Student Affairs

Don’t fear the feedback

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On Wednesday night I presented an information session for one of the academic programs that I advise. In attendance at the session was a woman I knew from a previous role. I was perplexed by this as I work in Nursing and she has a Master’s degree in Student Affairs from a well-known and highly reputable program. Nursing would be a big career change. Why was she there?

We chatted a for a bit after the session. She told me that she is unemployed and has been actively searching for almost two years. She is starting to question her choice of graduate school degree and future professional life. My heart aches for her. Like many, I have been unemployed and I remember well the levels of frustration, anxiety, and sometimes even the sense of desperation that can come with the search. I remember feeling as if the interviewer could smell my desperation when I walked into the room. As a candidate, the deck is stacked against you. There are more of you than there are positions open. In many cases, candidates are given little, if any, feedback about their status in a search. And, candidates are given even less feedback about their performance while in the search.

This woman is smart, kind, capable, honest, and committed. I do not know all the details of why she is not being offered positions. Maybe she doesn’t interview well. Maybe she is under/over qualified. Maybe she doesn’t write well. I have offered to meet with her and do some career coaching. I hope to help her in whatever way I can.

Ever since then, I have been thinking about feedback in the student affairs job search process. I asked her if she had asked for feedback and what, if any, she got. To her credit, she has called past interviewers and asked for feedback. That takes guts. To even ask that question takes courage. To actively listen to what someone has to say takes even more courage.

She related to me that the feedback she has gotten thus far was “You were great! You didn’t do anything wrong in the interview.” Oof. Not only is this not true, it is also not helpful. Obviously something is wrong if she has been unemployed this long. And, how will she ever get better as a candidate if no one is taking the time to help her get better?

Feedback is hard to hear. I hate feedback. I hate hearing it. I hate giving it. But, it is a skill that I am learning and constantly trying to work on. Because, in my career I have been very fortunate to have received direct, honest, specific, and constructive feedback from people whom I know and trust. I also understand how hard it is to give feedback. So, when I get it, I try really hard to listen because I appreciate the time and energy that went into that conversation. I have also seen the impact that feedback has had on my own staffs.

In student affairs, we are quick to praise our colleagues and supervisees. We tweet it, we nominate them for awards, we serve as references. But, when it comes to the tough, icky, uncomfortable stuff, we speak in generalities and niceties that, in the end, mean very little. If all you are ever told is that “it wasn’t you” then how will you ever grow, learn, change, or get better?

Feedback makes us all better. It makes us more self-aware. It makes us slow down. It is helpful to others’ growth and development. It clears the air. It improves communication between individuals and across teams.

Feedback is hard. But the hard stuff is what matters most. That’s where the work really is.

I hope this woman will take me up on my offer to look at her application materials and do a mock interview. If she doesn’t meet with me, I hope she meets with someone who will take the time to genuinely help her, not sweep the feedback under the rug.

 

Self-advocacy

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I have been a certified administrator of the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) since 2004. In my professional positions at three different institutions, I have presented multiple “Type” workshops to students, faculty, and staff. I have made the mistake of doing these sessions out of the goodness of my heart and my desire to be a helpful, collaborative professional.

This summer, my colleague asked if I would facilitate the MBTI for incoming doctoral students. As part of her ask, she asked me what my fee was. I said something like, “oh no, that’s okay. You don’t have to pay me.” To which she said, “No, this is an expertise that you have and you should be paid for it.” I was totally blown away. Gosh darn it! She’s right! I do have this expertise, a lot of practical experience, and a terminal degree which lends credibility to my role as expert. We plowed ahead with the proposal to pay me for my time. Both departments running the Orientation agreed to split the fee and my supervisor gave the go-ahead. Yeah! I was going to get paid for my expertise. For the first time.

I prepped. I prepped at home. I revised slides. I practiced. Then, I did it. And it was great. I love the MBTI. I love helping people find their best fit type and then help them use what they learned to be better communicators, team players, and students.

And then, they didn’t pay me. As the request made it up the channels of paperwork, word came back down to me that they were not going to compensate me. Me doing all that prep work and those two sessions (one of which was on my day off) were part of the “Monica” package that I brought to the table.

