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?