The Multiracial Network (MRN) is a group of student affairs professionals organized within ACPA’s Commission for Multicultural Affairs. MRN’s goals include increasing the discourse on multiracial issues in higher education and providing resources to practitioners who are invested in multiracial student support. This year, to celebrate our network’s 10th anniversary at ACPA, we assembled a list of ten ways to support multiracial students. These are by no means comprehensive, but we felt that this would be a good starting point for practitioners who seek to provide support to a population whose racial identity is both varied and oftentimes complex.

1) When designing surveys that require demographic data, allow respondents to “Check all that apply”  and include a “bi/multiracial” or “mixed” option (or explain why you cannot).

2) Ensure that multiracial students feel that they have a space that they fit in on campus, whether that is a student organization or location.

3) When engaging in racial social justice work, make sure to include spaces for   conversations about multiracial people.

4) Build your multicultural competence in the field of multiracial identity development.  Understanding and embracing the complexities of how environments affect racial identity development for multiracial college students is key to identifying ways in which to support multiracial students at your institution.

5) Be mindful about language and your own biases.  It is common to use monoracial language and/or even the term “students of color” when speaking about students who identity with one or more marginalized and/or underrepresented racial identities.

6) It’s all about relationships! Bottom line, work to build relationships with students across multiple social identities that can foster a supportive environment where students see you as an advocate around a plethora of matters.

7) Understand that multiracial students can racially identify in different ways based on their experiences and situations. It is important that we do not make assumptions based on how a student looks or put them in positions where they may feel obligated to represent a specific racial identity.

8) Explore your own background as well as resources, writing, scholarship dealing with multiracial experiences, histories of people of color and issues of social, economic and racial justice.

9) Advocate for Multiracial students in your higher education institution and educational policies. Give them a voice!

10) Stay connected to national mixed race/multiracial resources like MRN and the National Association of Mixed Student Organizations (NAMSO) to be informed about ongoing multiracial student needs.

I was involved in a discussion about use of the “go-to” privilege article “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” by Peggy McIntosh for a RA Class. There was debate on if this material, along with a step in the circle exercise, was the best direction for the class. During the discussion someone mentioned that step in the circle experiences often impacted students negatively, and had a tendency to take a bad turn regardless of facilitator skill level. The response to this person’s experience was that they should re-examine the questions that were developed for the class, and that most of the existing questions were not about race or socioeconomic status. I then heard myself say “Isn’t everything about race and socioeconomic status?” I can’t think of a time that I was talking about privilege when you could separate race or talk about the topic without talking about socioeconomic status. This discussion/debate made me think about how we at times get too wrapped up in teaching others that we ourselves forget to do the work that we are teaching about. There is an assumption that when you work in student affairs that you come with a built in appreciation, and beyond surface level understanding of diversity, and today that has been transferred over to social justice. If you are in the field long enough people assume that you are well-versed enough to start teaching others. These assumptions become problematic as you have some that are speaking and supporting topics that they are no longer taking steps to grow and develop in. Just listening to issues or concerns of social justice presented by students does not make us any more socially just. It makes us people who live vicariously through other people’s experiences. It allows us to live in a bubble that says that racism exists but not within our teams, our departments—we are the ones in the white hats as Olivia Pope says on the TV show Scandal. We assume that we are the good guys who support and challenge the inequity and actively try to stomp out its existence. There are times that we in students affairs need to burst our own bubble and get down and do the work again.

I am proud to say that I worked in an environment that worked hard to burst that bubble for me every day and encouraged me to burst others’ bubbles. Twice a month there were social justice in-services provided by the Student Affairs division and my own residence life department for both staff and students. In the course of my time at this institution the value and importance of social justice was clear. It was also clear that if you could not actively engage in your own development then it might not be the best fit-this was something that was a standard for staff and student leaders within the department. As residence life professionals the team of 15 graduate and full time professionals took a full day to do our own unpacking of knapsacks through a facilitated workshop where we talked about our own privileges and biases. If we don’t start with ourselves then how could we expect our RAs or residents to engage in their own journey?

