Last
month, after working just over 15 years full-time in Student Affairs
(mostly in Residence Life), I resigned my stable, standing position
at one of the best universities in America (Penn State), and moved to
Athens, GA, to go into business for myself as a Life, Career and
Transition Coach. In later posts, and on one or the other of my own blogs, I will expand
on my reasons and explain more why I did what some might think is a
pretty crazy thing, and what I hope to do with my newfound life as an
“education entrepreneur.” But for now, I would like to share some
things I learned from working in higher education over the last
generation.

The
following comments were adapted from a handout I gave out as I
delivered my “parting thoughts” to fellow staff at Penn State.
Hopefully, readers will find some wisdom, some humor, or at least
something to disagree with among the dozen items below.

1.
Like the people around you. It
makes coming to work less stressful. And by this I mean like your
peers, housing and foods workers, your RAs, student leaders, student
drama queens/kings, needy clingy types, nerds, troublemakers,
arrogant bastards, and even crazy parents. There’s something to
like about almost anybody. Look for the good. It won’t kill you.

2.
Mind your own business. And
everything isn’t your business! The more time you spend worrying
about what other people are doing, the less you are paying attention
to yourself and what you are supposed to be doing. And people do
notice. It annoys them, because you spend too much time being cranky,
instead of producing results.

3.
People don’t care what you think. They
care what you do. Do or do not. All talk
and no action doesn’t just make you a dull boy. It makes you an
a**hole. If you aren’t going to do something about the things you
want to change, then shut up already. Silence is golden.

4.
Treat people with dignity and respect.
Working in Student Affairs is about
valuing people. This includes the students, their parents, your
colleagues, your boss, the custodians, the housing manager, the
coffeehouse workers, maintenance workers, UPS guy, commons desk
workers, etc. People won’t remember you for your title. They’ll
remember how you treated them. And you can learn a lot about life,
work, ethics and purpose from just about anyone. Never put yourself
on a pedestal above other people. You may think you have the big
picture from up there, but that’s just the thin air making you
giddy and keeping you from actually thinking.

5.
Take assignments others don’t want. You
will define yourself as a team player with a good work ethic, and you
will learn something from doing the tasks. If the task is boring,
confusing or not particularly motivational, do what you can to change
that. Think between the lines of your task or committee’s
descriptions. If you are bored and unmotivated, that’s a choice you
are making, not something that others are doing to you to make you
miserable.

6.
If you don’t love students, you shouldn’t be here. Go away.
Conversely, if you do love students, that
doesn’t necessarily mean you should be here or do what you are
particularly doing, either. Loving students and being able to help
them are two very different things. To make it in Student Affairs,
you have to love them until it hurts you, and do the things that are
necessary to help them, even if that hurts a little more. If you
don’t feel like helping college students is your purpose in life, a
lot of what you have to do will eat at your soul. And nobody likes a
picked-over, half-eaten soul. Get out while you still can. You
deserve to be happy and do what you love.

7.
Assume that others have good intentions.
Most people do. They just fail in their
practices. And it’s best to assume that when they do fail, that it
had nothing to do with you. People think more about themselves than
others. It’s human nature. If you are honest with yourself, you are
that way sometimes, too. Give people a break. You know you’d want
one.

8.
There is no grand conspiracy to keep you in
your place. Conspiracies require
planning, and planning requires ideas. Most people in charge are too
busy thinking about themselves and keeping off people’s radar
screens in a bad way to come up with any great ideas. They are just
doing their thing and hoping it will all work out. So refer back to
#7 and assume that they have good intentions (for you or someone
else) and that most negative impacts on you are the result of good
intentions and bad planning exploding in someone’s face, and not
some effort to confound you. It’s not all about you. Get over
yourself.

9.
That being said, there are some conspiracies, good-old-boy networks,
and cliques operating within and at the periphery of any
organization. Anyone who watches Survivor knows
that people in your coalition are just as sure to screw you over as
people who aren’t. Sometimes the better choice is not to play games
at all. Leave the games to Survivor, and people will
have to judge you by your actual contribution to an organization,
instead of your alliances.

