Graduate education is a unique experience which most of us undertake -- at most -- once or twice in a lifetime. Of course, I happen to be the exception who proves the rule in that I’ve been enrolled in and completed three different graduate programs in fairly disparate fields: organic chemistry, counseling, and higher education administration. My perspective on the graduate student experience is influenced by all of these academic undertakings, as well as the many individuals I have met along the way. In this brief essay, I would like to share with you some of my thoughts on the role of teachers and students in graduate education. I shall begin by explaining my views on graduate school as a socialization process and then outline some expectations for both my students and myself along this academic journey.

When I was a graduate student in organic chemistry, I was certain that the graduate school journey was wholly an intellectual one. In the natural sciences there exists, for each discipline, a rather explicitly defined body of knowledge for which students are held accountable. A not inconsiderable portion of that information was, of course, introduced during the undergraduate major, and I saw graduate school as a time to fill in the gaps, to exercise my intellect, to explore ideas on the cutting edge, to choose a specialty, and to add to the body of knowledge in that discipline. It was expected that one possess (or rapidly develop) an identity as a researcher during one’s graduate school tenure -- and presumably for life. In this incarnation I was a physical organic chemist specializing in free-radical addition reactions as well as quantum-mechanical calculations of hypothetical molecular systems.

Additionally, in the natural sciences, nothing short of total individual commitment to one’s discipline is expected. One shows up to the laboratory early and goes home late; there is always one more problem to solve, one more reaction to run, one more hypothesis or idea to test and/or discuss with a colleague. My most vivid memories of life as a chemistry grad student, for example, are of the times my major professor and I would walk across the street to the nearest coffee shop, “talking shop” the whole of break time, drawing chemical structures on napkins, and offering various hypotheses about what’s happening with our experiments or calculations. Faculty communicate their expectations by living their lives this way. Science is a way of life: nothing less than a seven-day-a-week, twenty-four-hour-a-day commitment to knowledge seeking.

My experience while pursuing a counseling degree was quite different, as you might imagine. In contrast to the purely intellectual pursuits of a scientist, the counselor focuses, to a large degree, on emotional tasks -- both for self and clients. As a student in a counseling program, I found that only about a third of the training was theory; we also concentrated much of our effort on skill development and personal growth. Compared to the life of a scientist, a much more balanced lifestyle was expected for a counselor. A healthy individual, and especially a healthy counselor, was one who modeled and nurtured growth in all dimensions of human existence: intellectual, emotional, physical, and spiritual. Coffee breaks with counselors were not inclined toward theoretical ramblings, but were often truly intimate and emotionally-charged interpersonal exchanges.

As widely different as these two graduate school programs were for me, they did have something in common. During the time I spent in each, the expectations of what it means to be a professional in the field were clearly communicated. It wasn’t part of the formal curriculum (there was no course entitled “On Being a Chemist,” in other words), but it wasn’t difficult to infer the messages being sent. My interpretation of these cues was that scientists were totally dedicated to the advancement of knowledge; counselors were charged with helping to alleviate suffering in the world. Further, scientists specialized and worked around the clock, often paying little attention to other people or things in life; counselors took a holistic approach and paid more attention to the entire person. In sum, much of what I learned in these two programs had as much to do with professional philosophies, and the lives of chemists or counselors, as the knowledge base that was being taught; in each instance I was being socialized into the profession. It is in graduate school, after all, where a student is first immersed in and introduced to the culture of the profession -- which includes all the beliefs, values, assumptions, skills and expectations that apply to the particular field of study when one is finally out there in the “real world.”

The socialization experiences I had in obtaining my two master’s were probably about as different as two programs offering advanced degrees could get. However, I like to think that, between the two, I have evolved into a fairly balanced individual; today I exercise my intellectual and emotional sides and nurture the physical and spiritual dimensions of my being, too. The socialization experience I had in my higher education doctoral program was probably closer in emphasis to my chemistry program in that it was touted as an intellectual and research journey -- despite my a priori belief that administration is more of a calling to serve others (which is how I define counseling). The study of higher education lacks, however, that defined body of knowledge which characterizes a discipline, and, at least in my doctoral program, was not presented in humanistic terms but rather in a somewhat dispassionate, theoretical manner. In truth, I left the program in a rather confused state in terms of professional socialization, a condition which I attributed to the messages provided (or, rather, not provided) by the program’s faculty. Fortunately, I possessed an identity as an administrator in higher education before attempting to formally study the field. Perhaps the best thing I have to say about the professional socialization I experienced is that it did not tamper much with an identity that was already there. As a professor in a college/university leadership program, I hope to avoid leaving the students in confusion about their future role(s) -- and model for them the scholarly, intellectual dimensions of the field, as well as a calling to service, which is my personal orientation toward administration. In short, I’ll strive to nurture both the cognitive and affective dimensions of my graduate students.

