Academics as Transformational Community Leaders

by DeWitt Scott, Doctoral Candidate at Chicago State University

In this current era of increased accountability and scrutiny surrounding higher education, there has been a great deal of questioning of the usefulness of higher education, particularly the liberal arts.  Governor Scott Walker’s attack on higher education in Wisconsin, and an increased push by businesspeople and politicians for colleges and universities to display a return on investment, has placed increased pressure on academia to prove its value to society.  While some of these arguments are illogical, it is safe to say that academics have found themselves in a battle that more than likely will not subside anytime soon.

As academics (and, in my case, aspiring academics), we find ourselves in a very unique position in terms of ability and change that we can affect.  After years and years of studying pertinent issues and concepts, through rigorous research methods that require us to validate, substantiate, and triangulate our findings, we approach the brink of expertise in our respective fields.  We have become the philosophical authority on a number of topics.  It is standard in academia to use this hard earned knowledge and status to advance our agenda and employment status within the ivory tower.  The desire for tenure, job security, peer recognition, promotion, and increased income is unmistakable.  While there is no knock on these desires, it is evident that the seriousness of today’s times requires us as experts to use our professional expertise in useful ways outside of our towers.

Many of the issues we face today in education, the economy, leadership, race relations, etc., could benefit tremendously from tangible, grassroots assistance that we could provide.  For example, there are a number of K-12 school districts that struggle yearly with devising adequate and relevant curriculum for its students.  At the same time, there are numerous curriculum and instruction scholars at nearby schools of education who have studied and done work around this issue for years.  Imagine the benefit to a community if these university professors would open community Saturday schools for K-12 teachers and administrators who need insight and improvement on curriculum development.  The theory of university professors can meet the practice of K-12 teachers to help produce a more valuable educational experience students.

Another example is the unavoidable issues in recent months surrounding police and communities of color.  Sociologists who have covered related issues for decades can facilitate community projects that allow scholars to convene with citizens and explain actions that can be taken, if any, to avoid negative encounters with the police.  Putting the entire burden on the citizens certainly isn’t the answer, but I honestly feel academics would be more successful in reaching community residents than they would police.  We could explore the idea of political scientists advising politicians, business professors working with small business owners in their neighborhoods, African American Studies professors holding evening seminars in the Black community on issues relevant to African American life, leadership scholars conducting leadership training for community organizations.  The possibilities are endless.

Through these activities we can provide leadership in our communities that is transformational.  Defined as the process of encouraging constituents to achieve more than what is expected of them, transformational community leadership provided by academics can influence communities to address their most significant challenges in ways in which community members had not previously conceived (Northouse, 2013).  By being professors and higher education professionals who do not hesitate to step outside of the elite institutions in which they work, and lend their expertise in ways that are meaningful to the community, citizens can become inspired by this work.  Evening seminars on African American issues can not only provide adequate and sufficient ways of addressing issues but it may also stimulate thinking and inspiration in a child or young adult and possibly produce a future Ph.D. recipient.  Communities that were once filled with hopelessness can begin to look to their educated, established comrades for leadership that can inspire change that at one time was unimaginable.  Our knowledge, expertise, and commitment can be a precursor to transforming our communities in discernable ways.

Essentially, what I am advocating is for more academics to seek to be public intellectuals.  The 21^st century connotation of that term usually implies an articulate scholar from a noted institution that is featured on the standard Sunday morning talk shows or who gives paid lectures to large audiences around the country.  We tend to equate public intellectual with someone who is famous.  Fame is not what I mean when I use this term.  A public intellectual who is a transformational community leader is someone who uses his/her proficiency in a given field to engage the public and improve the day-to-day lives of the people in the community.  These are scholars who are willing to give devote their energies and talent to those who may never enter the halls of academia.  From their work and thinking, these scholars can push the people in their communities to begin the path achieving more than they ever thought possible.