10.
Choose the mountain you want to die on. If
every issue brought up for discussion at a staff meeting is a
potential opening for telling people they are screwing up, are
stupid, and you know a much better way, and if you perpetually feel a
need to dig in your heels on matters of principle, do yourself a
favor, and keep most of these to yourself. There are more subtle ways
to campaign for change, and one of the most valuable ways is to keep
your head down, do good work, take advantage of strategic
opportunities, and wait for an issue that really matters. If you go
atomic over the announcements, you are seriously limiting your career
options.

11.
Know when to quit. There is a difference between doing what you are
capable of, and doing what you are meant to do with your life. I
always got interesting projects, and I gradually moved into a
position in the organization with stability and a decent amount of
influence. I can point to things I have done that have made a
difference at Penn State. It was fun, and I learned a lot, but I know
in my heart that I am not really meant to be an administrator, but a
creator…to write, to design, to do creative projects and to help
people. And I am meant to be a good husband and father. I arrived at
a point in my career where I knew that I'd accomplished what I needed
to, and so I went gladly, and happily, and I know that Penn State is
better for my having been there, and that people will appreciate me
leaving while things were still going pretty well.

12.
Do good things. Not for your own sake, but for the sake of all beings
in the universe. Save and make free everyone you encounter. Show them
how to attain the wisdom of the way. In
other words, be yourself, free yourself, and give yourself to fate,
destiny and the universe. Life’s too short and the universe is too
vast. Make sure your light burns brightly and doesn’t go out to
soon.

September 11, 2001 began, for me, like any other day in Residence Life. I had just returned to the department a month earlier, after a two-year stint working for Penn State's Smeal College of Business, and I was still settling back in to the routines of the department. Though my experience working on the
academic side of the university entailed almost constant culture shock, shifting back into the "res life
way" of thinking had initially been very hard for me. I had quite a bit
whipped out of me over in the College of Business, and in some ways, I
was still licking some open wounds (but that's a story for another day).

I wouldn't have guessed that I would learn more about myself that day than I did in some other years of
my career.

It was the second day of a two-day diversity training session for the whole department. We'd brought in Jamie Washington and Maura Cullen to do a two-day diversity training. The whole Residence Life staff was together for what was turning out to be a pretty good workshop (at least I thought it was going well).

Things were barely getting underway when I saw Allen Chouinard, the Manager for East Halls Housing, come into the room, and motion Gail Hurley, the Director of Residence Life, over to the side. It wasn't unusual to have Housing staff occasionally attend our professional development meetings, so I really didn't think much of it. After a couple of brief comments to set the stage for the day, someone (maybe Gail) said something to Jamie and he matter-of-factly said something like "Okay, I understand Allen has an announcement," and for some reason I assumed that Allen was helping with the presentation.

He came to the front of the room, and said that planes had hit the towers of the World Trade Center, and that the news was saying that we were under a terrorist attack. The way that Allen's arrival, the brief confab to the side with Gail, and Jamie's announcement flowed together must have caused some sort of disconnect for me, because I thought for a few brief seconds that this was one of those diversity exercises where you have a scenario that brings all sorts of stuff up, and then the group has to sort through it.

"This is the cruelest diversity exercise I've ever been a part of," I thought, "This is so not cool."

And then Allen's face changed and Gail reached out to him, and people all around realized it was real. Some started to cry.

We turned on a big screen TV and saw the replay of the plane hitting the second tower, and my stomach sank deep into my gut like a lead weight. I forced back the urge to cry. "Nope. not going to do it. Gotta keep it together."

After a few moments watching the news coverage, the TV was switched off and the rest of the workshop canceled. We went into an impromptu meeting, first as a large group, then in area groups, and every member of the staff went back to their areas to answer calls at the office, and to walk around all of our buildings repeatedly to check on students, make sure they knew what was happening and try to keep people calm.

As I was doing my rounds through the buildings, I encountered a wide variety of reactions, with the most common being that same shock and disbelief that must have washed over me during the workshop. An RA and the coordinator went looking for a student whose parents worked in the towers. He was trying to reach them on the phone but couldn't, and was trying to borrow a car to drive to New York. Another resident told me a friend was in the basement lounge sitting on a couch, crying, trying to call her parents. Penn State has many students from New Jersey, Connecticut, New York, and Pennsylvania who are in the commuting zone for the Big Apple, so it wasn't a surprise to have so many worried students.