This consistent development has put me in a position to be mindful not to go too long without doing a self-check in, and not to wait for a training to come around so that I can check it off of my beginning of the year to do list. As we are actively engaging in the recruitment and selection process of our colleagues I ask us to think about the social justice questions we are asking and the answers that we are looking for. Is the person really talking about an experience that they were actively engaged with or are they sharing someone else’s story? Talking about issues of social justice is hard, especially when we do self-reflection, but it’s a topic that we as professionals need to continue to discuss in order to push ourselves to grow. We have to talk so that we can continue to challenge and support our students in their ever changing understanding and engagement on this topic.

The wonderful folks at the Student Affairs Collaborative have agreed to collaborate with some of the folks from the American College Personnel Association’s (ACPA) Commission for Social Justice Educators (CSJE) Directorate this week!

The #sachat on Thursday, December 6 will feature social justice education topics.  The CSJE folks are hoping to develop a twitter chat around social justice education, but want the community to drive that initiative.  We look forward to seeing you for the chat on Thursday and in the future.

To gear up for this week’s social justice chat, three of the CSJE Directorate Body members contributed a short post on what they believe about social justice education.  Inspiration came from This I Believe.

Kayla Nuss (@KaylaJNuss):

“Don’t go past the railroad tracks,” said one of my coworkers. “Oh yeah, I saw a property over there and I was afraid to get out of my car. That’s a really BAD part of town,” responded the other. As I sat listening to my colleagues discuss where they’d looked at homes for sale, I felt it boil up inside me. It was something akin to fury- hot and angry- rising into my throat. I clenched my hands over my keyboard and my nails made marks into my palms. ‘What should I do?” I thought, “I barely know these people. We just started working together What if I ruin the relationship that we’ve just begun building?” As they went on and on about the ‘good parts’ and the ‘bad parts’ of our suburban, mostly white, college town, I just couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“Hey, could you two please come into my office? I need to speak to you both,” I said, my voice trembling and cracking. “I’m worried about the words you’re choosing to use to describe parts of town. Things like ‘good’ or ‘bad’ are pretty loaded terms. Could you tell me why you chose those?” My colleagues stared back at me blankly. I wasn’t sure if it was surprise, horror, embarrassment, or something else on their faces. One finally said, “I guess I never thought about why I’d chosen those words. I just looked around at the houses and cars around some of those neighborhoods and they look run down and old.” I explained that it sounded like they were making huge assumptions about groups of people based on where they lived. I explained that they never knew which one of the students we served lived in the very neighborhood they were describing.

What I believe is that the students I work with and the people in my community deserve my voice. They deserve it because I am in a position of power and privilege. I never earned this power but, based on what I look like, who my parents are, and where I grew up, I have it. And I need to, no, I HAVE to use it- as anxiety provoking as that can be, it’s my responsibility to muster the courage, and care, to use it. It’s my job and that’s what I believe.

Sarah Glassman (@slglassman):

I see it everywhere, it’s systemic; on billboards and in magazines, images of violence against women – images of patriarchy, power and oppression. I hear it on the radio, in song lyrics and spoken by the DJ. It’s on TV, not just on Lifetime, but primetime. Am I the only one who sees it?

It is big and I feel small.

And then I heard it in the hallway near my office “dude, I totally just raped that exam!” It took me more than a minute to realize what I’d heard. With my office door cluttered with ‘Safe Space’ stickers and information about campus resources, it’s rare that I hear students acting so much like…themselves. I peeked out into the hallway to find who was speaking, a student I know. As their friends left I asked if we could talk. We sat in my office and I said, “what did you mean when you said you ‘raped your exam?’” The student explained that it’s “just something people say” and that he “didn’t mean it like that.” We had a conversation about understanding one’s intent versus their impact; we talked about violence against women. Our culture normalizes violence through phrases like the one he had said moments before; and if he’d said that comment in the presence of just a few others it’s likely that one of them has been sexually assaulted.

