I've Got a Theory...

(No AI Was Used to Compose This Post)

Early in my career, I used to love making up theories. Former RAs and residence life colleagues might recall my famous Step Back Model of Big-Picture Leadership, the Shaw Mediation Funnel, or the Weenie, Weasel, Barracuda Type Sorter. I won't bore you with the details, although I'm secretly hoping you ask. In any case, none of them were studied or validated, but at the time, they seemed to help provide simple structures for turning concepts into practice.

In real life, I loved the actual theories that scholars dedicated their lives to studying. I still idolize Marcia Baxter-Magolda, Lawrence Kohlberg, and many others, and I want to believe my little models helped the knowledge they created come to life. Perhaps the most famous (or at least easy to remember) student development theory is Nevitt Sanford's Challenge & Support model. In essence, we need to make sure we provide both to students in equal measure. If you challenge someone too much, they won't succeed. If you provide too much support, they'll never learn or thrive. 

In a recent Ms. Behavior episode, with guest Brian Norcross, Kurt and I explained Sanford's model and asked Dr. Norcross, a renowned music conductor, how he knew how far was too far to push an artist or ensemble. As Dr. Norcross reflected on the importance of deeply knowing students, Kurt recognized right away that empathy was a key element of the Challenge/Support practice.

Then, something amazing happened. We started talking about positionality. Would it be fair to suggest that a student scheduled to meet with the dean of students might be more nervous than a student meeting with a hall director? Does a college executive who doesn't frequently interact with students have a greater responsibility to recognize that they don't know what they don't know about students' lives? As we talked about Challenge & Support, a new theory took shape (see Figure 1). 

Figure 1

It's not scientific, but dare I say that it's important to reflect on your power? How does your role impact a student before you even meet? If the authority granted to you makes the stakes higher for a student, what barriers exist that you must consciously eliminate in order to make way for mutual learning?

Are we on to something here? How might you test this theory to see if it holds water? What lessons have you already learned that apply? Every exceptional conduct officer I know has a story of the time they made inaccurate assumptions about a student, and were humbled by the reality of that student's life. What's your story of being humbled? What hearing do you wish you could go back and change? Where do we make spaces to talk about those important errors? 

Music and Discipline in Perfect Harmony

(No AI Was Used to Compose This Post)

I'm a word nerd. My first year of college, I made the mistake of thinking I wanted to major in Spanish. At that time, new languages came easily to me, and I hadn't asked my heart for its opinion on the matter. By the time I graduated, I'd burned through a theater major and landed in speech communication. Still, though, I think about my senior year, when I took a class in linguistics that, had I discovered it earlier, could have easily seduced me. I loved learning to code language phonetically so I could examine the syntax and grammar of every language. There is beauty and logic in each one.

Nowadays, etymology is my favorite word nerdery. It helps me beat my husband to some Jeopardy answers, but it also helps me as a conduct officer. 

This week, my friend Greg from Moravian College sent me an article breaking down the meaning of the word "accountability." Author Tom Geraghty makes a case for taking the pieces "ability" + "account (tell your story)" when applying the word to student conduct. The origin of the word "accountability" related to reckoning (specifically, reckoning together), not just providing space, but even so, there was an implication of reflection and coming to terms, rather than just measuring accountability by blame or punishment.

After a few days of ruminating on that article, Kurt and I garbed up in concert black and interviewed renowned musical conductor and composer Dr. Brian Norcross for Ms. Behavior. I knew all the musical metaphors I'd collected from playing for Dr. Norcross had direct implications for the world of student discipline. It was only after the interview, while I was editing the footage for the episode, that I smacked my head in realization.

"Conductor has the word CONDUCT in it, dumdum!"

Of course! Any beginner-level student of a Romance language course knows that "con" means with. The "duct" part comes from the Latin ducere "to lead." Making a case that music and student conduct are related actually does a disservice to the fact that THEY'RE THE SAME JOB! We meet with people experiencing something challenging, something that must be done in community, something that impacts others in profound ways. The work is something that requires constant study and expertise, but equal amounts of humility if both the process and outcome are meant to inspire growth and joy.

I hope you'll tune in for the latest podcast episode. If you're a word nerd like me, a music fan, a theory geek, or just a conduct professional with a love of learning, Dr. Norcross's wisdom will be music to your hearings. 

https://www.fandm.edu/stories/norcross-music-anniversary-performances.html