What are the rewards of administrative work? We asked a number of our colleagues that question, and it was a surprisingly difficult one for them to answer—their initial response was usually either sarcasm or a contemptuous snort. Some who had been involved with building renovation or procurement of necessary equipment commented on the satisfaction they felt because they had created something tangible, a physical manifestation of the work accomplished, something that people could see. So much of our work is unseen and somewhat abstract that one can lose sight of its consequences. Although a revised transfer policy affects students and the institution in many significant ways, the written document does not reflect the tremendous amount of time, energy, and negotiation it took to create it, at least not in the way that a multimilliondollar library or a newly renovated student center does (Cullen, 2007).
In pondering this question ourselves, we agreed that for us, the greatest rewards have come from the individual students, faculty, and administrative colleagues whom we were able to support or promote in some way, such as reengaging someone in the department, publicly acknowledging someone’s work or success, or assisting new members in their transition to our academic community. Regardless of the role we play within our academic community, the difference that we can make in the lives of those around us, maximizing their potential for success, will always be, for us, the most rewarding part of our work. Of the many accomplishments that we could list, our most rewarding have all dealt with situations that supported community building, collaboration, and collegiality. These examples stand out to us because the creation of community and collegiality seems to be such a difficult task to accomplish in our current system.
Lucas (1994) notes a recurring theme regarding loss of community in late twentieth-century commentaries on higher education. He points to George Douglas’s analysis as the most insightful of many during this period. Douglas commented that universities were failing to provide the type of human setting in which education worthy of the term could thrive. They were too big, too full of activity to be places of authentic learning. Instead he claimed they had become factories for producing specialized expertise or for imparting information. The prevailing opinion in the 1990s was that the sheer size of modern universities militated against the creation of community (Lucas, 1994, p. 288).
We would argue that the frustration of working in higher education, in a system that seems to preclude change, is not solely the result of the size of institutions, but rather that it is caused by the paradigm that governs all institutions, large and small. The instructional paradigm we work in is not conducive to community nor to individuality or creativity. In fact, it is at odds with most of the values espoused by today’s colleges and universities. It is a paradigm that has fostered alienation and an unhealthy divisiveness between and among faculty and administration as well as between academics and nonacademics within institutions. Our paradigm must change if higher education is to change.
In pondering this question ourselves, we agreed that for us, the greatest rewards have come from the individual students, faculty, and administrative colleagues whom we were able to support or promote in some way, such as reengaging someone in the department, publicly acknowledging someone’s work or success, or assisting new members in their transition to our academic community. Regardless of the role we play within our academic community, the difference that we can make in the lives of those around us, maximizing their potential for success, will always be, for us, the most rewarding part of our work. Of the many accomplishments that we could list, our most rewarding have all dealt with situations that supported community building, collaboration, and collegiality. These examples stand out to us because the creation of community and collegiality seems to be such a difficult task to accomplish in our current system.
Lucas (1994) notes a recurring theme regarding loss of community in late twentieth-century commentaries on higher education. He points to George Douglas’s analysis as the most insightful of many during this period. Douglas commented that universities were failing to provide the type of human setting in which education worthy of the term could thrive. They were too big, too full of activity to be places of authentic learning. Instead he claimed they had become factories for producing specialized expertise or for imparting information. The prevailing opinion in the 1990s was that the sheer size of modern universities militated against the creation of community (Lucas, 1994, p. 288).
We would argue that the frustration of working in higher education, in a system that seems to preclude change, is not solely the result of the size of institutions, but rather that it is caused by the paradigm that governs all institutions, large and small. The instructional paradigm we work in is not conducive to community nor to individuality or creativity. In fact, it is at odds with most of the values espoused by today’s colleges and universities. It is a paradigm that has fostered alienation and an unhealthy divisiveness between and among faculty and administration as well as between academics and nonacademics within institutions. Our paradigm must change if higher education is to change.