It may have seemed like an ordinary weekday to him, he may not reflect on the conversation for months or at all. But I believe it’s important to promote a culture that reflects knowledge and awareness through vocabulary and actions.

It wasn’t a long conversation but it’s a drop in the bucket that wouldn’t be there without me.

The language of our rape culture is bigger than any one individual but all of us have the power to do something. I believe I can interrupt and change it. I believe my simple action, my voice, move us toward a more just world.

Erica Thompson (@EricaKThompson):

I remember sitting on the bus, on my way to school in the seventh grade.  I had become old enough to sit at the back of the bus, where the “cool” kids sat, and really enjoyed that half hour or so every morning.  At the time, blonde jokes were all the rage; being naturally blonde, these always made me uncomfortable.  I considered myself smart and capable, something those jokes never portrayed.  I couldn’t see myself in the (almost always) women who received the brunt of the so-called humor.  There were whole books devoted to the concept that women born blonde were inherently stupid, incapable, ditzy, and promiscuous.  I hated them.  Every single day.

Then it got worse.  The blond jokes turned to cultural offenses that I feel ashamed to even discuss.  My young peers cracked up over indecent descriptions of our fellow humans of Polish and Jewish descent.  There are probably other populations whom were struck down with similar obscenities, but I have repressed which specific groups they were.  What I can recall with distinct shame, sadness, and discomfort is how I felt inside when those jokes were rattled off without a second thought.  My heart broke for the people who were the subject – even though my small town Iowan roots had never met anyone like them.

Even as a young teenager, I could feel at my core the injustices in our world because of race, gender, religion, and even appearances.   Those years ago, I didn’t have the knowledge and information to understand those injustices at a societal and academic level nor the tools to address my peers.  Now I have some knowledge and a few tools to do what is referred to as social justice work.  More than ever, though, I have that feeling – deep down inside – that it is my responsibility to work for justice.  This I believe – without working for justice, I will not find peace in my heart.  And I know more than ever before how much work I have to do, both internally and externally.

What do you believe?  Why do you do social justice work (if you do)?

We look forward to connecting with you.

Follow the CSJE Blog – new posts every Tuesday morning at 8 am CST: http://acpacsje.wordpress.com/

I spent this past week at at technology conference, learning how to use digital and social media outlets to reach out to students. It was a pretty fascinating experience; plus I was able to present with colleagues on how we use technology on our campus to serve students. One of the discussions I sat in dealt with how social media helps professionals be more “authentic”. At first, I was really down with this concept. I’m an introvert, I despise large crowds, I’m certainly not a “Woo” in any shape or form. But, I use Twitter as my medium to express myself. I can be rather sarcastic, self-deprecating, but never trying to bring people down. I express myself and share stories that relate to my past and current work. I also like to engage with other professionals as a form of development and growth. However, one of the panelists said that we need to be careful on how we say things, because showing our authentic sides may be misconstrued by those who may view us with altered realities. This really made me think about how I’ve often been told to watch my behavior so as not be seen as the “Angry Black Man”. This carries a lot of baggage and impacts my work.  I have to find the balance between being authentic but holding back enough to not be interpreted as the “Angry Black Man”.

I am cognizant of the fact that I need to watch what I say and do and how I can be perceived. It’s one of those things grown ups have to handle on a regular basis. However, being a man of color in student affairs, that perception is taken to a whole new level. I’ve really been sensitive to it when people tell me to check my body language, since it could be seen as “being defensive” or “being hostile” (in meetings, I usually sit with my arms crossed, because it’s comfortable and most of the time it’s how I process information). I’ve worked really hard to check myself when a meeting gets heated or when someone gives a remark that’s personally triggering. What heightens my anxiety is the fact that I am often the only man of color in meetings and discussions, and there is a lasting stereotype for men of color that showing emotion is equated with anger. So, when a topic gets a little heated, I have to work extra hard to not portray any emotion or thought. Am I to not express myself? Am I not to share my feelings and emotions? Trust me, I’m not going to get angry and throw a chair through a window.

