggestion for improving my analogy).

Where to Start: 2 Ears, 2 Eyes, 1 Mouth

So what’s that look like? How can we empathize while maintaining rigor? A great place to start is to do the hard work of understanding your specific students’ experience. Too often, well-intentioned problem-solvers jump into problem-solving mode before they have a clue what’s really going on. This involves a level of humility among one of the more ego-driven groups in our society (put 3 PhDs in a room and you’ll get 7 strongly-worded opinions).

Listen to your students and take them seriously when they share aspects of their experience with you. Many curmudgeons hear excuses when they could hear the stories of an entire community. Rather than pumping students for proof (“bring me the obituary”), thank them for their willingness to bring such authenticity to the student-faculty relationship. It’s scary and hard for them to do.

Lastly, remember that if you work at a school serving a large first-generation college student population (meaning they’re the first in their family to seek a degree) then you cannot take academic norms for granted. For instance,

• Your students may not know what office hours are (“go to the office” means you’re in trouble).
• Your students may not know about resources your school offers (but you should).
• Your students may not know how to read a textbook effectively (or judge the quality of an online source).
• Your students may feel that attending tutoring is a sign of weakness (honestly I see students resistant to asking for any support due to this).

Closing

Kindness and excellence aren’t opposing forces. Quite the opposite: as people on earth, we’ve been facing huge complex challenges lately. Solutions will be interdisciplinary and collaborative. I am certain that an all-hands approach is mandatory, and we’ll need the voices of many communities that aren’t currently part of the conversation.

Apologies for the length here. This occupies the space of half a dozen reasonable-length posts. That’s what you get when I’m stuck on a plane all day.

Help me improve: copy the passage that mattered most to you and paste it as a comment on this post (or as a social media post with a link if you feel this is worth sharing) and tag me so I can thank you!