I Needed That

Every so often, it’s good to be reminded of why we do what we do.

Westmoreland and neighboring CCAC have uncommonly robust undergraduate research programs for community colleges. Both are preparing to send students to conferences soon to present their research. On Friday I had the chance to sit in on the dress rehearsals.

The faculty advisers came at it from an angle that I hadn’t considered but that was immediately obvious in retrospect: Instead of just focusing on the presentations themselves, they coached students on how to navigate an academic conference. (I never received that presentation in either undergrad or grad school, but I wish I had.) That included tips like “wear comfortable shoes, because you’ll be standing and walking most of the day” and “be sure to hydrate, since you’ll be talking to a lot of people.” They even recommended backpacks as alternatives to shoulder bags, on the grounds that backpacks distribute weight more evenly and you’ll feel the difference by the end of the day.

I couldn’t argue with any of those.

Friday’s gathering included faculty advisers and administrators from both colleges, as well as the students who were preparing for the trip. Westmoreland and CCAC take turns hosting it; this year was our turn.

Undergraduate research nationally tends to be dominated by STEM fields and four-year schools. I spoke at a plenary at the National Conference on Undergraduate Research years ago. In a room of hundreds of people, when I asked for a show of hands from folks representing community colleges, I saw fewer than 10. What I didn’t know at the time was that one of the only two-year delegations was probably Westmoreland. Walking through the exhibits at NCUR, the STEM disciplines clearly dominated the group.

Community colleges generally don’t have the lab facilities of four-year institutions, and they aren’t built around faculty research. The students, by definition, are relatively early in their academic careers. But they still have curiosity, and they still have things to say. Fostering a sense among the students that the academic project isn’t finished—that there is work to be done—strikes me as both true and encouraging.

The presentations that I saw—there were so many that we had to split them between rooms—ranged from psychology to LGBTQ issues to dental hygiene. (Apparently, toothpaste containing arginine is superior to toothpaste without it. I didn’t know that.) One group doing a study on barriers to student success was frustrated by the local IRB taking its time; upon hearing that, the faculty exchanged knowing glances and a few smirks.

The presenters themselves were much more composed than I likely would have been at that stage of my career. They handled questions well, taking critiques as suggestions for improvement rather than as devastating attacks or intimations that they’re unworthy. Rhetorical styles ranged, as one would expect, but they were all better than some presentations I’ve seen at professional conferences.

In admin roles at community colleges, we’re constantly looking at “performance” conceived as minima: How many students passed, how many graduated and how can we improve each? Those are appropriate, as far as they go, but they don’t really speak to the quality of the academic experience. Looking only at pass rates, I can’t distinguish the inspired from the dutiful. As students, I’m guessing most of us had classes that we passed without enthusiasm. Retention and graduation rates speak to the minimum, but they don’t say anything about whether students caught intellectual fire.

These students did. I needed that.