It is understood that this sort of work falls under the “service” category of academic institutional responsibility, and it is no secret that it is the least desired of the evaluated triad (publications, teaching, and service).  But I believe that we are living in a time where creative approaches are necessary to meet the challenges we as a nation face.  Academics are needed in our communities for leadership and direction.  This is especially true in communities of color where doctorate holders are few and far between.  In many Black and Brown communities, our scholars have become content with studying and writing about the problems rather than finding tangible ways to address these issues and affect change.  There are many scholars, of all colors, who have incomparable national recognition for their work but who are unknown to the people on the block of which they live.  The societal value of what we do as scholars can be amplified simply by using what we know and study to become visible leaders in our community.  By providing our expertise within the ivory tower and expert leadership in our neighboring communities, our value and worth as professionals will be indisputable.

References:

Northouse, P. G.  (2013).  Leadership: Theory and practice.  Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage

            Publications, Inc.

Race, Terror, and Tenure - On Collective Outrage

by Antar Tichavakunda, PhD student, University of Southern California Pullias Center for Higher Education

There’s been a lot of talk, criticism, and collective outrage about the decision to weaken tenure and shared governance at University of Wisconsin at Madison. The anger is well founded.  Scholars from institutions across the nation and across disciplines expressed their opinions and often, harsh criticism of the decision. The widespread response is not a surprise; it affects the majority of scholars and higher education, as we know it. It’s in our nature to voice our opinions on events, decisions, and policies that impact us.

Around the same time, in early June, I went on a tweeting rampage after a Texas cop pointed a gun at unarmed black partygoers and brutalized a bikini-clad girl. Of course Twitter provides an avenue to voice opinions and gauge how other people feel about an event.  A day later, I checked around the #edchat hashtags and perused different academics’ Twitter profiles to see their thoughts. Surely education scholars would want to decry police brutality.  I was happy to see that some scholars took a stand. Others however, with little more than a retweet concerning the recent brutality, were passionately critiquing the UW-Madison decision to weaken tenure.

I say this not to imply that scholars were wrongheaded to inveigh against the UW-Madison decisions.  I also do not think scholars should be mandated to tweet or broadcast their thoughts about every issue. I say this to pose a question—what is worth our outrage? I tweeted about the lopsided amount of tweets of scholars who seemed more concerned about tenure than police brutality against black children.  Someone responded to my tweet saying, “You’ll find that most of us advocate for more than tenure, at least I do.” I did not offer a response before because I did not have one.  After the racist terror attack in Charleston, SC however, I have the words.

Ironically, my words were birthed in the silence of others. Although many people took a stance, many scholars, who focus on education related issues, did not state their opinion on the matter. Audrey Watters, an education writer with a focus on education technology, tweeted, “#BlackLivesMatter and the silence of ed-tech should remind us of how ed-tech speaks with corpses in its mouth.”  The silence concerning police brutality and the Charleston Massacre in the #edchat hashtag was deafening. There is something insincere about tweeting about the best methods of blended learning when police are filmed brutalizing black teenagers. Education research is important. The lives of black students however, are more important.  Discrimination, images of police brutality, racist killings, and extrajudicial murders of black people have physical and psychological impacts.

Researchers have found that “chronic exposure to racial discrimination is analogous to the constant pressure soldiers face on the battlefield.”

Many people outside of the academy are outraged. Stewart Butterfield, CEO of Slack, rightly critiqued a Wall Street Journal article that claimed that institutionalized racism did not exist. Butterfield does not have an academic background, but as a human, was compelled to respond.  Some are calling for philosophers to be more engaged in public life. I’m calling for some scholars to do some soul searching. Tenure affects higher education as a whole. What’s happening to Black lives right now—the police brutality, the terrorist attacks, and the biased media coverage—affects more than higher education. The physical and symbolic violence on black lives are attacks on humanity as a whole.