Given this view of graduate education as a socialization experience into a profession, then, certain aspects of the process necessarily follow for me. That is, I believe that both teachers and students have certain responsibilities that they should aim to uphold in order to make the experience as successful an educational endeavor as possible. I outline below what I strive for myself and what I ask -- and expect -- of students. In terms of personal expectations, I briefly emphasize here four areas: caring, commitment, communication, and cooperation.

Caring. I try to demonstrate to my students that I care for them as individuals. This stems from my belief that learning and personal growth is next to impossible in an environment where an individual feels intimidated, overwhelmed or, in some other way, unsafe. As best I can, I attempt to make the classroom “warm.” I do this by smiling, frequent eye contact, calling students by their first name, and frequent humor. I also encourage students to call me by my first name (some get the hang of it, some don’t), and use self-disclosure at times, to let students see me as a normal human being -- rather than as an unapproachable professor.

Commitment. I have a strong personal commitment to intellectual achievement as well as personal growth in all non-cognitive dimensions and I try to model this for my students through actions and words. I hope that this commitment is clearly conveyed -- and that my enthusiasm is contagious! I view myself as a serious scholar, one dedicated to the “life of the mind.” But I also like to stress that living in one’s mind all the time is fraught with pitfalls. We need to feel our way through this human experience, too. Above all, I demonstrate my commitment to my students in that attention to their needs comes first. Despite a variety of competing priorities in my life, I have always structured my time so that my students and class preparation are number one.

Communication. Successful communication is the key to all positive relationships and involves both effective verbal and listening skills. I believe that my success in the classroom begins by speaking at the students’ level. As best as I can, I try to put myself in their position and approach the topic at hand from their vantage point. If I use vocabulary that is too advanced, or if I assume knowledge not mastered, then I am not communicating successfully with those students. Although my ultimate goal is for them to achieve at a higher level than where they started, I cannot expect them to do this if I do not respect them where they are and nurture their growth. I do this, in part, with appropriate use of language.

I also demonstrate good communication -- and nurturing behavior -- when I listen. My listening skills, I believe, are one of my greatest strengths as both a counselor and as a teacher. To understand where a student is intellectually, as well as emotionally, requires patience. And one must demonstrate the ability to closely listen to what the student is saying, as well as what they may not be saying. In my experience many teachers would be more effective if they would concentrate on improving their listening skills.

Cooperation. As both a counselor and a teacher I have always been impressed with the power of small groups. Whenever possible, I draw upon the knowledge, expertise, and range of ideas within a class so that we can all learn from each other. As a classroom leader, I strive to empower the group and have them direct their own learning. I prefer to structure class activities that involve group dialog and, at times, group projects. And if for some reason the course is not working or moving along as I envisioned it, I invite the group to design their own learning experience by assisting me in revising the syllabus for the remainder of the term. One of my first rules in both my counseling and teaching roles is: if what you’re doing isn’t working, try something different. In attempting that “something different” during the progression of a semester, I use information supplied by the group.

The preceding four areas are the ones I am the most conscious of as I attempt to assess my work with students, both in and out of the classroom. I know, however, that I don’t always succeed in being the most patient instructor or the best listener to a student who is in need of attention. The comments I receive from students on the evaluations every semester tell me that I do a pretty decent job in these areas, though.

Of course, as I have mentioned, I have expectations for my students. Most agree that I set fairly high standards -- and that they are about the same regardless of the level of student: underclassman, upperclassman, or graduate student. There is just one key word that I use when describing the role of the graduate student: responsibility.

