I recently decided to take a pass on heading to the theater to watch Barbie. Initially, my contrary nature was at play here. Generally speaking, if everyone is doing something, I’ll pass. But then my 14yo son kept casually mentioning that he wouldn’t mind seeing it, and I was reading rave reviews, so I thought, why not? We had planned to go this week. But leading up to our mom-son movie date, I started noticing posts online from women saying that Barbie had emotionally wrecked them. One woman I follow on Instagram wrote that she was “hysterically crying” as the credits rolled.

As I continue to heal from a bad bout of anxiety (thank you modern medicine), I started to question my decision. Why set myself up for overwhelm? I could instead wait a few months and watch from home, giving me the option to take breaks, have my own snacks, pause to use the bathroom, and cozy up with my favorite blanket while watching. I don’t need to see Barbie to feel anguish about the state of our world. I don’t need to see Barbie to long for, to imagine, and to work to create a better one.

My decision to take a rain check on Barbie got me thinking about how to tell the difference between avoiding something in a maladaptive way and choosing to honor our needs and sensitivities in an adaptive way. I’ve learned over the past year that generally speaking, avoidance makes anxiety worse. Last summer, we turned the car around on our way to our summer vacation because of my anxiety. At the time, it felt like the right decision. But over time, not so much. I was anxious for the next year about this year’s vacation, worried that history would repeat itself. The short-term fix led to long-term problems.

But sometimes, avoidance is a smart choice. A few years ago, I was describing the sick feeling I’d get in my stomach when watching my (formerly) favorite show, Law and Order: SVU, to my therapist.

“Stop watching that show,” she said.

“But it’s a great show, and I love the main character,” I pleaded.

“Stop watching that show,” she repeated.

I took her advice, and while I sometimes miss the trials and tribulations of Olivia Benson and her team, I respect my need to not inject trauma into my already trauma-sensitive brain.

So how do we know when avoidance is healthy or harmful?

What I’ve come to realize this week is that the answer to this question lies in our values. Many therapeutic schools center values as the core of all healing. When we learn to make choices from our values, rather than our fears and outdated habits, we heal and thrive. This doesn’t promise us a pain-free life, but it does help us create a life of meaning.

In the case of the missed vacation, turning around felt good in the moment, but ultimately staying the course would’ve been more closely aligned with my values. In the case of the Barbie movie, not so much. It’s a movie. A great movie, I’m sure. An important movie, it seems. But it’s also a movie I’ll be able to watch in a few months at home, in a space where I can more mindfully process the emotions it elicits.

My core values are health, family, creativity, and learning. There are lots of other values that I could add to that list, but these are the top four that guide me. When I get lost in questions about whether to keep driving or turn around, I ask myself which choice aligns most closely with my values.

All of this got me thinking about conversations we’ve been having in #HigherEd about students’ mental health, anxiety, and avoidance. Is a student opting to skip class because of anxiety practicing healthy or maladaptive avoidance?

The thing is, only that student can answer that question. And the answer depends on their values. We can never, not ever, answer it for them.

But Karen, you protest. If they’ve enrolled in college, that means they must value their education, and if they value their education, they have to attend class!

Maybe (dare I say it?) the student does value education, but what they’re getting out of your course or their courses in general doesn’t line up with what they want from their education. Maybe they are seeking meaning and purpose and what your institution is offering them is an education in how to be a compliant worker bee. Maybe they want an education that speaks to the climate crisis and helps them to take action to fight it and yet they haven’t heard a peep about climate action since they set foot on your campus, a campus built in part by an investment in fossil fuel companies. Rather than shaming students for avoiding class or acting as if that’s an individual problem, what if we instead focused on creating classes that draw students in, anxious or calm, hopeful or terrified?

And of course, maybe that student’s anxiety is severe, and they are simply unable to attend class that day (or could attend virtually instead). There is not one “anxiety” that hits everyone in the same way. There is no study that shows that avoidance exacerbates 100% of people’s anxiety 100% of the time. Research always speaks in probabilities. It is up to that student, first and foremost, perhaps in consultation with their medical care team, to decide what they need in that moment. We’re not them. We’re not their doctors. We can be compassionate witnesses to whatever choices our students make, but it is never our place to decide for them.

Practically speaking, what does this mean for educators? I think it means that we keep doing what I hope we’ve been doing, which is to remember that college students are not a monolith and people with anxiety disorders aren’t either. I think it means that we remember our scope of practice: that we are educators, not therapists. I think it means that we do our best to create courses and campuses ripe with meaning and purpose, that help our students (and ourselves) fulfill their value of meeting the urgent needs of this moment in human history.

Have you heard about ChatGPT? (I’m no expert on AI. I’m actually scared of robots due to Battlestar Galactica…amazing sci-fi, watch if you haven’t.) It’s an AI that can pretty much respond to any writing prompt. Tell it to write a three-paragraph review of Battlestar Galactica. Ask for three tips to improve your time management. Enter in any discussion or paper prompt and it’s got you covered. It even writes pretty decent lesson plans.

What does this mean for the present and future of higher education? A lot, I think. As I process it, there’s overwhelm, excitement, fun (the thing is fun as heck), fear, concern, and confusion. It’s a lot. On top of a lot. On top of A LOT that we’ve all been navigating.

As you know, the work of adrienne maree brown is one of my touchstones. I come back to her now:

“Change is constant. You can’t stop change, control change, or perfectly plan change. You can ride the waves of change, partner with change, and shape change.”

Everything is always changing. Always. The idea that we could ever push pause on how we teach and learn is very human of us, and it’s completely unrealistic. Not real. Not possible. We are changing. Our world is changing. The ways we teach and learn are changing. Do we want to invest our energies in a fantasy that we can push pause? Or, do we want to shape change?

Here’s my message to you all: your colleagues, students, and campus leaders need to hear from you on this topic. Because I know for a fact that educators who want to take the “try to pause change” path are already vocalizing their concerns. They are already asking for stronger surveillance and punishment. If we don’t speak up, their voices will be the only ones that are heard.