I went and talked to the young lady and introduced myself as the area coordinator. "A friend told me you were having trouble reaching your parents, and she was worried about you. Are you okay?"

"I can't get through. I just want to hear their voices."

I don't know where it came from, but I assured her that they were probably okay and would call shortly, and that it was likely that cell and landline service was spotty in New York that day, because so many people were trying to get updates or call loved ones to assure them they were okay. We talked for a little bit, and she agreed to wait, and to come to us if she didn't hear something soon.

When we found the young man from New York, we had to talk him down in much the same way. It helped when we told him the roads would likely be closed, because the highways are actually part of the nation's defense infrastructure. It was one of those pieces of random trivia I learned in a "national defense policy" class as a Political Science major during undergrad, and surprisingly it came in useful.

Both the young lady and the young man did hear from their parents, who were among the thankfully late to work that day. Many other stories that I heard turned out similarly. Not long after, as news came in of the Pentagon burning and Flight 93 crashing just over in Shenksville, we dealt with the second round of concerned students, and had more similar conversations.

I stayed up in the office all night that night, and still had to go to a "new employee" orientation the next day with Student Affairs. It didn't matter to them that I wasn't really new, or that I had been up all night. Business as usual was the order of the day.

The days and months that passed brought many lessons, errant thoughts, wanderings and moments of grief, hopefulness, sorrow, loss, redemption, resolve, etc. The scars ran deep, but so did the learning.

What lessons did I take from September 11?

• Diversity workshops don't always have scenarios to talk through, but examining real life and the world around you are probably more useful things, anyway.
• Life occasionally lays bare some ugly truths about how the world operates, and people have no choice but to deal with them head-on. This forces deep introspection, hard looks at the world around you, and the understanding that despite all of this, there are still some things that you will never truly understand.
• When you know what the world needs from you, it's time to stand and deliver, and it takes a sense of purpose and serious mettle to follow through. What Penn State and its students needed from me that day, and from my colleagues, was a sense of order and a calming presence. None of us could stop what was happening, but we could play a necessary part in just being there.
• When you are a part of a team that understands their purpose and who they serve, you're never alone. And neither are the people you serve.
• There's a difference between doing a job and having a calling, and sometime, in the midst of chaos and disorder, you might just realize which scenario applies to your situation. For me, I hated that gut-wrenching day and all the stress and sorrow it brought to so many people. But I also knew, deep within me, that I was in that place, at that time, to do what I was meant to do on this Earth.

As I reflect on September 11 each year since, I choose to reflect not only on the tragedy of the day, or the heroism of so many  ordinary people, but also to appreciate the trust placed in me and my colleagues to take care of other people, and the things we do each day to earn the honor. On days like that, the work is never easy, but it's always  worth it.

So here it is, the first workday of August. It's just past midnight and our professional staff training in Residence Life starts in just a few hours.

Though the day kicks off, as usual, with a breakfast welcome meeting, I find myself again feeling somewhat like "Fred the Baker" in the classic Dunkin Donuts Commercial . The tireless donutarian drags himself out of bed, and shuffles out the door, muttering "time to make the donuts." Ceaselessly coming and going, his faithful wife greeting him and sending him off, Fred waddles through a seemingly endless cycle. His daily reward for the Sisyphean task? A line of happy customers, always waiting anxiously for some donuts.

August and September annually blur themselves together when you work in academia, but I always find some shreds of variety in the routines we march through each year. And no matter how much stays the same, I always find a few glints of the unique and special, from meeting new people, changing tasks, or seeing the university, the department, and all our rules and protocols through the fresh lens of a new staff member. And, like Fred, I find the routine often dull, and the reward in serving happy customers. And after 15 years, I still get up at roughly the same time, though I worked too late or worried too much about what the next day would bring, and trudge to work.The routine reasserts itself, and I find some comfort there, not in the rules, the tasks or any of the other nonsense, but through the eyes of new students, their parents and new staff.

 So, as you drag yourself out of bed today and stare another year down, muttering to yourself "time to make the donuts," try to remember that there are all kinds of donuts out there, and plenty of hungry people waiting for what you have to serve. It may seem mundane drudgery to you, but to the people you serve, "them are some damn tasty donuts!," and well worth the wait. One could do worse than be a baker of donuts. Good luck to all as we start another year!