First, students must be responsible for the basics of good student behavior, that is, showing up (wasn’t it Woody Allen who said that showing up is 80% of life?), paying attention, and doing the work. I don’t believe that students can be very serious about their academic experience without at least observing these three basics. But beyond these elementary requirements, I expect students to take a high level of responsibility for their own learning. My students need to participate actively. Passive learning (such as me talking and them listening) is not a common practice in my classroom. My students need to communicate with me and each other and to search out their own “truths” -- and if they can’t find those, then they need to, at the very least, begin to identify the questions that are most important for them. My approach to the classroom can often lead to frustration unless students understand what I’m trying to do. I don’t supply the answers; but I do try to develop really good questions. Unless students see themselves as responsible for their own learning -- and unless I can communicate this philosophy to them -- then semesters can be very long periods of time to endure.

Finally, in the area of students’ responsibility for their own learning, I encourage and expect them to use their graduate school experience to experiment with new ways of thinking and behaving. Where else in American life today is it still as safe to take risks as it is on a campus? Even if the new ways are ultimately rejected, such information is invaluable for a person. I view the experience of being human as an art form, and I encourage free expression and new ways of looking at the world for my students.

Learn to take risks. Be free. Ask questions. Find your own truths. This is what graduate school is all about.

I don’t talk much about my dating life here. But I do have one. This mostly-unmentioned part of my existence involves an embarrassingly large number of approximately-one-hour, one-time meetings with women I’ve met online.

Lamentably, I still have hopes of finding “the one.”

When I do talk about “dating” (oooooh, how I hate that word), I often comment on the high percentage of women who engage in some sort of deception. Mostly, their dishonesty takes the form of lying about age and/or posting photographs, on their online profiles, that are very dated. But there are other topics that are exaggerated or misleading, as well. For example, I’ve met women who claim to do this or that for a living, but it turns out they don’t do this or that at all.

I was recently provided with yet another example of this kind of behavior.

Last week, I received am email from a woman who said:

Hi,

We seem to share many common interests -- reading, writing, photography, personal/spiritual growth, qualities we think are important in a relationship partner...and more. I'm curious to know more about you. 
If you resonate, please drop me a line.

Best wishes.

[no signature]

The vital statistics she listed about herself, height, body-type, age, etc., seemed consistent with her photograph. She was attractive and had produced a very appealing profile narrative. Her listed age was five years younger than me.

I wrote back and we agreed to meet for a short hike (weather permitting) on (Super) Sunday (before the game). During the week, when we were making these plans, I offered her my cell-phone number. On Friday, she finally emailed me her number when I reminded her that I didn’t have it…just in case we had to change plans if the weather wasn’t cooperating.

She also indicated she didn’t have a cell phone. And that she didn’t check emails during the weekend. [Totally not my lifestyle, but what the heck (I thought to myself).] She also didn’t furnish a last name, but I Googled her phone number and was rather surprised at what I found. So, Friday night I wrote back:

Hey Gaylene (not her real name),

I know you said you wouldn't be at the computer this weekend, but thought I run something by you just in case...

There seems to be weird information out there on the internet. Your phone number yields a Gaylene Luvall, but also leads to other Gaylene’s with last names of Anderson, Drake, Damasch, Swelton, and Wexler. And an age ten years older than your profile.

Good ol' Google must be confused??

-jim

As it turns out, Google was not confused.

Google hardly ever is.

When we met (yes, I showed up…I was curious), and asked her about these issues, she expressed surprise that so much information was “out there.” She never did tell me exactly what her age was or how she got all those “aliases” (which is what the web page I found called them). She said that she really hadn’t been married THAT many times. And proffered the argument that age is a state of mind. I countered that chronological age is a precisely a matter of biology and arithmetic.

Gaylene (again, all these names are made up…I don’t have the intent to “out” her) is a therapist and life coach (presumably). She said that in her practice she helps people “live authentically” and she, herself, places a high value on honesty.

All I can is: wow. Be careful out there.

I recently had a conversation with a colleague over lunch that included the topic of “what did you do during Christmas break?” She asked first, so I told of my experience. Then, I listened to her describe her trip to Zurich, and Munich, and good times with her sister and two adult children. Quite the holiday, it sounded like.

Of course, I had had nothing like that to report. I stayed at home. And worked on my computer conversion. Yep, that would be me: TechnoMonk. Hunched over a computer his entire vacation.