I recently reached out to a leader at one of the places where I teach to share my views on ChatGPT: It’s here. It’s not going anywhere. Punitive approaches will harm students and faculty. Here’s a wild idea: let’s teach our students how to use it mindfully. Let’s learn with them. What would that look like? I heard back with positive feedback. I can’t control the outcome, but I’m really glad I spoke up.

Here are two great reads that I included in that email. I encourage you to read both (to the end, because there’s a fun surprise in one!) and share them widely. Let’s talk about this. Let’s teach. Let’s learn. Let’s shape change, together.

AI is here: if we fight it, we’ll lose and so will our students!

AI Will Augment, Not Replace

I raised my hand. I sent the email. I hope you will too. On this and other important topics. We often assume that those small choices don’t matter, but I still believe they do. In the words of amb, again, small is all.

Today is December 1, 2022, and December 1, 2019 was three years ago. Three years. What have we learned, #HigherEd? Where will we be three years from now?

I’ve been seeing some trending posts on Twitter (where I remain, because Twitter has been and continues to be a lifeline for disabled, marginalized, and chronically ill folks and no one has offered us a better alternative) with pictures of empty classrooms, often coupled with the question: how do we get them back?

This is the wrong question.

Desire Paths

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about desire paths, a concept from the design field.

Your town is building a new park, and some engineers, architects, and designers gather together to decide where everything goes. The path should go by the river so people can take in the gorgeous view, they decide. They pave their path and wait for the people to come. When the park opens, people being people decide to instead cut through a wooded area to get to the basketball courts and swing sets. Over time, a path is worn into the grass by their footsteps and bike tires. A desire path.

Another example of a desire path is something I’ve written about before: communication channels with students. Let’s say, for example, that you want students to use their college emails to communicate with you, and vice versa. You tell them this repeatedly, and you give them your Google Voice phone number for emergencies only. Pretty soon though, you’re getting constant texts from students with all sorts of non-emergency questions. No one’s using email. No one except you. Your students are forming a desire path. They are showing you what they want and where they are. You can continue to try to force them onto the paved path, but that will likely fail and exhaust you in the process. What if, instead, you met them where they are (with appropriate boundaries of course)? What if you paved the desire path?

The more I see pictures of empty on-site classrooms, the more I keep thinking about desire paths. Our students are showing us what they want and need. They are showing us our present and future. It seems though, that much of #HigherEd is sitting over on the paved path, wondering why students aren’t showing up. Students are showing up, just not in the ways that we want. They’re showing us very clearly that our paved path doesn’t work for them.

The better question is: when are we going to start listening?

A Return to Normalcy

The idea that the higher education of December 2022 should look anything like the higher education of December 2019 is truly preposterous after all we’ve been through, especially considering that the higher education of December 2019 failed to meet the needs of most students. I’m not going to review college completion rates with y’all because I’m tired. We have been looking at the same abysmal completion rates for the entirety of my career in higher education. You know what they are.

Back to normal. Truly preposterous.

Our students are showing us their desire path. To me, it looks like a very clear call for higher education to adapt to their needs, to this moment, and to our shared future.

Adaptation. What a concept!

This is not just about modality. This is not just about on-site or online.

Does the 15-week semester work for most students? Well, did it ever?

Does the credit hour system work for most students? A system that moves too fast for some and too slow for others? A system that fails to recognize students’ prior learning? Well, did it ever?

Do primarily on-site courses work for most students? For disabled and chronically ill students? Well, did they ever?

Do courses detached from the realities of students’ lives work for most students? Courses that don’t adapt because they’re not built to adapt? Well, did they ever?

I have a proposal for a quick way to measure how well your institution has been adapting by measuring what seems to me to be the lowest of low-hanging fruit: the extent to which higher ed has aligned with the survival of the human species. What percentage of your institution’s courses address climate action? Prepare students for the current and future climate emergency? We can call it your adaptability score. My guess for the average for most courses outside of the environmental sciences? 10% if we’re lucky. If we’re lucky.

The question is not how we get them back into the on-site classroom. The question is, when are we going to start listening? How long are we going to stand on this paved path, alone?

I’ve taught and worked in higher education for eighteen years. This, this era, feels different.

Despair feels like the sentence and hope some weaker form of punctuation we only see occasionally. A comma perhaps, which no one knows how to use anyway.

How do we work through this? How do we teach in this? How do we live? These are not rhetorical questions. I want guidance! I want specifics!

Here’s where I’ve landed lately, via the work of adrienne maree brown: into the model of mutual aid.

Dean Spade, in his book Mutual Aid, describes how the model works:

“First, we need to organize to help people survive the devastating conditions unfolding every day. Second, we need to mobilize hundreds of millions of people for resistance so we can tackle the underlying causes of these crises.”

When I read this over the spring, it felt a touchstone amidst the chaos. Take care of each other. Imagine and create positive change. Repeat.

This week, I attended a webinar hosted by ACE on the topic of faculty and staff burnout. I want to take a minute here to connect this conversation to the mutual aid model, because I think it’s a chance for me (and us) to practice this work.

First, let me say that y’all know I’m picky about virtual presentation skills and webinars and…okay about many things…and this was a great session. I learned something from all of the presenters. The facilitator asked smart questions, kept us on track, and did a nice job making those of us in the chat feel like we were a super important part of this learning experience. And an active chat it was. Y’all know how much I love an active chat.

What came up in the webinar was the question of how to get executive leadership and administrators to meaningfully address faculty and staff burnout, which is very clearly harming not only faculty and staff but also students and institutions. The problem is not debatable (you can read the full report the webinar was based on; that’s not really what I’m here to write about). The question is, what are we going to do about it?

In this webinar and in countless other spaces, I keep hearing higher educators say things like, “Leadership needs to start taking care of people,” or “Leadership needs to recognize that this is a systems problem, not an individual problem.”

The thing is, no they don’t.