As Desmond Tutu said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Scholars feel comfortable talking about and critiquing higher education policies because they all have a stake. You don’t need to have a focus on academic freedom to fight for it. In a like manner, you don’t need to have a focus in Black Studies to say Black Lives Matter. An egregious crime on humanity should elicit outrage—collective outrage. What good is our background in analytic thinking and research if it cannot be used to fight for humanity? Many scholars are outraged and have made it known.  If you cannot see how these attacks affect you, if you feel uncomfortable voicing your opinion, if you feel like this is out of your jurisdiction, then this blog is for you.  Your silence speaks volumes: "In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Coda

Bill Tierney, USC Pullias Center for Higher Education

I had lunch with a retired colleague today and we discussed a bunch of topics.  It’s been quite a week.  Millions of people get to keep their health insurance.  Millions of other people get to get married, or at least have it as a possibility.

As typical of older academics, I suppose, at some point our discussion turned to the diminishing numbers of tenured faculty and the changing conditions of academic work.  My friend wondered who younger faculty would have to speak with if the tenure ranks grow even thinner.

I mentioned that I knew what he was saying, but that throughout my academic life my graduate students always have been my closest colleagues.  I see them on a day to day basis; we’re all in the Pullias Center and we constantly bump into one another; I can go weeks, even months, not seeing a faculty member who is a good friend.

I’ve long said that I learn as much from my grad students as they do from me.  I also half-jokingly have said that I am a “full-service advisor.”  I don’t think advising is just about academic work, and over the years I’ve had an awful lot of conversations about an awful lot of non-academic topics in my office.  I hope I have been helpful.  I know I have learned a great deal.

However great a week it has been I have not been able to get the news about Charleston out of my head and heart.  I am not religious, at least in a church-going sense, but that he killed people in a church I found particularly unsettling, vicious, evil.

My conversation with Antar earlier this week, and then the blog he wrote, coupled with a similar conversation with my former advisee, (who is headed to UC-Riverside as a postdoc!)  Raquel Rall helped me think through what my responsibility is not to simply speak out on matters of education, but also on the tragedy that has occurred in Charleston.  We changed the Pullias Center’s website:

https://sites.google.com/a/usc.edu/pullias/

I don’t think I would have done that if I had not spoken with Antar and Raquel.  I know that what we do in the Center is aimed at equity, but the question I always ask myself is:  is it enough?  What more can I do?

Martin Luther King’s well-known statement that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice” is what came to mind this morning when I heard the Supreme Court finally ratified gay marriage.   Like most gay people of a certain age I could never have imagined it when I first realized I was gay as a teenager.  But King’s statement makes it seems that the movement toward justice is inevitable and accretionary, step by step.  Perhaps it is.  But murders such as those in Charleston make justice seem not inevitable at all – unless we hear what Antar is saying in his blog, and act. 

Summer Reading Series - Ryan Craig's College Disrupted

by Julia Colyar, Council of Ontario Universities

Too often these days, I start my mornings with a cup of coffee and a negative news story about universities. Yesterday it was a critique of paper topics at a humanities and social sciences conference. The journalist (Margaret Wente, “Adventures in Academia: The stuff of fiction,” The Globe and Mail, June 2, 2015) wondered what Northrop Frye might think of a paper entitled “Whiteness, Nihilism and Class in Grand Theft Auto V.” Ultimately, her assessment turns to the familiar topic of the payoff of university studies:

Not all humanities and social-science scholarship is this bad. But it’s no wonder that the aspirational children of new Canadians are flocking into business, science, pharmacy, accounting, and other practical studies that will pay off in a good career. They have no time for this rubbish. 

The rest of the article can be found here: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/globe-debate/adventures-in-academia-the-stuff-of-fiction/article24731318/. No doubt Wente would point to a decline in enrollment in arts and humanities programs as evidence of “not having time for this rubbish.” Indeed, though enrollment in Ontario universities has climbed in recent years, enrollment in arts and humanities degree programs has decreased by about 5%. This “crisis in the humanities” has been a topic of interest across North America for a number of years.