Once you've worked in Student Affairs for a while, you've probably
accumulated many stories of former students, and found it particularly
gratifying to see what some of your former students have done. Living
vicariously is one of the benefits of working in higher education. We
revel in our student's successes, and as they grow up and move on, we
follow some of their lives and careers, and do our best to maintain our
connections.  It's one of the great sources of joy that help make up
for low pay, long hours, and endless bureaucracies on the flip side of
this particular job-coin.

Working in student affairs isn't all
rewards and relationships, though. It can also be heart-wrenching, when
things don't work out according to the usual plan. But these moments
also teach us about the honor of serving students, the responsibilities
we accept along with our jobs, and the trust that our students, parents
and institutions place in us. I've found that this is especially true
for me when dealing with situations where students aren't able to
continue with their schooling, due to accidents, emotional and
psychological issues, severe illness and death (of a close friend or
family member, or of the student.)

These sorts of stories
won't particularly be the feel-good pull-out-of-your-memory-box
moments, or the funny stories that you tell friends or relatives at a
dinner party. They may be the moments you do your best to push aside,
because they tear at you and make you wonder if you can really handle
all the drama of college life. You may hide them away, because they
leave scars and hurts that aren't easily healed. They may be the
moments you never forgive yourself for being a part of. But don't.

Don't do this to yourself, or to your colleagues, or to the profession.
It's easy to celebrate moments of success, and to revel in them.
But some of the most valuable lessons you are likely to learn about
life, about students, and about yourself can be drawn from the well of
disappointment, failure and even tragedy. If celebrating student
successes is a great benefit of working in this field, then these
moments of harder learning are the dues we pay for membership.

In recent posts to my personal  blog I have been dwelling on life, death and
purpose. I thought I was done for a
while. Then, last Thursday night, I learned from one of my coordinators
(Bryan Koval, who also writes for this blog) that one of his RAs, who had just finished two years with us, and was
due to go on Study Abroad this fall, was killed in a car accident. She
was a beautiful, kind and sweet girl who really had a great impact on
others. 

Bryan asked me if there was anything else he
should be doing to assist his staff. It was then that my administrative
side kicked in and I started going through protocols in my head, so I
could make the proper notifications to the VP's office, the main Res
Life office, etc. The impersonal nature of such necessities really hits
home when you know the student well.  It feels cold, and requires
setting aside personal feelings for some other time.

When this
feeling hits you, hold it up to the light, examine it, and understand
it for what it really is. Taking care of business doesn't make you
inhuman, or unfeeling, or cold. It just means that you accept your
responsibility  in the process, and understand that your duty to care,
and to take care of people, includes taking care of details, setting
aside your personal feelings, and being there for others. It's not
easy, but it's worth it. It teaches you  humility, shows you your
mettle, and reveals the finer details of your character.

So
when you think back on the highlights of your career, and reflect on
the experiences that molded you, look back not only on  tales of
success, and students who went on to do great things. Some of the most
telling tales will likely be found when reflecting on what you learned
from "the ones that got away."

As the father of a 3 ½ year old, I have found myself increasingly taking life lessons from children's movies. The 300 or so times I have watched Cars have taught me that if you go fast and turn right hard enough, you'll start going left, and that it's better not to be a “one man show.” Up reminded me to value my family and to never give up on my dreams. Then there's Over the Hedge…

This movie offers some simple lessons that can be enjoyed by viewers of any age. But, reading between the lines, it offers a hidden lesson. What can you learn about others, about yourselves, and about how the world works, by taking a peek over the proverbial hedge and seeing how others live, think and interact?

Student Affairs professionals are sometimes rightfully criticized for living inside their bubbles, and understanding a lot about campus life and not enough about “the real world.” We can easily fall into this, if we only seek wisdom from like-minded people who spend their time thinking about the same things we think about, and may approach them from similar perspectives. I try to expand my worldview as much as possible by learning what people in other fields are talking about. Here are a few articles and sites that have offered me new perspectives.

Unsung Innovative Leaders, by Rich Karlgaard on Forbes.com.