What people in positions of power need to do is protect the status quo. Their job is to keep power concentrated in the hands of the few instead of the many.

I am a little surprised at how many folks seem to avoid that reality. Some of y’all did not choose the major of champions, sociology, and it shows. I kid. Sort of.

I have written before that burnout amongst faculty and staff is not a bug; it’s a feature. The constant antagonism between faculty and staff is not a bug; it’s a feature. Our collective exhaustion is not a bug; it’s a feature.

Imagine the power of a faculty and staff who are well-cared for, fairly compensated, and truly supported. Imagine the power of a united faculty and staff. Imagine the power of a rested faculty and staff.

Imagine that power, and then ask yourself if executive leadership is properly motivated to address burnout, or any of the other countless challenges we’re facing.

(I hope it goes without saying that there are many caring leaders. There are many leaders who are themselves experiencing burnout and who are in need of rest and care. We’re not blaming individuals. We’re talking about systems that treat all of us as a means to an end.)

I’m tired of hearing that people in positions of power “need” to do things that would result in them willingly giving up their power. Why would I invest another cent of my time and energy in that false hope? Instead, I’m leaning into the model of mutual aid. I’m actively working toward divesting from people and places who aren’t invested in imagining a more inclusive world where everyone has enough. I’m done banging on those doors, pleading for them to answer. Instead, I am working to invest in community, in the power of what adrienne maree brown calls “critical connections.”

A critical connection can be an email, a DM, a text, or a walk down the hall to their office. It can be reading Mutual Aid. It is finding the people who tell the truth about the hard stuff and want to make it better, and investing your time in supporting them and connecting your vision of a brighter future to theirs. It is seeing through the lie that these connections are too small, or in higher ed lingo, that they aren’t scalable, so why bother. Lies. Those critical connections, I believe, are how we survive this.

Imagine the power of a faculty and staff who invest in each other.

Sage Crump, via brown, again, says that emergent strategy is “amplifying the importance of the incremental to impact the monumental.” This is what we can do through learning and practicing emergent strategy and mutual aid. We elevate the importance of the small. We elevate the importance of care. We use our energy where it has the power to make a difference.

We stop going to empty wells when we’re thirsty.

What is your vision of creating change in higher education? Does this land? What am I missing? What success have you had in shaping change on your campus? Tell me all the things!

CW: suicide, death, trauma

Last week, on a slightly less scary version of Twitter, I shared a post about the book Atomic Habits by James Clear. I recognize that many would shelve it under “business-bro” and pro-productivity late-stage capitalism propaganda. And, it was recommended by one of my recovery meeting leaders, the honest to God antithesis of that shelf. A kind, wise soul in long-term recovery who teaches mindfulness and who rings a bell for us after a particularly courageous share.

My meeting leader had shared this line from AH: “You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.”

Before I go forward here, a disclaimer. I’m going to write today about ADHD. I’m going to write about it from the experience of someone who’s lived with it her whole life and who was diagnosed later in life. I’m going to write about it as someone who studied, practiced, and taught mind, brain, and education science for fifteen years before that diagnosis. And, all that said, I’m one person. ADHDers are not a monolith.

Anyhoo, I loved that line from Clear, and I trust my meeting leader, so I started the book. Yeah, there’s stuff in there that I can filter out, and, the point about focusing on systems over goals landed for me. I can hold space for both.

Some conversations bubbled up in my tweets, though, from folks who seemed to argue that the book and its ideas are trash, and that any discussion of goals and time management, routines and structures? Also trash. Honestly, I stuffed it for a few days. It’s the constant, relentless casual ableism for me, you know?

This weekend, it bubbled up again after I spent some time re-organizing my Google Calendar. I added structure to it. I built in strong, clear routines. I realized that having my G-Cal hidden in one of many tabs on my computer was a huge problem for me because of my object impermanence (for many with ADHD, if we don’t see it, it doesn’t exist). I set up a tablet next to my desktop with my G-Cal open. That I’m able to write this piece at all is a testament to how it’s already working to keep me on track with my Monday schedule.

As I put all these strategies in place over the weekend, I felt a huge weight lifting off of me. Instead of my brain trying to do this heavy lifting of moving me through my day, I can lean on the system that I’ve created. Such a relief. And as that relief washed over me, I thought again of the folks who were critical of the AH book. I thought again about some concerns I’ve had over the past few years about Ungrading.

Which brings me here. A little less ranty than I was feeling yesterday, and a little more clear about my goal here: to educate folks about ADHD, especially folks whose job it is to teach their fellow humans.

Tough Stuff

I want to pause here to reiterate a content warning about some heavy stuff related to life outcomes for those with untreated ADHD. If you aren’t up to processing that today, take a rain check and take care of yourself.

I get the sense through my daily interactions with people that most neurotypical people and a lot of undiagnosed (whether by self or others) ADHDers perceive ADHD as this thing where it’s tough for you to pay attention sometimes. And hey, you think, I have a tough time with that too. Eye roll, perhaps. What’s the big deal?

Untreated ADHD is a life-threatening condition.

Here are some statistics from the book ADHD 2.0 by doctors, authors, and fellow ADHDers Ned Hallowell and Jon Ratey. I’ve also woven in statistics from Russell Barkley, an ADHD researcher. Again, these statistics are based around untreated and unsupported ADHD. Treatment and support are available.

Untreated ADHD results in:

• A significant decrease in life expectancy of up to 21 years, more than the top 5 killers in the U.S. combined.
• A greater risk of accidental death and suicide including suicidal ideation and attempted and completed suicide.
• A greater risk of motor vehicle accidents.
• A greater risk of self-inflicted injuries.
• Decreased participation in preventative health activities such as going to the dentist and receiving appropriate dental care.
• Being 5–10x more likely to experience a substance addiction

There’s more, but I’ll end there for brevity’s sake. You get the idea, I hope. Untreated ADHD is a life-threatening condition. This is not about the time that you couldn’t find your debit card and had to order a new one, cause geez, what an inconvenience, but really, again, what’s the big deal? ADHD is much bigger and more complex. While ADHDers are beautiful, bright, charismatic, fun, kind humans with a multitude of strengths to offer our world, the struggle of living with this condition is immense. Immense. Ignorance of its realities pours salt on the wound.

