The student stories I wish more professionals and families knew.
When my role in higher education transitioned from student to practitioner, I didn't expect a huge amount of change.
Nope. That was wrong!
Somehow, the addition of a name tag and having a (shared) office to call (half) my own completely changed the conversations I had with students.
I got a look behind a veil I didn't even know existed.
In my little social bubble in college, we were all pretty similar. Most of us held part time jobs, were drowning in but somehow managing homework, and were at least 15% caffeine, but we were doing it.
My naive assumption was that that was the average experience for most of my peers.
But what I learned when I transitioned to the practitioner side of higher ed is that that idea of an average college is, in and of itself, a fallacy.
There's no way to average a student waking up at 3am every day to open a coffee shop as a full-time employee with a student who became the full-time caretaker of a special needs sibling after the death of a parent. You can't resolve the student who flew to NYC for the weekend and didn't complete her homework with the student who had so little budget leftover for food that hunger has become a distraction from assignments.
Hearing these students' stories completely changed my perspective. I'd like to share some of my realizations with you.
1. Classes aren't the only or even primary concern in many students' lives.
You may already know this. But if you don't, it's important you start broadening your understanding of the student experience.
I didn't know this until a student went off on me--and rightfully so--for chiding her about missing class regularly. On the surface, it seemed like a fair complaint to raise.
That was until she told me that, since her mother's unexpected and recent passing, she was the only person in her family who could take her special needs sibling to the hospital for weekly appointments that were necessary for her survival.
In a split second, that handful of missed classes went from feeling like the biggest issue in the room to a laughably small concern in the grand scheme of this student's life.
From that meeting on, our work together shifted. It wasn't about being the "model" student who reads every chapter and aces every test. It was about survival. We talked strategy over which assignments could be let go without tanking her course grade. We mused over how to communicate with her professor, balancing honesty with her family's privacy. We talked about how she could use the formula sheet she had for each test and the knowns and unknowns in each test question to figure out which formula she had to use so she could plug and play without spending hours studying.
It was sloppy. It was messy. It was imperfect. And it was exactly what she needed at that point.
She ended up bringing the course grade up from an F to a B, and her sibling made every single one of her appointments throughout the semester.
The thinking that students should be responsible for classes as their main focus is idealized at best. The vast majority don't have the luxury of academics being their sole concern.
When educators understand this truth and adapt their expectations accordingly, students thrive. When we don't, we do our students a major disservice.
2. We need to meet students where they are, not where they should be.
There's probably something in your life right now that isn't as far along as you'd like it to be. Imagine how different it'd feel if I opened a conversation about that thing with "Hey, why haven't you finished this?!" versus "Tell me about the progress you've made so far and how I can help you continue to move forward."
Think of that shift every single time you interact with a student.
When we meet students who are struggling, they're already painfully aware that they are behind. Admitting they need help, seeking out that help, and being open about the situation all take incredibly courage and bravery, especially for students who are encountering difficult for the first time in their educational careers.
Starting by asking them what went wrong or how they got where they are just...isn't it.
And yet that's how so many conversations are structured. Whether from parents, faculty, administrators, or a combination thereof, students are often getting more messaging about what isn't working than they are about what is.
Don't take positivity and kindness for granted.
A lesson I learned in my early years as a practitioner is that every answer, every response has some nugget that is worth praising.
Even an answer that is absolutely, completely incorrect has a redeeming quality that is worthy of celebration.
If a student hesitated before moving forward in a problem and chose the wrong path, I'd nevertheless praise them on that moment of hesitation, underlining that it meant they were growing a gut sense of the important crossroads in the problems they're practicing.
The student who seems to be veering farthest from the intended path is often the one who most needs to hear that they're doing a good job. That doesn't mean lying to the student or sugar-coating reality; what it does mean is uplifting them where you can, beginning to repair their self-esteem, and showing them that there is someone who believes in their ability to do well.
3. Students want to do well but don't have the tools they need.
This was probably the realization that hit the hardest.
I worked with so, so many students who had been toward the top of their high school class, earning As and Bs without much additional effort. Suddenly, in college, they found themselves floundering; the same processes that had worked for the last decade plus of their lives were suddenly not enough.
The gap between what students were required to do in high school to succeed and what was expected of them in college was too great to span in a couple weeks of adjustment at the beginning of freshman year.
These students wanted to do well. They were used to doing well. Doing well was part of their identity. So when things started getting hard, they were lost, and the weight of that shift often brought them to a halt.
It's difficult enough to learn something new even in the best of times. Add to that a crippling sense of self-doubt, disappointment, and overwhelm, and it's no wonder that so many students found themselves shutting down.
Really, truly helping students means taking the time to teach them the skills that almost never find their way into the classroom but are expected on nearly every assignment.
If you can help a student practice and hone these skills, you'll have made a huge impact on their lives--not just now, but in every aspect of their future goals and aspirations, too.
Closing the Gap
I had to do a lot of growing, reconsidering, re-categorizing, and listening in my early years as a practitioner working in higher education. Despite excellent graduate courses and years of professional experience, nothing really prepared me to talk with students who were navigating crises, or to comfort those who felt abandoned, or to support those who felt hopeless.
I had to live those experiences to learn them, and they made me a better support for my current and future clients.
But those students shouldn't have even been put in that situation in the first place. They shouldn't have had to explain themselves to get the realistic help they needed.
That's where we come in. We can all do better in helping each other to grow, to question and confront our own biases and assumptions, and to not only see but understand and learn how to support experiences outside our own.
That's why I want to share these stories. If all of this is old news to you, great; share what you know as widely and regularly as you possibly can. If something struck you as new, also great; embrace a new perspective and consider how it can add to your practice.
If supporting students more effectively is part of your mission, let’s talk. You don't have to start from scratch; I’ve built programs designed exactly for this kind of support.