Really, my time off didn’t resemble anything like a European getaway, but it was a big deal for me. I now am back in the world of Macintosh. Finally.

I bought my first Macintosh (my first computer, actually), a Mac Plus, in early 1986. (It had ONE WHOLE MEGABYTE of RAM!) The agency where I was working at the time had purchased a Mac, and from the very first moment I touched it, I said “I have to have one of these!” Of course, I had no idea how I could make that happen. That was 25 years ago and, although I was employed full-time, I wasn’t exactly getting rich being a counselor. And while the Mac was an “insanely great” machine, it was also insanely expensive. However, I was not to be denied. About ten days after I first played with that magical machine, I owned one. I had to borrow the money, but it simply was not a thing I was going to live without.

I was a fanatic about owning a Macintosh. Being a “Mac person” became part of my identity. I found myself doing rather crazy things like joining the local Macintosh User Group (CMUG), and even, for a time, serving as a board member of that organization. I still had that Mac when I moved from Oregon to Indiana in 1990, ultimately replacing it with another Mac (the latest and greatest, the first of the Power Macs). I remember that, when I finally got rid of the Mac Plus, a friend remarked that I’d gone, computer-wise, from a clunky Volkswagen to a shiny-new Mercedes overnight.

So, again, in 1994, I had this whole other beautiful Macintosh machine to spend endless hours with. I wrote my dissertation on that second machine, and ultimately moved it back to Oregon with me in 1995.

However, the organization where I was employed, from 1995 to 2004, was almost entirely a PC environment. I had bargained a Mac for my office when I arrived in 1995, but by 1997, I was pretty fed up with being out of synch, computer-platform-wise, with everyone around me, and I capitulated. I asked for a PC at work, and bought a PC for home.

I told people, “I joined the rest of the world.”

Hence, I was out there in the Windows wilderness from 1997 to 2009. During the fall of 2009, I was planning to replace my 2004 Windows XP Dell with a Windows 7 Dell, when it just seemed good sense for me to head back to Mac. I was influenced by my friends, Facebook and otherwise, and, of course, by those delightful Mac commercials.

So, during the last few months, I researched the latest Mac models and finally ordered a 15” MacBook Pro, with practically all the bells and whistles that one can have…and I use it, on the desktop, with a new 24” Dell UltraSharp monitor (that I had purchased before deciding on the Mac). The whole process has been somewhat tedious, but fun at times too. It’s taken a few weeks to where the whole “conversion” is complete.

That’s how I spent my winter break: re-entering the world of Macintosh. And, oh baby, am I glad to be back!

It hurts my eyes; it hurts my heart. It just simply hurts: watching even a small portion of the television coverage of the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti.

Last night, for example, CBS’s 60 Minutes had, as its lead story, a description of the 82nd Airborne Division’s efforts to rescue, feed and protect the victims. Included in the piece was the work of some physicians, from Doctors Without Borders, who were amputating limbs with rusty, unsterilized hacksaws – the only “surgical instruments” they had available. We also saw video of some of the thousands of bodies that were being scooped up and put into dump trucks in order to be transported away for burial in mass graves.

The scope of this disaster is unimaginable. I can look and listen, but I cannot comprehend. We’ve seen the tragedies of the Indonesian Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina but, somehow, this feels like it’s in an entirely different universe of terrible.

I feel helpless, despairing, depressed. All I can do is send money. Which I did once. Then did again. I have given to Doctors Without Borders, but there are several organizations trying to help. There’s a list of them on the NBC website.

So, I’ve decided: my life is not stranger than fiction. My life is precisely like a real life, filled with joy, sadness, large and small risks, successful experiments, failed ventures, good people, weird and bad people, health, illness, disappointments, met and unmet expectations, and lots and lots of loss.

The differences I spoke of in my last entry turned out to be, as I had thought, irrefutably irreconcilable. There was simply going to be no way for the two of us to pursue a life path together with the clash in values that had emerged.

In an incredibly brief meeting yesterday, we parted ways peacefully and amicably. It took less than ten minutes at a local coffee shop to exchange keys and trade a few personal items from car to car.

While there are residual feelings of sadness and loss, feelings that I imagine will hang around for some time, at this point those negative emotions are offset by a profound sense of relief.

I tried. She tried. In the end, it simply didn’t work.