But, as I kept thinking during the conference session, what if I was really angry, and that anger was authentic? What if I was angry that the majority of Oakland’s murder victims were young African American men? What if I’m still angry that one of my students in Oakland went missing a few months ago, and I didn’t see Nancy Grace talking about him on her nightly show? What if I was angry that politicians haven’t passed comprehensive immigration reform or that the unemployment rate for veterans is higher than the national average? Maybe I’m just a little ticked off that we can fund raise billions for elections, but the middle school I worked at had to ration paper towels because our budgets were cut. My anger is not caused by my ethnicity, but caused by the life I’ve lived and the things I’ve seen.

I remember a good colleague of mine telling me “It’s like I have to leave a large part of myself at the door when I come to work”. I suspect we all have to, in some form, to work in a professional environment. We all bring some anger to our work; it drives our efforts and wants us to make things better for our students and society as a whole. However, being constantly told to not look like the ”angry Black man” means I have to leave more of my experience and authenticity at the door.  I truly wish I could bring those parts of myself to my work and be “authentic”. I want my colleagues to know that I like Frank Ocean, or I listen to “Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me!” every Saturday. I want to share that I enjoy Frida Kahlo’s paintings, or that I’m reading the Quran to educate myself, or that I would love to travel to Sweden to visit my extended family one day. I want to share how my experiences in urban K-12 education shaped the kind of higher education professional I am today.

Maybe I’ll Tweet about those things more often, hoping that will lead to people getting to know the true authentic self.

It had been a long day at work. I had multiple student meetings, uploaded data to our database, reviewed leadership applications, and had to sit through StrenghsFinder training. As I looked at my strengths (Restorative, Achiever, Analytical, Responsibility, Deliberative), I noticed that there weren’t many similarities to other professionals in the room. Sigh, not again…this song resonated with my feelings.

Ever since I made that fateful decision to pursue a career in student affairs, I knew I would stand out in the crowd, as my undergraduate degree was in science and mathematics. My mentor (still a dear friend to this day) told me that educational professionals think differently than chemists and physicists. Once I started my graduate classes, I noted a stark difference in learning styles. While I preferred to listen intently to the professor and take multitude of notes, others wanted to express thoughts and feelings in discussion. I was told I was the most intense learner in class; I was always on time, I listened to every word the professor said, and my notes were neatly written. I had a hard time engaging in discussion in class; the first time someone cried in a graduate class telling a story, I had no idea how to respond. (People really didn’t cry in Physics…unless the test was hella difficult.) Besides, as a scientific person, development theories were just…theories. I was more interested in how the theories worked and how they didn’t. What’s the point spending three hours speaking about our thoughts on Kohlberg? Who cares…does it work or not?

Over time, I learned that I could use my strengths to my professional advantage. I tend to think more analytically in foreseeing possible obstacles. I would look at the “whys” and “hows” to ensure we were reaching out to all students. How are we inviting students? E-mail? Twitter? What do students use to communicate? Is the timing conducive for students who want to attend but work at night? What about our students who have families?  Have we identified emerging leaders to take this task on, rather than relying on the same batch of students we always look to? I wanted to make sure that we were being intentional and inclusive. I wasn’t the best at planning events or looking at theory; my strength was taking all that information and making a situation work for everyone (hence the analytical showing up in my top 5). Other times I didn’t say much in a meeting; I was processing information, and I didn’t have immediate feelings. I needed time to think a situation through and think through obstacles (part of the deliberative strength).

Now, this has caused some unintended consequences. People ask why I question how things are going to work, or wonder if I’m being hyper critical. I’ve been told that I “over-analyze” everything, that it’s hard to work with someone who is critical and doesn’t share how they “truly” feel. I’ve also been told my questions sometimes make me look like I’m smarter than anyone and I have all the answers. If I had all the answers, I’d be making serious cash and be speaking at every conference imaginable. It’s hard to quell my rapid-fire processing, and this is a task I’ve tried to take on. It has been a good thing to tell new colleagues how my mind works, and if I’m asking a lot of questions, it’s a way for me to think a situation through. I’m a problem solver and tend to imagine the event happening in my head, thinking of how it will operate and anticipating challenges.