The POST Method: A systematic approach to social strategy, by Josh Bernoff at Forrester.com

How to Decide in a Time of Confusion by  Kim Girard at BNet.com

Leadership: The Bathtub Model, At the Whiteboard Video on Bnet.com

Lifehacker.com: Tips and Downloads for Getting Things Done

Take a look at these sites and enjoy. If you have a favorite non-Student Affairs site you visit frequently for new perspectives, please consider sharing the URL by posting a comment.

HigherEdJobs.com has posted an interesting report at their site, examining recent trends in job postings by colleges and universities. Job seekers in higher ed will find this enlightening.

Key findings of the report include:

• Despite a dramatic fall-off in general U.S. employment over the last 18 months, the total number of
  jobs in higher education has remained relatively stable.
• While
  higher education employment has remained relatively stable, the number
  of advertised job openings in the sector has decreased significantly.
• During Q1 2009, colleges and universities shifted their hiring towards faculty and away from administrative hires.
• Colleges
  and universities continue to hire an increasing percentage of part-time
  employees, decreasing their percentage of full-time employees.

An interesting read and certainly something to know if you are in the job market, or thinking about it right now. You can also follow HigherEdCareers on Twitter.

In a new statement on their website,
dated March 21st, the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education
(FIRE), again takes The University of Delaware's Residence Life program
to task for their stated educational priority and co-curricular plans.

The Res Life Priority statement reads:

The author, Adam Kissel, Director of FIRE's Individual Rights Defense Program, goes on to state "It is evident
that ResLife cannot bear to rid itself of the mission of teaching
students that they need to recognize their responsibilities as ResLife defines them." Later, he questions the use of a book to promote discussions about sustainability and student awareness of related issues.

Kissel's
accomplishments, including a Harvard education, followed by a master's
degree from the University of Chicago's Committee on Social Thought,
are impressive. He is obviously skilled in rhetoric and social
criticism. But like anyone hoping to win a debate, he juxtaposes
selective information with rhetorical devices to imply an answer, and
throws in a little bit of condescension and bile to send anyone who
might disagree with him running for the exits.

I'm both disturbed and undecided about FIRE. On the one hand, they seem to have people who have worked with the ACLU and other organizations I respect. I even
find myself agreeing with some of their criticisms. But is an
organization that recently lamented that a cyber-bullying law might keep them from doing their job
really the best defender of freedom on American campuses? To me, it's
an open question, and a fair one, with no clear answer in sight.

But back to the rhetoric.

It's
not my place to speak for the University of Delaware, or even for my
own institution (Penn State), but as someone who believes he is working
for the betterment of my university and the profession, and who got
into this field to help students find their way through college and
into the real world, I feel I have a responsibility to engage in the
conversation.

First, bolding the part of the educational priority about sustainability only makes it seem ominous to dumb people. Cut
it out. I mean, really. If students aren't worried about doing their
required readings in their classes, they aren't likely to have a cow
about whether their RA, Resident Director, Director of Residence Life
or anyone else tells them they need to read a book and think about
their environmental footprint, how they can save resources, or whether
they ought to recycle. Even the oft-mentioned RA who told freshmen that
they had to attend a "Mandatory" meeting in an announcement to his
floor would probably tell any one of his residents privately that no
one is going to make you read the book, and that "Mandatory" isn't
really MANDATORY.  Some RAs
will always tell their residents that, no matter what their supervisor
says, because it's cooler to pass the buck than to come across as gung-ho
about something that "old people" want you to talk about. It's RA
apologetics in action, the RA-wanting-to-be-a-cool-kid equivalent of
saying "I'm just here for the room, dude. Come to my meeting and don't
make me look bad."