The Glitchy Switch

A quick brain science lesson that might help folks understand the why behind all those tough outcomes. Why do ADHDers face higher rates of all the bad stuff and lower rates of the protective factors that could prevent bad stuff?

Current research is zoning in on the relationship between two networks in the brain.

The first is the DMN or Default Mode Network. These parts of the brain are connected to reflection, daydreaming, and rumination. Cool. So far, so good. Nothing wrong with a little daydreaming, right?

The second network at play in ADHD is the TPN or Task Positive Network. These parts of the brain activate when we are focused on something. It’s what lets us write articles, read books, have a conversation with a loved one or colleague, or purchase tickets to a concert. Also cool.

In the brains of neurotypical (NT) folks, generally speaking, these networks coexist quite nicely, taking turns throughout the day. Time to write that article? The TPN steps up. Taking a break? Time for the DMN to take over. In the NT brain, there is a cohesiveness between these two systems.

Here’s where things get interesting. Research into the brains of people with ADHD has shown that our DMNs and TPNs are a bit like two toddlers fighting over a toy. MINE. NO MINE. For a neurotypical, when the TPN activates (when they focus on something), the DMN deactivates. They stop ruminating and daydreaming so they can complete a task, whether that task is related to work, family, or play. But in the brains of ADHDers, that doesn’t happen. The DMN remains active at the same time as the TPN.

In other words, when our brains try to shift into focus mode, they also continue to ruminate and daydream. Speaking of toddlers, have you ever had the experience of your kid grabbing onto your leg as you walked away? When our TPN turns on, the DMN hangs on. Go ahead, it says to the TPN. Drag me. See if I care. I’m not going anywhere. It’s like trying to swim across a pool with a bucket tied to our waist dragging behind us.

In short, our brains struggle to focus because of an internal distraction, a persistently active Default Mode Network. Hallowell and Ratey have coined the term “The Glitchy Switch” to explain the relationship between the DMN and TPN in the brains of folks with ADHD.

Why the Glitchy Switch Hurts

Here’s the thing about my brain, and why knee-jerk negative reactions to anything arguing for systems, structures, and routines sucks:

If it weren’t for systems, structures, and routines, I would be dead.

I would eat cereal or pasta for three meals a day, if I remembered to eat.

I would stay up too late doing God only knows what, and I’d be constantly sleep-deprived, flaring my chronic illness and opening me up to a host of other physical ailments.

I wouldn’t clean my home or do my laundry. I would live in a state of chaos.

I would lose my jobs and livelihood.

My personal relationships would disintegrate.

I would not spend time doing anything joyful or playful. I would have no creative practice.

My personal hygiene would suffer. I would forget to brush my teeth and shower.

I would stop making and attending dentist and doctor’s appointments.

Pretty quickly, anxiety and depression would show up to the party, joined by their friend shame. That would inevitably be followed by self-medicating, probably via alcohol. My nearly six years of sobriety would be gone baby gone.

Your neurotypical brain can move you through your day because it has internal systems built-in that work pretty well most of the time. Of course you have off days, but again, most of the time, those internal systems work well.

My ADHD brain works differently. Because the DMN is constantly active and because of other ADHD-related differences, I need external systems, routines, and nudges to help me do anything, whether it be work, rest, or play. This is not about being a good little capitalist worker bee. I need these support systems TO LIVE.

What Loving Systems Look Like

Of course systems can be crappy. Of course toxic rigor exists. Of course you can use a routine to do harm to yourself or others.

And, the systems and routines that I have put in place to live and thrive with ADHD aren’t that.

I spend a lot of time planning. I have to externalize the steps in a process, and I can’t do this in my head. I have to write things down. I have to write everything down. Seeing it outside of my head provides additional structures that my brain can’t provide on its own. As I mentioned before, I rely heavily on Google Calendar and have recently gotten better at using Google Tasks. Again, this is not just about work or production. Those systems also help me to shower, eat, move my body, spend time with my family, rest, play, create, and take care of myself and others in countless ways.

I need to know when things are happening. I need deadlines. I need lists. I need timers. I need all of the external structures, and I am still constantly distracted, constantly struggling, and constantly frustrated with limitations. Without them, well…

Setting goals, building systems, using deadlines, and relying on external structures are not ableist strategies (though they can be). They’re not toxic (though they can be). These strategies are not capitalism’s minions (though they can be). For many people, they are a matter of life and death.

Supporting All Learners

I don’t know what it’s like to be neurotypical. I imagine that the level of structure that I have built into my daily life would feel restrictive for some NT folks. I mean, it feels restrictive for me. And, it’s the medicine that I need to take to be well. If you don’t want or need these systems, don’t use them.

Many ADHDers need more structure, not less. We need more deadlines, not less. Those deadlines, of course, can be no-stakes or low-stakes. They can coexist with fun and support. They can be self-determined! They can be built into a supportive educator-student relationship and classroom community where learners know that deadlines are there to help, not to harm, and that if they are missed, that’s an opportunity for more support, not less. For example, extended deadlines without additional supports can actually work against ADHDers. They need help “landing the plane.”

I worry about Ungrading approaches, and, it gives me hope that there’s such a powerful grassroots effort to reimagine some of the fundamental aspects of formal education. Both are true. I worry that there’s not enough structure in some Ungrading classrooms for our ADHD learners. I also know that structure and openness can coexist. The latter can be built atop the former.

I was thinking this weekend about how in my formal education career, I’ve dropped out twice. The first time was an undergrad religion course. The professor wrote “God” and “Dog” on the chalkboard the first day of class, and then lectured for the rest of the day and for every class after. No students spoke in class. Ever. The final grade was based on two assignments: a mid-term paper and a final paper, with 50% assigned to each. No instructions were given for what these papers could be about or how they’d be graded. I guess we were supposed to write about gods and dogs? I didn’t stick around long enough to figure it out. I withdrew from the class, the only “W” on my undergrad transcript.