I was crushed. I am sure I pouted. As a new professional and even just a few years ago, I think I would have pouted for a long time and then thrown up my hands and moved along. I would have accepted that this is just how it goes. This time though, something was different. There were voices telling me to keep pushing, to stand up for myself, to ask. The literature (and my own experience and my observations of others) are constantly revealing that women don’t ask, they don’t negotiate, they wait to be recognized.

For one of the first times I can remember in my professional life, I said, “No. No, this is not okay.” I advocated for myself, my time, my experience, and my expertise. I had provided something and I should be compensated for that. I put together a proposal requesting that I be paid for my time. And, it worked. I advocated for myself and it worked!

This experience marks a turning point of sorts for me. I learned some very important professional and personal lessons:

  1. I have to ask. I have to ask for what I need and deserve and be firm in getting it.
  2. I learned that self advocacy is a skill that takes confidence and practice.
  3. I am grateful for my colleague who suggested that I be paid in the first place.
  4. I am grateful for my supervisor who was willing to take a creative but fair proposal back to the powers that be and advocate for me.
  5. It helps to have allies.
  6. There are women out there who will support and cheer for other women. I am grateful for those women. I hope to continue to be one of those women for others.
  7. As a Mid-Career professional one of my professional responsibilities is to help younger professionals, especially women, learn how to advocate for themselves.
  8. Get compensation agreements in writing.
  9. Get a deposit up-front.
  10. No more free MBTI sessions.

Are you advocating for yourself and being compensated (however you define it) for the unique gifts and skills you bring to the table? Psst…You are worth every penny!

It’s okay that it’s hard

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I have written very little on this blog about my work in higher eduction and academic advising. I think this is mostly because I fear being honest in such a public forum. In my personal and professional experiences, I have found that really, really honest people such as myself are usually labeled as negative, or nay-sayers, or resistant to change, or blockers. Or, I think people are going to ask, “why do you do what you do if you don’t like it?” Or, they have actually said that to me.

I am reading Glennon Melton’s book, Carry On, Warrior. I cannot put it down. Yesterday, I read this gem:

“I love having written. And I love having parented. My favorite part of each day is when the kids are put to bed and Craig and I sink into the couch to watch some quality TV, like Wife Swap and congratulate each other on a job well done. Or a job done, at least.

Every time I write something like this, readers suggest that I’m being negative. I have received this particular message four or five times: G, if you can’t handle the three you have, why do you want a fourth? That one always stings, and I don’t think it’s quite fair. Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is that the second a mother admits that it’s hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she’s not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn’t add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it’s so hard means she IS doing right, in her own way, and she happens to be honest.”

(Melton, 2013, p. 113)

BAM! YES! I totally and completely agree with everything she writes about parenthood in this passage. And, all I have to do is substitute “student affairs” or “higher education” or “academic advising” or “being a working parent” for “parenting” and it describes most of what I have been feeling as a professional.

I don’t particularly get my students right now. They are frustrating to me. I think it is completely inappropriate that they come to appointments with me totally unprepared.”Tell me about your program” they say. So, I smile, launch into my spiel and do my job. But on the inside, I am saying to myself, “That’s not a question. Please come back when you are really ready for this meeting.”

Or, they are so prepared that all they do is recite the website back to me and then ask me if the content of the website is true. Seriously? Like I have the time, energy, or forethought to make stuff up on our website because I want to trick you and make more work for myself. I am not quite sure what all that is about. I am constantly evaluating and thinking about that. Generational differences? I have unrealistic expectations of student behavior? All of the above? None of the above?

I think right now my job is hard because I am not saying everything I think. I am not being honest. I am biting my tongue so hard I am surprised it hasn’t fallen off. Somehow in this profession, honest got translated as mean and being developmental means treating students like Faberge eggs. And, my frustration is that in student affairs I perceive that there is pressure to looooooooove what you do, all the time, all day every day.
Via Twitter and Facebook and professional organizations, I am constantly barraged with messages that professional frustration equates to unprofessionalism or lack of fit. I wonder if I am alone in this? I wonder if my colleagues- especially my fellow working-parent, mid-career, dual-career couple colleagues- feel the same way?

I would love to hear from you. What are your experiences with your job? Are you frustrated? It’s okay if you are. It’s okay if you aren’t. Are you allowing yourself to feel that way? Why or why not? Reading about another mother’s experience gave me space to confess that right now, it’s hard. It’s okay that it’s hard. It wasn’t always this way. It won’t stay this way.