Second, Residence Life is in the Business of Education. Just because we provide tangible services (room and board plans, mediations,
room changes, emergency services and crisis response) doesn't mean we
can't delve into the theoretical, by encouraging exploration,
activities, and reflection on broader life issues such as making
friends, maintaining relationships, sharing space, and managing
conflict.  After all, when the classroom building closes and the
professors go home, the students spend the rest of their college lives
with us. We see how isolating it is for some students to leave the
comfort of their families and hometowns, and to connect with new
people. We work with the kids who get kicked to the edges of new social
networks in the halls, who feel invisible, who have never interacted
regularly with people who are demographically different from them,
or who have never experienced environments where it is safe to be
themselves. We help settle conflicts between students and take
practical actions like granting room changes, but we are not simply a
loose amalgamation of services, or a shelf with a specific product on
it. Classes prepare you for specific careers, but the rest of college is a
testing ground for life, where every person a student encounters is an
input variable, and every interaction part of a series of ongoing
social experiments. Co-curricular plans and programs should serve as
catalysts for reflection and refinement of values. Professionals may be
teachers, observers, or participants in the process, but learning
happens in the individual. Good curricula should
provoke thought and reflection, rather than prescribe agreed-upon ideology. It is always up to the student to decide what to do with the knowledge they gain.

I
think that most of us in this field understand that, and well, if you
don't understand it philosophically, understand it practically. You can tell people what to think about, but don't tell them what to think. It
is enough to know that students have been presented with information,
thought about it, and then made decisions they can live with. When it
comes to this co-curricular stuff, this is where we seem to be
struggling at times.  How specific should your outcomes be, in order to
be measurable? How general should they be, to support a broad array of
discussions, activities and reflections, and to allow for freedom of
speech, freedom of inquiry, and freedom of thought?

Third, what is the value of "faculty oversight," and who counts when you talk about "faculty?" For example, Kathleen Kerr and Jim Tweedy at UD
both have doctorates, and Kerr teaches classes for master's and
doctorate programs in Education, while Tweedy oversees the university's
RA Classes. It's right on their website, so FIRE should have noticed
when they lifted their pictures to use in a recent FIRE "documentary"
about UD's
program.  Does that count for anything? It really should, since we are
talking about the practice of education. It seems to me that having a
doctorate in the field, and teaching classes at a university would
qualify someone as a member of the "faculty." If it doesn't, does that
mean that a larger body of faculty should oversee every teaching
activity, and parse over everything a professor in the college of
business says or does, for example? Wouldn't that limit the exploration
of ideas, remove incentives for creative thinking, and effectively
create a cold and hostile environment in the classroom? I think it
would. But then again, I'm only an administrator. What do I know?

Going
into the latter parts April, those of you in the hunt are likely
getting to the point where you may be getting a job offer or two. Or
more. Every move you make at this point is critically important. After
all, there is no such thing as a simple job offer.

Salary and benefits
aren't the only thing to weigh in making the decision. Work
environment, location, commute, cost of living, co-workers,
opportunities for advancement, and institutional reputations also
factor in. Add on a significant other with goals of his or her own, and
maybe some kids, and you may feel you need another degree just to sort
out the details. Here are some sites that may help you juggle your
offers, and make an appropriate decision in an appropriate way.

Accepting the Job Offer

Juggling Offers

Questions to ask yourself

Before You Accept a Job Offer

Some
candidates find themselves in the enviable position of having two or
more offers. Even more have strong interests in two or more positions,
and timing issues that result in a waiting game or some back-and-forth
communication to discover which door might open and which might be
about to close. There's nothing more irritating to a hiring manager
than a candidate that can't manage this process ethically and in a
forthright manner. So my advice is simple: don't play games. You will
likely lose.

Getting a job is like going stag to a high school dance. You dress
yourself up, put on the best air of confidence you can muster, and then
try to stand out in a crowd of people who have done the same, so
someone will want to dance with you. The hiring manager is like the guy
standing over by the punchbowl, surveying the room, checking his
prospects, and figuring out who he likes and who is "in his league."
He's likely discussed it with a group of buddies and weighed his
options. By the time he makes his move, he has likely examined his
prospects and, seeing the dance hall is full enough, has an option 2 or
3 in mind. If you play mind games, he's just as sure to slow dance with
someone else. If you think you might want to dance with him later, say
so, but point to the other guy who is back at the punchbowl, getting
you a drink.

Of special concern to today's generation…what's
the etiquette about sharing your news on Facebook, Twitter, etc.? If
you need a cautionary tale, read about the "Cisco Fatty," a candidate
who tweeted her unfiltered thoughts on an offer from Cisco, weighing in
on whether a "fatty paycheck" would balance out the fact she wasn't too
thrilled about the work. A Cisco employee saw her tweet, and offered to
contact the hiring manager to share her concerns. Read more about her
predicament, and the lessons she learned.