The second one still stings. I enrolled in a doctoral program to study educational leadership. I flew through the coursework, loved it, and did well. I thrived within the high structure of the courses with clear expectations and deadlines. I started the doctoral thesis portion of the program in 2011. I dropped out a year later. There was very little structure and way too much flexibility. I circled the drain. It was an awful feeling, and it still hurts me to think that I missed out on this life goal because I didn’t have the support systems in place to meet my needs. There’s no doubt in my mind I would’ve completed that doctorate if I had been taught how to build systems and routines, if I’d had more loving deadlines, and if I’d had a better balance between flexibility and structure from my institution and advisor.

I hope folks will take this to heart and recognize that these ignorant takes on systems and time management are actually really ableist. I hope that you’ll sit with my take on the ADHD experience and also learn from many more ADHDers who will likely have a mix of similar experiences and vastly different takes. I hope that you will reflect on how you might be building your pedagogy around your brain, instead of the brains of all of your learners, and start to get more curious about how systems, structure, and routines might help many of your learners succeed and make the world a better place.

Today, feeling a little wiggly and unsure of my next steps, I wandered back to the Google Jamboard that we co-created during the session. Attendees from around the world shared responses to questions I adapted from brown’s book Holding Change.

Here are the questions in list form in case you’d like to reflect alone or with colleagues/students:

1. What I Want Most for Our Species is…
2. What I Want Most for Our Children’s Children is…
3. What I Want Most for Our Planet is…
4. The Higher Education in Service of Our Vision for Our Species, Children’s Children, and Our Planet is Filled with…
5. I Long for a Higher Education That Is…
6. To Realize the Vision for Higher Education I Most Long for, What Must I Practice?
7. What I Most Need from My Community to Help Realize My Vision for Higher Education is…
8. As We Work to Realize Our Visions for the Future of Higher Education, the Strengths I Can Offer to My Community are…
9. The Next, Most Necessary Step (Think Small!) for Me to Move Toward This Vision of Higher Education is…

I felt the urge to aggregate participants’ responses in an article to help my brain gain some clarity. Note: I’ve done my best to write the responses and images as they were shared, including when there were repeated answers.

May it be of benefit.

Thank you again to #MYFest22 organizers for creating space for this discussion.

What I Want Most for Our Species is…

Calm

to learn to listen to each other

respectful

PEACE

Healing

to grow the fuck up

To be still (I just read the Overstory, so that should make sense if you have!)

Care for each other (image of koalas hugging)

to BREATHE DEEP and live in harmony

caring

connection

A safe and nurturing climate for all

One day without trauma

Learning to live in harmony with the world

Connection

kindness, empathy, care

Exploration

Peace

Community

(image of futuristic city where trees are growing from buildings in abundance)

awareness and action

Enlightenment

Love — so much love. And joy.

For us to live together in harmony and love

Humility

recognize connection to other species

A peaceful, responsible and abundant life

Survival and thriving

Positivity

Peace. And acceptance (with boundaries). And emergence.

(image of young boy playing a guitar)

(image of a drop of water creating a ripple)

What I Want Most for Our Children’s Children is…

community

Freedom to be their whole selves

Safety from fear and oppressions

peace

home

healthy planet to live on

Trees, water, fertility of earth

a future

Nature

To PLAY together and CREATE together under the most beautiful and bountiful trees

for them to inherit a livable world in balance with nature

to feel they can have children without fear

solidarity

balanced prosperity

less anxiety about the future

A just livable world

to be able to live together in harmony and love…

Freedom, opportunity, and the ability to *live*

Joy

Learning from the past

A healthy planet

a livable planet

Safety

to not face the impacts of climate change

The world to be livable

Joy

acceptance

agency

A healthy world to live in

(image of a tree lined path)

safety

A world they can live in safely

clean air, water, shelter, love

A feeling of security in the future

What I Want Most for Our Planet is…

To REGENERATE

stewardship

Biodiversity

Humans to let it be

Sustainable Energy

for people to care about it

Reclamation of green spaces

for it to survive humans

be respected

Diversity

to be left alone

Health

peace

(image of butterfly)

balance

Recovery

Balance

harmony

health and peace

Health

Healing and growth

(image of flourishing trees)

symbiosis

BALANCE

reciprocity

humans to recognize interconnectedness

For sustainability…vibrance

move toward sustainability away from extraction

harmony

sustainability

to be appreciated

The Higher Education in Service of Our Vision for Our Species, Children’s Children, and Our Planet is Filled with…

socially just care

Love and respect

an appreciation of beauty

HUMILITY

a turning away from excess of excess

imagination

Permission to fail and try again

Curiosity, Responsibility, and Stewardship

People encouraged to pursue education grounded in their personal sense of purpose

art

equitable opportunities

Voices

freedom

(student) agency

curiosity and joy

accessible spaces

empathy

(image of heart made up of smaller images of fruits and vegetables)

Co-CREATION and IMAGINATION

intentional adaptation

music

Deep understanding

caring relationships

humility

Learning driven by the LEARNERS!

Pitfalls and barriers but a new generation who can change things

equity

curiosity

growth

no fees

values-based learning opportunities

Cooperation

more and more art!

Generosity

Recognition that we are all teachers and learners (whether we are faculty or students or not)

reverence

critical thinking

relationships, justice, care

disruption

Love, Understanding, Growth

Full Accessibility

I Long for a Higher Education That Is…

JUST and IMAGINATIVE

open

equitable

Free

diverse

open

fun!!!!

Liberatory

caring

Grounded in the context of its community

equitably cares for everyone

Truly open to all

Cooperative

agentic

equitable and open

caring for all

Broken-down silos

Welcoming

less predictable!