I’m not sure the humanities are in crisis—I think it depends on who you ask and where she or he is located (institution, discipline)—but I do think the public discourse related to “practical studies” and “university studies” is troubling. Ryan Craig (2015), in his recent book College Disrupted, wonders: “Will degrees become as impractical and amusing as debutantes?” (p. 98). Craig is concerned about returns on investment, among other things. He argues that a university education is increasingly unaffordable and without clear knowledge and skills outcomes. Part of the high cost of university education, he argues, is that institutions have bundled too many non-education expenses into their budgets—expenses like campus buildings, dining facilities, athletics, research and a growing number of administrators. Academic content is, to some extent, also bundled. Craig notes that “the content bundle includes remedial course work, general education courses and advanced courses in the major” (p. 99). Taken together, content and functions are paid for by (too-high) tuition and fees. Unbundling is similar to shopping for music on itunes: a consumer can buy a song rather than the whole album. Craig believes an equivalent arrangement is not only a good idea for universities but an inevitable future.

Unbundling detaches “all the things universities have taken on that don’t relate to student outcomes” (p. 99). Unbundling will decrease costs for students (and institutions), improve outcomes, and better prepare graduates for jobs. As part of unbundling, Craig advocates for more online courses and programs, competency management platforms (which allow students to map expeditious pathways into their job choices), and double-click degrees (“a degree that is accompanied by a transcript that an employer can double-click on to learn a lot more about the course and the competencies the student has demonstrated” (p. 115). In sum, Craig argues, “colleges and universities need to prepare to satisfy students who are increasingly looking for proof of the return on their tuition investments, or how their programs connect to jobs and income” (p. 119).

There is a lot more in College Disrupted to think about. His early chapters—before turning to the unbundling part—include important points about costs to students and families, online teaching and learning opportunities, student debt, and the problem of graduation rates. Because I am interested in student access, and in particular access for students from low-income backgrounds, I read the first few chapters with great interest. It is certainly worth thinking about how increasing access to college has not necessarily happened in parallel with increasing graduation rates at US institutions.

However, unbundling, as Craig presents it, is built on the foundation of instrumentalism and an insistence on direct connections between degrees and jobs. Unbundling would rid a university education of “all the rubbish.” I wouldn’t argue against degrees as stepping stones to employment success, but I don’t think the link should be, or needs to be, that overt. A degree is bundled. A degree includes breadth and depth experiences. A degree provides learning experiences that are hard to measure and likely include career preparation, not just job placement. It seems worth noting that degrees, in name, literally signal broad experiences: students earn bachelor of arts or science degrees (among other degree types), not bachelor of History or bachelor of Chemistry degrees.

Universities are also bundled, though not all students participate in each of the elements. What is perhaps most interesting about Craig’s book is the ways he critiques the expensive “extras” universities now offer, but also identifies them as valuable parts of his own undergraduate career. His discussion is replete with co-curricular tales of his years at Yale, including the tidbit that he met his wife in a first year literature course. A bundled experience was good for him, I guess, but isn’t necessary for students today.

Craig and Wente’s focus on job outcomes for graduates, and their various critiques of the ways in which universities mis-educate students and over-charge, is certainly not new. The public discourse about rising costs and graduates working at Starbucks has been around for many years. It seems these kinds of presentations are challenging to respond to. And though I disagree with the idea of unbundling (as well as the ascendency of “practical studies”), I appreciate the questions both Craig and Wente raise. Craig asks: “Which of these items [the content bundle, admissions, research, facilities management, housing, health care, credentialing, food service, athletic facilities, career guidance and placement] should be at the core of a university?” (p. 100). Wente wonders: “I wonder what Northrop Frye would make of modern English studies?” Both questions seem like something university community members might talk about.