Honestly, I’m used to being the one who thinks differently. But I’ve had to adjust to the higher ed environment. Not every problem has a solution, and not every situation needs to be fixed. There are times where I wished I was more emotional, more relative, more “Woo”. I really didn’t have a say in how my mind works, but if it helps my work then I won’t mind it too much if I’m a little different.

This past week I went back to Oakland to see some friends and get in some of the sights and sounds I dearly missed. In retrospect, I miss the northbound 880 freeway getting jammed past 66th Avenue, the crazy Walmart on Hegenberger Road, Fenton’s Creamery and Zachary’s Pizza, and sitting in the bleachers at the Coliseum hoping my beloved A’s would decide to finally make the playoffs. As I was talking with old friends who taught in the Oakland school district or did social work with the school district, they asked about how I was transitioning back to higher education. More specifically, how was I dealing with not being in a diverse area like Oakland?

I told them I had two main struggles. First, I missed some of the action I had with my work there. You’ll never know the impacts 6 and 7 year olds will have on you until you leave. Second, I missed being in an urban area where all my creature comforts were available. My barber was 10  minutes away, my favorite kimchi restaurant was in Berkeley, and the midday lunch music mix on 106 KMEL was always slappin’. As I kept thinking, what I really missed was the diversity of the region. You could interact with different people from various backgrounds and learn a lot from their lives.

But, here’s the thing as we talked about working in Oakland…we wanted to be MORE diverse. We strived to make our schools and neighborhoods open and welcoming, and we thought of unique and unorthodox ways to do that. Got a school that has an influx of Muslim families? Offer space to hold an iftar during Ramadan and work with the students and families to make sure your event is following religious guidelines. Seeing that many of your families are immigrating from Cambodia? Invite family members to volunteer at the school and serve as guides to newer folks to help with paperwork, getting school supplies, and finding transportation to and from school. We wanted to provide that environment, even if it meant we had to feel uncomfort and had to work a little harder to get there.

But, as I told my friends, in higher education the topic of diversity could be considered politcally sensitive. Make no mistake, we want a diverse campus, with students, staff, and faculty from all over the globe, and everyone having dialogue about different things. But, depending on your campus and the politics that surround it, you might either devote precious resources to recruiting and retaining a diverse student body or tread very carefully, lest a state legistlator or irritated tuition-paying parent decides to create a fuss. It’s all relative to the campus you work at. We all want it, it sounds fantastic, and it makes our misson statements look powerful. It’s the action part of achieving diversity where we get stuck.

A while ago, I was at a meeting with some division Deans and Directors and they said they wanted more diversity programming. They used the words “intentional” and “impactful” and the other words we in student affairs like to throw out when we want something great to happen. I thought it was a fantastic idea; I do diversity programming, so it’s right up my alley. I bluntly told them, “I can do that…no sweat.  It’ll be fantastic, and I’ll get a great crowd. But it’s going to make some people uncomfortable, and they’re going to question why we need it. I need you to back me up when those questions come and not be afraid to stand up for this.” There was some chatter amongst the group, and one of the Deans said “it’s my job to back you up, and I believe in the work you do. I got your back.”

Given our country’s political climate, it would be easy to retreat from voices telling us that “diversity isn’t important” and “things are fine”. We don’t want the headache and the unwanted publicity. But, if we as professionals are committed to a just and equitable society, we’ve got to put our mission statements into action. We need to challenge our administrations to ensure funding is strong for LGBTQ services, Women’s Centers, Multicultural/Ethnic-themed centers, Early Outreach Programs, Veterans Services, Counseling Centers and Disability Resources. And, we need to support these units, in word and in presence, when they program and outreach to students. We know these offices are vital to the success of a vibrant campus. And, the hardest part is challenging ourselves to seek more knowledge, realize when we don’t know everything, and have the courage to admit when we need help in understanding difference.