I
once had a student come to me with an interesting dilemma. He was
offered three internships for the summer, and accepted two of them. In
different places. He came to me, wracked with concern, and asked what
to do. I told him to never accept more than one full-time job at a time.

And
one last thought…if you do accept an offer, don't rescind it for
arbitrary reasons. Sometimes, life circumstances may keep you from
following through. If you get hit by a bus, and are laid up in the
hospital, people will understand why your plans have changed. But once
you formally accept a position, it is bad etiquette, and arguably bad
ethics, to not follow through.

If you bail after accepting an offer,
the door will likely be closed for good with that potential employer.
Sadly, I have seen this happen in our department, with former RAs who
were offered Coordinator positions. In my time, none have ever been
invited back for another opportunity. This has not been true for
candidates who turned us down or opted out of processes before an offer
was made. Sometimes, the best way to keep a door open for later is to
close it yourself, politely, with a cheery "goodbye and thank you" on the way out.

If
you are one of the lucky ones out there weighing your options, good
luck! I hope you will make the decision that is best for you, and
hopefully some of the links mentioned earlier will be helpful.

Most
of us have experienced rejection at some time or other in our careers.
Many of us have experienced it multiple times. Whether you are an
experienced professional or someone just starting out, rejections bring
forth a variety of feelings, ideas and thoughts. It's frustrating and
at times, gut-wrenching, and likely to at least put in a ding in your
self-esteem.

How can you persevere through this, so you can
continue getting out there and trying your best? As someone with
extensive experience on the topic, from both sides of the process, I 'd
like to offer some of my thoughts on ways to sort through rejection.

• Accept it graciously and thank the interviewer/hiring official for his or her time. After
  all, not everyone who applied was actively considered for the position.
  Even fewer were invited to talk to their staff about the position, and
  a much smaller number actually invited to come to campus. Even if they
  didn't hire you, bringing you to campus wasn't some costly scheme to
  insult you for their staff's amusement. And they did invest their time
  and money in bringing you in. So they liked you, at least in theory,
  and felt you were worth consideration. This is always a compliment. Though rejection can sting like a back-handed swat in the face, don't assume that a rejection for a particular position is a repudiation of you as a person or professional.

• Don't ask for feedback about the interview during the rejection call, unless it is offered.  Very
  few people like calling candidates to give them bad news, and fewer
  still are adequately prepared to share feedback on the spot.
  Institutional policies might officially discourage hiring managers from
  sharing feedback, as well. It's okay to ask if you could get some
  feedback at a later time, but only do this if you really plan to follow
  up on it. And don't be surprised if the answer is "it just wasn't the
  right fit." Sometimes it really is just that the hiring committee or
  manager felt another candidate made a stronger argument or had a more
  appropriate skill set. There's not much use in knowing that, unless you
  are really committed to a certain type of job or working at a certain
  institution. And you can't force the issue of "fit," because it's
  nebulous at best, and resides pretty firmly in the area of legitimate
  managerial discretion.

A
few posts back, I elaborated on why "April is the Cruelest Month" in
Student Affairs, as the recruitment cycle really kicks into high gear
with on-campus. I'd like to add another reason why this time of year
strikes dread in me: employee performance reviews.

I've gotten some interesting ideas on how to approach the SRDP process with millennials from the Free Management Library , BusinessWeek , and Generations at Work. I've heard Neil Howe speak about Millennials Rising
and even asked him a few questions along these lines after his talk.
I'm convinced that this is the challenge of our era, because we need
more than ever to get good people into this field, and to work on
keeping them. If there's a trick to this, I imagine that it involves us honoring them for their uniqueness, and them respecting that the role of the supervisor is to develop the employee, not simply to praise.

Please consider sharing your ideas on the blog. If you
would prefer not to be so public, send me your ideas and comments at
seancook@psu.edu and I will revisit this topic in a later post. If you
are giving reviews to staff (student or professional) this season, good
luck. If you are on the receiving end of the table, same to you.
Hopefully you'll get good feedback, that you were generally expecting,
and that you can do something with, as you plot your pathway to success
as a Student Affairs professional.