Based in the real world

Inclusive

without barriers

welcoming

Accessible and available

is spread through the world like a fragrance

creative

free

Equipping and freeing

Inclusive

that values staff (not just faculty and students)

meeting learners where they are

in the service of the public good

emancipatory

Thrilling

a place where everyone can grow in the way he/she desires

process and praxis-oriented

Emancipatory. Joyous. Emergent.

acting consistently with its professed values

Practices IHE

To Realize the Vision for Higher Education I Most Long for, What Must I Practice?

diversity

Speaking up

LOVE

presence

accessibility

to listen

openness

I literally don’t know :(

building community

Hang on to the dreams

understanding

patience

relaxing and getting others to relax and slloooowww down

allyship

self-care

Speaking up even if it means I’m uncomfortable. Asking questions.

Don’t take on more than I can reasonably take on

Speak truth to power

wisdom and love

being slow

Openness; respect; valuing

Deep listening

prioritize people over money

I must always make it relevant

REFLECTION

Slowing down and making space

YES! I don’t know either

Vigilance

Persevere when there are setbacks

continued curiosity and willingness to learn from my mistakes

Teaching my students that care is important in teaching

Form relationships

prioritizing value-based work

LISTENING

Being an Ally

intentionally equitable hospitality

listening

care

understanding

participatory methods

care and justice, constant learning

Creating a welcoming environment for my students

What I Most Need from My Community to Help Realize My Vision for Higher Education is…

good listeners

fewer rules

Someone to listen

Fair pay for adjuncts

REST

Acceptance

solidarity

TIME

Forgiveness

Opportunities for reflection

celebration

support to abolish structures that constrain us

Courage

space to take risks and support

time to listen

to be okay with slowness

to be OK with limited productivity

innovation

Shared enthusiasm and passion

voices of students

faith

courage

Time and Energy

recognising difference

adjuncts for actual adjunct work, not precarity paraded as permanence

risk taking

Less time on what doesn’t matter

True dialogue

understanding

diversity

connection

flexible work arrangements

Shared values

Time to Process

recognition and valuing other’s contributions

attention

equity focused practices

collaboration

As We Work to Realize Our Visions for the Future of Higher Education, the Strengths I Can Offer to My Community are…

Left/Right Brain Balance: highly creative but also analytical

snarkiness (with laugh-crying emoji)

willingness to reimagine everything

flexibility

Coffee

optimism

openness

The security to fight

acceptance of all

So so many dreams

listening

Empathy

Vision

pattern recognition

Making connections across contexts

Love

dreams

humor :)

community awareness

curiosity for others’ thoughts

the ability to listen

Compassion

Listening and honoring lived experience

I don’t know

end user experience focus

IEH, Analysis, Desire to grow

Tenaciousness

care

the ability to think outside the norm

i can make a mean infographic

student-focus

student advocacy (with graduation cap emoji)

courage

Intentional Equitable Hospitality

plurality of perspectives in my head

information design

CARE

love

collaboration

solidarity

The Next, Most Necessary Step (Think Small!) for Me to Move Toward This Vision of Higher Education is…

love my working space

stay positive

REFLECTION

bring it up with colleagues

more long walks throughout the year (not just in the warm months)

stay connected

Raise my voice

To keep showing up

Ask Karen to do this again

Read Emergent Strategy

sharing with colleagues

Connected with a like-minded imaginator

die my hair purple

finish my dissertation

ooooh yes! rest!

(image of person kayaking)

rest

support students & accept them as they are

Give encouragement to those who are trying to change things. Listen to them and ask them questions.

Find a dream buddy in my space

Make time to think

+1 on Finishing my dissertation

Patience with others

meetings at the coffee shop

REST

creating an open textbook

Block time on my calendar and HONOR it and protect it with my life

Thinking smaller, bite sized, Wordle-like ed dev next year rather than leaning on traditional (longer) models. Protect time!

Rejuvenate this summer in community with #MYFest

Truly listen

Hug a friend at work

Focus my energy with discipline this week (as in don’t waste it on meaningless stuff).

speak with a colleague

go slow to go fast

recharge in nature

bike to work :D

accessibility MYFest

#MyFest

If you’d have told spring of 2020 me that I would ever be nostalgic for any aspect of the early pandemic days, my response would’ve been:

And yet, here we are.

Remember when every meeting started by asking people how they were faring, really faring, and offering each other support? Places where I worked sent out emails, assuring us that if we got sick, or a family member got sick, that our work would be covered, no questions asked. We could also volunteer to be the person who would give our colleagues that coverage. When making plans for events, we would discuss game plans in case people were unable to present or attend. We talked a lot about giving each other grace.

Y’all. We were there! We were right there. And then…

We entered the “post-pandemic” era. Unfortunately, we chose to do so while still battling the COVID-19 global pandemic, while still battling existing pandemics of racism, misogyny, transphobia, kakocracy, and climate catastrophe.

In the past few weeks, several of my friends and colleagues have had to cancel events at the last minute due to sickness . Some COVID. Some not. Some COVID in themselves, some in family members. The reactions to their cancellations have been mixed.

Remember when we planned for reality and not for some fantasy post-pandemic world? Remember when we gave each other grace?

I define grace as the space between what we think needs to be done and what we are able to do. I think we have to have this event at this time and in this place with this facilitator. We must! But, life has other plans. We get sick. Our child gets sick. We are in the fog of long COVID. We are not able to participate in or lead that event. In between these two stories is where we can allow grace to enter. To let it be. To stop arguing with reality and start living life on life’s terms.