I’ll be real…standing up and challenging administration to support diversity initiatives is tough. There have been times where I was sure I would walk out of a meeting with a pink slip for my supposed insubordination. And, self-reflection can be a very painful task, particularly if you are challenging beliefs and values you grew up with or learned over time. But, as my friends reminded me, I was working on creating more open and inclusive environments in way tougher situations in Oakland, so standing up to a Vice President should be “hella easy”.

This infographic from Colorlines.com takes a close look at how students of color are taking the brunt of the impact from recent education budget cuts. Specifically, students of color are enrolling at community colleges and for profit institutions at higher numbers than their White counter parts. What data stands out to you? What outreach can be done to better support students who experience financial difficulties?

“Right now, life is like a thousand TV screens, each with different things on it. Where you were just at, each screen was flashing RED, and that meant danger. Now, you’ve got to work on not seeing every screen as RED, and know that one screen might be RED, one might be YELLOW, and the others might be a beautiful blue sky.”

My last post talked about the difficult change I was going through, moving from Oakland back into a nice higher ed environment. With this change comes a certain level of anxiety. This is a fairly new environment, with completely new individuals, new expectations, new culture to navigatge. My position is brand new, and there is no precedent for what is expected. Everything is new. Being back in higher ed is nice, but I have to learn not to be hyper vigilant at every situation.

In my work, I had to be on “high alert”. I was working at a elementary school in a rough part of Oakland, and we had a variety of characters coming through the door. We had families who had lost their homes and were living in cars, divorced parents who were fighting for custody, aggressive parents who didn’t care what anybody said about their child (despite the fact that the students had significant issues), parents involved in drug dealing, and the unknown family member that just showed up to say hello. If a child told us that they were afraid to go home because the dealers across the street were going to steal their textbooks, I would walk them home at night to make sure they got their safe. If a mother wanted to stay in the school because her husband was beating her and the kids and wanted us to call the cops, our school was the only sanctuary they had. We had a saying amongst the administration: “it’s all for the kids, so let’s keep the babies safe”. So, when a random person walked in demanding to see a student, or if a student said they were being abused, we had a rigid safety protocol to follow. If that family member didn’t like it (which happened often), they had two choices: do what we say or we’ll get the Sheriff. You never really knew who was coming through the door, and what they were bringing.

Now that I’m in a different world, I struggle with such a drastic change. I’ll get students coming in who have experienced traumatic situations, but I’m more than capable in handling those moments. Once a 12 year old student tells you he wants to sell drugs and go after the cop that killed his father, nothing really shocks you after that. What is difficult is living in the nice, tranquil environment I’m in. I’m not used to quiet. I’m not used to the scenic walk across campus, the lush green grass, the cool breeze that hits my face. It’s weird to see people laying on the lawn reading books, playing frisbee, taking pictures. I know it’s real, but it doesn’t FEEL real.

I went to an Associate Dean about my experiences, and she related to me. We both worked with at-risk youth in urban environments, and both made a switch to student affairs. Her comment, related above, really resonated with my current experiences. She also mentioned “talk to your colleagues. You understand what they go through as professionals, but they need to know where you’re coming from.”  That process is already happening with some good results.

My circular path to this work took me through places and experiences that many of us will never endure in our lifetimes. Does that make me a better professional? Probably not. Does that make me a unique professional? Definitely so. What I’ve been through has enriched my professional tools and techniques, and has made me more understanding and sympathetic to what people go through in life. We all as professionals believe in the redemptive value of our students; we are trained to hope and wish students will learn from their experiences and become more productive members of their communities. In my new realities, I’m striving to find the redemptive value in myself.

In my experience in Student Affairs, I’ve met two kinds of people:

Those who enter Student Affairs, love it, and stay in the field

Those who enter Student Affairs, realize it’s not for them, and leave to find their calling

I’m in a special class of professionals who left, thought I found my calling, realized I ALREADY had my calling and left, and came back. And that poses a unique set of challenges.