Craig, R. (2015). College Disrupted: The great unbundling of higher education. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Wente, M. (2015, June 2). Adventures in Academia: The stuff of fiction. The Globe and Mail. Retrieved from : http://www.theglobeandmail.com/globe-debate/adventures-in-academia-the-stuff-of-fiction/article24731318/

Do Black Lives Matter to Higher Education?

by Tracy Lachica Buenavista, California State University, Northridge and Maria C. Ledesma, University of Utah

We have been charged to write a blog to be distributed to and read by students and colleagues in the field of higher education. The intention behind the blog is to engage educational researchers to better understand, consider, or address a contemporary topic, as well as the way in which we might approach our work. If we are lucky, our blog might inspire others to think more deeply about their own work. Thus, for our blog, we want to call attention to higher education scholars and practitioners to think about why Black lives matter and how their work reinforces (or does not reinforce) this sentiment.

Omnipresent in contemporary debates around police brutality, surveillance of black and brown bodies, and the myth of the American Creed, is higher education. Take for instance the following contemporary moments of social injustice that prompted rampant protests regarding the devaluation of Black lives.

Michael Brown was just 18-years old when he was chased down, shot, and killed by police officer Darren Wilson in Ferguson, Missouri. Before his murder, he was on the verge of beginning his postsecondary career at Vatterott College – a proprietary institution with notable donors such as Mitt Romney and with a history of targeting low-income and working class students of color. While debates emerged regarding the relevance of Brown’s college plans amidst police violence against Black bodies, we feel it is important to acknowledge his higher education aspirations in context of the dismal postsecondary opportunities for Black Americans. We question the way in which Brown’s aspirations were used to assign increased value to his life, and the ways that for-profit institutions prey on hope, while offering only limited opportunities for communities already placed at risk.

Martese Johnson, a 20-year old student at University of Virginia, suffered a head injury after he was unjustly accused of public intoxication and using a fake I.D. to enter a bar frequented by UVA students. He was brutalized by officers with the Virginia Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control (ABC), an entity responsible for regulating the state’s alcohol industry and policing alcohol crimes, and with similar enforcement powers as police officers. Johnson’s victimization became national headlines only after video was released that captured the graphic violence ABC officers unleashed against Johnson as he bled and pleaded with his perpetrators. Johnson, who is an active student leader on campus and a member of various honors organizations, reminded us that the racial macroaggressions committed against students of color in postsecondary contexts are not divorced from the larger maltreatment of Blacks in the U.S. History reflects how, too often, Black lives are considered expendable. And how their absence in higher education is pathologized to blame the victim rather than questioning and holding accountable the very systems that produce such disparate outcomes in the first place.

Freddie Gray was 25-years old when he was illegally arrested by police, subjected to a fatal spinal cord injury, and died while in police custody in Baltimore, Maryland. Gray is the latest high profile victim of police brutality. Indeed, in the course of the last year the death, or more aptly, the murder of Black lives has become a type of public spectacle. Whether by T.V. or computer screen, anonymous voyeurs tune in to bare witness, albeit from a safe distance, no accountability necessary, to stare at state sanctioned violence. Unpleasant truths are easy to ignore if these are not your reality. But once you see them, once you know of them, are they not your responsibility?

In response to Gray’s death, Johns Hopkins University President Ronald Daniels released a statement calling for an investigation into Freddie Gray’s death. Among other things, he said, “Our university takes seriously the opportunity and obligation of our role as an anchor institution within Baltimore. But as the events of the past week remind us, there is more to do.” Echoing President Daniels, we also believe there is much for us in higher education to do to emphasize and teach how and why Black lives matter. Such a task belongs to us all, not just to faculty of color or to African American and/or Black Studies Departments. Black lives matter across all fields and disciplines; they matter just as much in the sciences as in the humanities. If we are to live up to higher education’s democratic aspirations, Black lives should matter to us all.