Some practical thoughts for those of you who lead events, host events, or attend events:

• Design for reality. We are living in an increasingly volatile era. The COVID-19 global pandemic persists. As we begin to experience more severe climate catastrophes, including but not limited to pandemics, we should expect the unexpected.
• Consider a back up plan. Talk to each other about what you will do if someone has to cancel at the last minute, on either side of these event agreements. Will you postpone indefinitely? Reschedule? Investigate back-up speakers?
• As someone who presents regularly, I have a list on my desktop of ace facilitators who I recommend to clients if I’m unable to meet their ask. If time allows, in the event of a cancellation, I would be open to reaching out to these folks for backup. Again, we can keep such lists as both clients and facilitators.
• Recognize that on-site events are inherently more risky. Aside from COVID, if you are asking someone to get on a plane, you’re rolling the dice. I continue to argue that we should be thinking with a virtual-first mindset and only weaving in on-site offerings when that is what truly makes the most sense for our learners and educators/facilitators.
• Reschedule for a later date that works for all parties. Learning is important, and it can wait.
• Turn it into a positive by using the cancellation as a model for how to prioritize care and well-being. Show your community how you give yourself and others grace.
• Just. Freaking. Cancel. I can promise you that cancelling an event will do no lasting harm. Prioritizing well-being is the only way forward, and if your brain starts to tell you another story around the idea of “we must,” remember that the only thing we must do is to take care of ourselves and each other.

Anyone who’s shared space with my lately knows that I am leaning heavily on the work of adrienne maree brown and the philosophy of emergent strategy. brown writes:

“Loving life means committing to the adaptation to stay alive, rather than the stubbornness to stay the same.”

Those who will succeed (and my baseline definition of success right now is sticking around to continue to live, fight, and create) in our volatile era, whether individuals or institutions, will be those who are willing to adapt to reality, rather than those who stubbornly fight to stay the same. I imagine a future of higher education where we gather together often to learn from one another, and those gatherings must be designed with our shared humanity in mind.

Many of us have been imploring people to wake up to the dangers of Course Hero. We have told you, repeatedly, about how Course Hero exploits students, our most marginalized and vulnerable students. Many of you have chosen to continue to partner with them in a variety of capacities.

My sense is that some people feel that the potential for good outweighs the harms that are being done. I wonder if you’ll feel the same after reading this.

I invite you to spend some time today searching their “learning resources.” Search for “my abortion.” There, you will find countless student essays telling their abortion stories. Many (most?) of these essays include multiple identifying details.

I of course celebrate people who choose to tell their abortion stories and to reduce the stigma around abortions, but I recognize that agency is complicated when a multi-billion dollar company is trading free “unlocks” to students who post their content on Course Hero.

I don’t know exactly how Course Hero is using the massive amount of data at their disposal, but I do know that women’s lives and pregnant people’s lives are at stake. I know that if I can find this information in less than five seconds, the people who are hunting those who seek abortions can too.

Does the good still outweigh the bad for you?

I’ve been teaching and facilitating in Zoom since pre-COVID times, and the Zoom chat is one of my all-time favorite teaching tools. And yet, here we are, two years into the rise of Zoom that took place during the (still occurring) global pandemic, and more than half of the Zoom learning experiences I’ve been a part of barely acknowledge the chat.

What gives?

I just read this article in Inside Higher Ed reporting on a study that analyzed students’ experiences learning online during the (still occurring) pandemic.

“Sometimes students found that faculty members limited student interaction on chats or discouraged student interaction during courses — a critical choice that students recognized affected their ability to share questions, concerns and clarifications.”

That’s wild, y’all! We have an incredibly adaptable tool that supports people and pedagogy, so why aren’t we making use of it?

I want to cover three main points in this post:

• What’s so awesome about the Zoom chat (or the chats in other online conferencing tools, but I’m a Zoomer, so I’m just going to say that)
• Barriers to teaching with Zoom chat
• What Zoom chats can teach us about improving on-site learning (that’s what I’m calling it this week)

Why Zoom Chat is Awesome

I started reading Tesha Fritzgerald’s book, Antiracism and Universal Design for Learning: Building Expressways to Success, over the weekend. It’s phenomenal. Go buy it immediately. This is required reading on the syllabus.

She keeps asking this question that I love: who is important? Who is important in your classroom?

I was thinking of that this weekend as I attended an online course outside of higher education. It ended up being great, but as I’ve seen so many times before, the facilitator dove in to her introductions and presentation without any invitation or direction to us about how to engage with her. No mention of the chat until about 30 minutes into the session when finally, we, the learners, voted with our keyboards and just took over the chat without permission.

In our Zoom classrooms, when we begin teaching without any opportunity for our learners to greet us and each other, when we make no mention of the chat, who is important?

You. Whether you intend to or not, by not giving learners an opportunity to engage with one another in the chat, you are communicating that you are the most important person in that Zoom room.

Inviting learners into the chat from the moment they enter the room communicates that everyone is important and that everyone brings expertise into the classroom.

Here’s what that looks like in practice:

1. I often start session with a Welcome slide that includes images of the Zoom controls and other notes about how learners can engage in our learning experience. This is where I mention that cameras are optional and encouraged. As learners enter the room, I read through these prompts a few times, encouraging everyone to say hello in the chat as they enter. Nothing fancy or formal here. Think of this as the equivalent of signs to let people know where the bathrooms and cafeteria are in an on-site classroom. A Welcome slide acclimates learners to the shared space.
2. Then, after a very brief introduction and welcome, I share a slide called “How to Engage.” This lists about ten different ways that learners might choose to engage with me, the content, and each other. It includes the chat as well as other things like doodling, the backchannel, etc. If I want my learners to engage, I need to clearly communicate with them how they can do that. They aren’t mindreaders and neither am I. I tell my learners that I hope they’ll be active in the chat. I remind them that they know things that I don’t know, and that their participation there is valuable. I also tell them that I don’t think of the chat as “whispering in class,” but rather an important learning tool.
3. Next, I include some sort of introductory activity that asks people to respond to a question in the chat. Lately, I’ve been asking people, “What is something outside of work that brings you joy.” Think of this as a chat warm-up.
4. Throughout the session, I continue to ask questions and encourage responses via the chat. As a rule, before I introduce what I know about an important concept, I ask learners to share what they know first. This is called activating prior knowledge, and it’s a simple but powerful pedagogical practice. Sometimes, depending on the size of our group and time, I also weave in video and audio. But the chat is absolutely the center of engagement in my Zoom rooms.