For the past 4 years, I was a teacher in East Oakland, and eventually moved into an administrative role at two different public schools in Oakland. It was incredibly stressful and frustrating, but at times absolutely rewarding. Some of my students went through situations and circumstances that amaze the mind. Even under incredible duress, kids would still turn in their homework and thrive in an academic environment.  However, after 4 years working in chaotic situations, I came to the realization that my calling was actually in Student Affairs. I actually missed icebreakers, late night student org meetings, res hall welfare checks, and the numerous leadership retreats. I hated the fact that I would be leaving the kids, but I had to do something for myself. After I talked with a school principal about moving back into Higher Education, he told me “if that’s your passion, the kids here will definitely understand. You’ve been good to them, and they only want the best for you.”

The process to get back into Student Affairs was pretty arduous and it is going to take time to readjust. My recent experiences are vastly different than when I was in Student Affairs. How do you explain how to program a diversity education seminar when you’ve been breaking up fights between 7th grade girls for the past 4 years? How does it sound when someone asks “What’s the most difficult situation you’ve experienced?” and you respond “A parent that I worked with was killed in a collision caused by a police chase on the way home from his second job”. My first staff meeting back in a Student Affairs office was difficult; my colleagues were talking about programming related to Trayvon Martin, and I told them “you know, I had a 16-year old student shot in the head two nights ago. I’ve lost too many students like Trayvon. It’s too real for me.” It was hard for my colleagues to understand that I was in an environment where horrible things happened, and now I’m in an environment where we discuss horrible things that happen from afar.

I still have some adjusting to do. I have to refrain from using “hella” several dozen times in my conversations and I now realized the El Guadalajara taco truck isn’t outside my office. But, if it’s for the field I truly believe I belong in, I’ll be happy with it.

One night while I was trying to unwind and relax with my friends, I decided to repeat one of my favorite phrases from the movie Babe. “Baa-ram-ewe, sheep be true” needless to say laughs ensued and other funny movie quotes were thrown out there. One of them being “E.T phone home” in the classic E.T voice. This comedic exchange between my friends and I got me thinking, the E.T quote in particular got me thinking – If I were E.T how would I have phoned home?

I am the son of two deaf parents. Calling, or as E.T would say phoning, home has never really been an option for me. Thanks to technology there are wonderful ways that I can stay in communication with my family (Skype is a wonderful way for anyone to communicate with home). Yet this idea had me going in two directions, 1) our word choices are extremely powerful when relaying messages and 2) there are so many invisible aspects that may make up our students that we would never know unless they told us. How then do we serve our students? How do we serve a student population we have never worked with, who we have never learned a theory for, or don’t even really know are on our campus?

For me coming to college was eye-opening, it was the first time in my life that not everyone in town knew me as, “Ryan, he has deaf parents”, it was something that I had to disclose to people. Of course I shared, it’s a part of who I am, a part of what makes me, me! Now that I am in a Higher Ed/Student Affairs masters program and learning about theories for various student populations, I reflect back to my own development and am curious how much of my background affected my development. I had a great experience in my undergrad, and my mentors, advisors, and supervisors were able to help me exactly the way I needed, but I’m just one person – I wonder if there are other students like me and if we as a collective population have some special needs. This has had me thinking lately, what can we do to help those hidden populations of students? How can we bring awareness to them?

Our field places a huge focus on word choice and being sensitive to those words that may be offensive to populations. We have created buzzwords. Realizing that when I heard “E.T phone home” I immediately thought of the fact that I could not “phone” home in the traditional sense. I of course laughed that this is where my thoughts went because it is not a sad situation nor is it a difficult situation for me. Yet it highlighted the power of words. One simple word can influence thoughts, emotions, and actions. How then can we educate our students on the power of words? My opinion and philosophy is to correct them when appropriate, kindly explain to them how those words are impactful, and to be proactive and have the conversations that lead students to realize that what they say carries power. How do you educate your students on the power of words?

Ryan Bye is a graduate hall coordinator at Texas Tech University.