Indeed, if the Black Lives Matter movement is to be more than hashtag social activism, we believe that we in higher education also bear a responsibility to ask ourselves:

What is the state of Black lives on your campus? 

Do Black Studies exist on your campus? 

How is the diversity of what constitutes Blackness reflected in the curriculum and programming at your institution? 

(How) Are Black students, faculty, staff, and administrators being recruited and retained? 

What are the ways in which your institution socially, politically, and materially supports Black students, faculty, staff, and administrators? 

What relationship does your institution have with Black communities if at all?

What have you done to respond, address, and/or participate in the Black lives matter movement? 

How has this movement informed or inspired your work?

We challenge you to think about how you, your community, or institution, are concretely working to answer these questions and to make Black lives matter on your campus. We acknowledge that addressing injustice can be overwhelming, however small acts are as important as revolutionary actions. And, in the end “what you allow is what will continue.”

Organizational Change and Survival through Collectivism and Critical Agency Networks

by Judy Marquez Kiyama, Assistant Professor of Higher Education, University of Denver

Earlier this year I attended a scholarship dinner aimed at raising funds for a local community-based organization. The venue for the dinner, like the organization itself, was in the center of a low-income/working class, Latina/o community.  This particular organization focuses on making higher education accessible regardless of immigration status. As I took in the powerful stories and community activism that permeated the event, I looked around and realized that there were people sitting at each table who have been active and present in my own educational journey since my transition as an undergraduate student at the University of Arizona. These same people remained active, present, and engaged over time and were here supporting another equity-based educational cause. And the network has grown; this dinner included supporters from multiple education institutions, professionals in the community, family members, and children.

Fast forward a few months and I found myself back in this same community collaborating again with a university-based outreach program that works with K-5 families to provide college access information in an effort to cultivate college-going practices. The program partners with a local school district, once again rooted in a low-income/working class, Latina/o community. I quickly realized many of the same people who are responsible for the development and sustaining of this particular outreach program were also in attendance at the scholarship dinner. The program has cultivated cross-departmental collaborations inclusive of faculty, staff, students, and K-12 administrators in ways rarely seen in higher education organizations (see Kiyama, Lee, & Rhoades, 2012). Jenny Lee, Gary Rhoades, and I have termed these groups “critical agency networks.” These networks are relational, activist in nature, cut across different department cultures and administrative silos, and work towards organizational, equity-based change.

The particular outreach program referenced above is in its 12^th year and has served over 1000 families. The program must patch together resources and operates on a minimal budget that has not increased over the 12 year period. In an interview with a school district administrator, she emphatically declared that this college outreach program has transformed the school district as students at every grade level have the aspirations and knowledge to make college a reality. My reflections left me with many questions. How does a program with minimal resources sustain this type of impact over time? Likewise, how does a program of this sort sustain within a rapidly changing organizational context? More importantly, what do the lack of financial and human resources allocated to outreach efforts signal about the land-grant purpose of this public institution?

It is no longer shocking news to hear that state aid for public higher education has been drastically reduced. Earlier this year Governor Scott Walker of Wisconsin revealed the plan for a $300 million cut in state support for higher education. Arizona also proposed major cuts in state support, drastically reducing funding for the flagship universities and eliminating funding for some community college systems. It is no surprise that institutions are exploring new ways to generate necessary revenue as a response. In an era of drastically diminishing resources and an abundance of neoliberal practices, how do we sustain the public, land-grant missions of these institutions?

There is no arguing that financial resources matter. However, within the particular institutional and community context that much of my research has been situated, there exists a critical, collectivist network. These collaborations continue to sustain outreach and equity-based programming despite these drastic state reductions in support, despite increases in market-like behaviors, and despite the organizational changes that have occurred at the institution over the last 10 years. Oversight for the program comes from mid-level managerial professionals (Rhoades & Sporn, 2002), yet faculty play a key role within the network.