Barriers to the Zoom Chat

Remember, around here, we talk about faculty/staff success AND student success. We seek spaces of mutualism that benefit both educators and students. We don’t do educator self-sacrifice in the name of student learning. Instead, we aim to create cultures and communities of care. As such, it’s important to chat about some of the potential barriers to the Zoom chat.

Many facilitators tell me that they can’t do both the Zoom chat and the facilitating/speaking part of things at the same time. They find it way too overwhelming and/or overstimulating. Understandable. I’m neurodivergent, and I feed off the chat. It’s just the right of stimulation for me, but not for everyone.

If you can’t do the Zoom chat and the facilitation/teaching piece at the same time, don’t. Don’t do both. Set aside time at the start of your session, and perhaps at a few other pause points, where you can just focus on the chat.

But Karen, if I make time for the chat, I won’t have time for the content!

Friends, content without connection is going to get you nowhere fast. You’ll get more value from building connection first, even if that means less time on your content. I promise you that.

Once you spend five minutes setting the tone for the chat at the start of the session, you don’t need to keep monitoring it if that’s not your bag. Let the students continue to chat with each other, and you can continue to encourage them to do so. “I’m not able to concentrate on both the lesson and the chat, so I’m just going to focus on the content I’m sharing right now. At half past ten, I’ll take a short break to review the chat.”

Mutualism. Everyone wins here. You’ve built connections, students are chatting and engaged, and you’ve done so in a way that supports engagement, learning, and your own needs.

Many facilitators also like to identify a “chat wingperson.” This can be a casual position or you can ask students to sign up for the role. Again, mutualism in action here. You get some support, and students gain the valuable skill of helping to manage a Zoom chat.

In short, I think the biggest barrier I see around using the Zoom chat is that folks feel overwhelmed. If that’s the case, put first things first. And connection and engagement should always come first.

Edit: some amazing Twitter friends reminded me about how Zoom chats stink for learners who use screenreaders. Here are a few tips to address that barrier:

• Read out, or ask a volunteer to read out, a few comments from the chat over audio.
• Read out, or ask a volunteer to read out, any key themes that have been developing in the chat.
• Links to resources shared in the chat might be an issue for screenreader users. Consider sharing your slides via email or other means for easier access of those materials.
• Here’s a great collection (thanks Mandy!) of some Zoom accessibility considerations.

Online Isn’t Second Best

The Zoom chat allows for total participation in a learning experience. Can you say the same of on-site classes?

Many educators tell me that they encourage class participation by asking questions in an on-site class. When I ask them how many students raise their hands to respond to those questions, they admit that it’s only a handful, and it’s often the same students every time. While small group activities and collaboration can allow for total participation in an on-site course, it’s just not as efficient and adaptable as the Zoom chat.

You can get instantaneous total participation with Zoom chat. Students thoughts are immediate shared with you and with their peers. In a classroom of twenty students, I can know everyone’s answers to my question within about sixty seconds. That’s good stuff. Of course there’s value in slower learning as well, and efficiency isn’t always the goal, but what a tool to have at our disposal.

Some on-site educators harness this potential by having students work in a shared Google Doc on their personal devices, for example, and then posting responses on a screen in the classroom. Total participation. Food for thought. We’re so used to asking what on-site teaching can tell us about how to teach online. Let’s remember to also flip that question.

TLDR: Who is important in your Zoom classroom? Declining to use the Zoom chat communicates that you are most important. Inviting learners into the Zoom chat from the moment they enter the room creates a learning journey grounded in shared expertise, where everyone is important and valued.

What else? What did I miss? How do you make use of the Zoom chat in your teaching? What barriers did I fail to address? How can we communicate that our learners are as important as we are in our classrooms?

A few years ago, I flew home on a plane from Florida after being forced to cancel an in-person speaking engagement at the very last minute. I had once again underestimated the limitations of my chronic illness and the lack of accessibility provided “out there” for disabilities.

On the plane ride home, devastated but still fighting, always fighting, I wrote a list entitled, “Things I Can Do.” At the top of that list: I’m a great virtual presenter.

The shift to virtual conferences and workshops during COVID times has been life-changing for me and many others. Many of the “limitations” of my chronic illness vanished during this shift. Funny how that works, isn’t it? I was part of the group. I was just like everyone else. I could remain in my routine, stay as healthy as possible, and still learn with my peers.

As many organizations transition back to in-person conferences, folks who benefited from the accessibility of virtual conferences are losing out. I’ve been feeling frustrated and humbled by this challenge lately, and to be honest, torn about talking about it. It’s depressing. I’m really sad that protecting accessibility seems like an afterthought for many conferences. But I’ve learned that it’s therapeutic to talk about the things that we don’t want to talk about.

A contribution: Here’s a list of questions we can all get better at asking conference organizers, myself included. And if you’re a conference organizer, head us off at the pass! Proactively answer these questions when designing your conference and share your answers with us.

Remember, great learning design begins with empathy for the learner. Who are your learners? All of your learners. What do they want? What do they need? What are their strengths and challenges? Start there.

1. What are you doing to ensure diverse representation among your keynote speakers and presenters?
2. Will this conference be affordable for adjunct faculty? Graduate students?
3. Is this conference in-person, HyFlex, or virtual? Who does that decision prioritize? Who gets left behind?
4. Will your facilitators/presenters (the words you choose matter!) be supported in creating engaging learning experiences where learners are able to actively engage via multiple means?
5. Are you centering disabled folks and folks with chronic illnesses in your conference design decisions? How so?
6. What steps will you take to mitigate the negative impacts of your conference on climate change?
7. Are you accepting corporate sponsors, and what are the implications of that choice? Do your sponsors support racist, ableist technologies that do harm to students?
8. How are you supporting caregivers to help them make space for this conference?

What questions am I missing? How can we begin to reenvision the future of #HigherEd conferences? How might designing from the margins lead to more fruitful and inclusive conferences in the future?

Questions about conferences was originally published in Bootcamp on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.