This leads me to more questions. Are collectivist, critical agency networks one response to neoliberal policies and practices? Collective action around a need for organizational or political change is not new.  In the 1960s and 70s, the women’s liberation movement and women’s consciousness-raising groups were focused on the need for political change (Weiler, 2003). Astin and Leland’s (1991) research points to similar examples of the networks women created through professional organizations to fight for gender equity. Similarly, Hart’s (2007) work establishes the powerful role of women academics and their collective partnerships with university and community leaders to transform the academy across academic disciplines.

While the narratives above highlight individual outreach efforts, the research that I’m doing underscores the role of the networks associated with sustaining these outreach programs and the necessity of consciousness-raising through collectivism, not only for political change but for organizational change and organizational survival. These collectivist groups are developing and growing because of grassroots, bottom-up efforts (see Kezar & Lester, 2009, for more on grassroots change and leadership), all with the common goal of equity and social change in education. Given the cross-disciplinary role of faculty in these networks, I’m left wondering, will we see enhanced collective efforts on the part of faculty in response to reduced support and increasing market-like demands? What might this look like across different faculty lines and across different institutional types? Can critical agency networks and collective action become sources of support, a way to cultivate consciousness-raising, and ultimately, a means to demand organizational change?

Earlier blog posts by Ryan E. Gildersleeve (January 2014) and Jay Dee (July 2014) emphasize the need for a broader focus of research, one that explores issues of higher education organizations, administration, and leadership. Sam Museus (February 2014) called upon the importance of coalition building and collective action. Likewise, Gary Rhoades (2014) has stressed that collective agency needs to be part of a larger research agenda on professionals as “collective agency is central to catalyzing institutional change” (p. 925). Thus, together with my colleagues, Ryan E. Gildersleeve, Sam Museus, Gary Rhoades, and Gerardo Blanco Ramirez, we will explore some of these issues in an upcoming AERA session. We aim to talk not only about a broadening research agenda, but the impact of neoliberalism on faculty life, and the responses to it. We hope that you will join us for: Neoliberalism and Faculty Crises in Higher Education: The Market State, Knowledge Economy, and Professoriate (Sat, April 18, 10:35am to 12:05pm, Swissotel, Event Centre First Level, Zurich D). We will be live tweeting during the session using the hashtag #facultycrises.

References

Astin, H.S. & Leland, C. (1991). Women of influence, women of vision: A cross-generational study of leaders and social change. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

Dee. J. (2014, July 13). Organization, administration, and leadership: Addressing the relevance gap in higher education research. Community of Higher Ed Scholars, blog of AERA Division J.

Gildersleeve, R. E. (2014, January 16). Building a research program of consequence in the study of higher education (or, thinking beyond student-focused research). Community of Higher Ed Scholars, blog of AERA Divison J.

Hart, J. (2007). Creating networks as an activist strategy: Different approaches among academic feminist organizations. Journal of the Professoriate, 2(1), 33-52.

Kezar, A. & Lester, J. (2009). Promoting grassroots change in higher education:  The promise of virtual networks. Change,  41(2), 44-51.

Kiyama, J.M, Lee, J.J. & Rhoades, G. (2012). A critical agency network model for building an integrated outreach program. The Journal of Higher Education, 83(2), 276-303.

Museus, S. (2014, February 4). (Re)envisioning a collective agenda focused on systems and transformation in higher education. Community of Higher Ed Scholars, blog of AERA Division J.

Rhoades, G. (2014). The higher education we choose, collectively: Rembodying and repoliticizing choice. The Journal of Higher Education, 85(6), 917-930.

Rhoades, G. & Sporn, B. (2002). New models of management and shifting modes and costs of production: Europe and the United States. Tertiary Education and Management, 8, 3-28.

Weiler, K. (2003). Freire and a feminist pedagogy of difference. In A. Howell & F. Tuitt (Eds.), Race and higher education: Rethinking pedagogy in diverse college classrooms (pp. 215-242). Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Publishing Group.