Understanding Languishing and Flourishing with Dr. Corey Keyes

The following is a transcript of LearningWell Radio Episode 1: Understanding Languishing and Flourishing with Dr. Corey Keyes. You can listen to the episode on Apple Podcasts.

Marjorie Malpiede: This is LearningWell Radio, the podcast of LearningWell Magazine, covering the intersection of higher education and lifelong wellbeing. I’m Marjorie Malpiede, the Editor of LearningWell and your host today. Our first guest for our first episode of LearningWell Radio is Dr. Corey Keyes, the renowned sociologist and psychologist who has introduced groundbreaking work in the areas of flourishing and languishing. Welcome, Corey.

Corey Keyes: Hello and good morning.

MM: As a faculty member at Emory University, Dr. Keyes taught The Science of Happiness. He has a new book coming out called Languishing, and it’s actually available this week. Corey, let me say, I knew that you were a brilliant sociologist and psychologist, but I did not know that you were such a talented writer. Your book is really terrific.

CK: Thank you. I appreciate that. I take great pride in trying to write in a way that communicates the nuances and stories behind the numbers of our science.

MM: Well, I have to say that is exactly what my reaction was. I loved your opening, where you take us back to your teenage years and you’re listening to Jackson Brown’s “Running On Empty.” Loved that song. And of course, the reference to the King Biscuit Flower Hour. That was awesome. What a throwback. But the whole book is like that. It’s really very enjoyable to read. So anyway, big thumbs up for me as one reader, one reviewer, but let’s get into the book a bit and give a little bit of a preview for our audiences. First thing I’d like to ask you is, what motivated you to write this, Corey? You’ve been publishing for a long time, but this is really something special.

CK: Well, for a long time I’ve had a passion for advocating for better treatment and approaches to helping people with mental illness, and especially trying to get people invested in preventing it in the first place. Because I know we’re all on the same page when we hear again and again in the news that there’s a crisis in mental illness and that it’s growing. And the fact that I continue to hear about this crisis and that it’s growing, has led me to feel I’ve heard this enough, because the problem is nothing is changing. And I’ve waited and done the science for 25 years on promoting positive mental health in order to prevent, and I’ve felt that the science was solid enough, that there was enough there to write a book. And my dream is that this begins to encourage public health systems and systems like higher education, not the least of which I would also hope in public K-12 education, to begin thinking about prevention by promoting flourishing. So, my book is about trying to change the discourse and introduce another way to deal with the crisis of mental illness by promoting good mental health.

MM: Yeah, and it really does come across very loud and clear in the book. Reading it, it’s clear that it’s about the reader, so it will be about the person who could be benefiting from this information, but it’s also about all the sort of systems and institutions that influence what you describe as flourishing and languishing. I think my next question, for people who think they know the term but really don’t, I think commonly don’t, is how would you describe languishing? Because it’s not always what people think it is.

CK: No. And in fact, I think sometimes the simple descriptors don’t do it justice, because people will use the words either, “Meh,” which Adam Grant did in his New York Times op-ed, or “Blah.” And I don’t think those two terms do it justice, because I want to get back to the way I measure it, which is 14 questions that constitute measurement of the presence of good mental health, which I refer to flourishing, and languishing is the absence of some of these very important things. So to languish is not only to have lost a sense of interest in life or you’re not feeling happy or satisfied, but along with that, at least six or more things are missing in your life, like a sense of purpose, a sense that you’re growing as a person, a sense of self-acceptance that you like most parts of your personality. There’s some social components, like a sense that you are making contributions or you will make a contribution to the world or your community, a sense of belonging to a community, a sense of coherence, which is that you can make sense of what’s going on in the world around you. So, languishing is a constellation of things, but it’s the absence of functioning well, combined with the absence of feeling anything good or not feeling much of anything about your life. So in that sense, languishing is a lot more than just, “Blah.” It’s the absence of what makes life meaningful and gives you a sense that you matter and so forth.

MM: So, something you say in the book is interesting to me and it gets to that same sense of, do we really understand the language around this? So you say, “Don’t be fooled by feelings.” Explain that a little bit and how people may not understand if they’re languishing or flourishing.

CK: I think there is this obsession, and I think we in this country are particular leaders in the obsession with happiness, or what I would call the emotional part of flourishing, what I call the emotional wellbeing. This gets a lot of attention, and indeed, every year there’s what we call the World Happiness Report, which measures things like life satisfaction, “Do you feel satisfied or do you feel happy about your life?” And we rank countries based on the happiest and think they’re doing really well, and those countries that aren’t very happy. But flourishing is so much more feeling good. And I argue that if you focus only on and prioritize only feeling good, it will not be your North Star. ‘Cause I think of flourishing as my North Star because it’s what kept me in recovery from my own mental disorders of depression and PTSD, and it’s where I feel most at home. If you only prioritize feeling good without functioning well, you will not be doing well. And not the least of which is there are college students, a lot of them, about 20%, that would meet the criteria for flourishing in terms of happiness or feeling good, but they’re languishing when it comes to the criteria of functioning well. That means they have low levels of either psychological or social wellbeing, or both. And they have five times the rate of mental illness as those students who are flourishing. And by flourishing, I mean they’re functioning well. They have six or more of the criteria of functioning well every day or almost every day, combined with feeling good. So that in and of itself suggests that feeling good is not enough of a criteria or it cannot be considered a gold standard alone for doing well in life or even be considered mentally healthy. It’s not the feeling good, the feeling happy that’s really driving the benefits of flourishing, it’s the functioning well. Purpose in life, belonging, contribution, mastery, growth, and acceptance, all those good things that represent that we’re doing well in life. And so I always argue, put functioning well first and you will feel good about a life that’s meaningful and has substance.

MM: I think that’s so interesting because so many of us just think about the standards around feelings, happiness, or sadness, or excitement, or motivation, and we are not really thinking about the processes behind that. So that’s a really interesting way of looking at it. And is this really what you’d call your dual continuum model, that you can be mentally ill and mentally healthy at the same time?

CK: I review, in one of the chapters, an array of evidence that supports what I call the dual-continuum model, not the least of which is the research on the neuroscience of emotions. Now, I didn’t do this research, but I’ve reviewed it, and a lot of it is focused on negative and positive emotions, sadness in particular, and happiness. What they found in the brain is that sadness and happiness share some things in common when it comes to being activated in our brain, but they have a lot of distinctive things that go on. So when we’re feeling sad, the fact that they don’t overlap completely, meaning that when we’re sad, happiness isn’t completely downregulated in our brain, that’s not the case. We can feel both sad and happy at the same time, because they don’t share everything in common when it comes to activation in our brain. And I was writing about this very thing in my book when I realized that Susan Cain was about to publish a book as I was writing my book, and she wrote a book called Bittersweet. And I was writing about the fact that you can have bittersweet moments and feelings precisely because the brain is wired in the two continuum when it comes to just emotions. You can feel a little happy and a little sad at the same time. And on college campuses, I used to love teaching this particular part of my Happiness class during the spring semester when I had almost all graduating seniors. And as we got closer and closer to graduation, it became clear and clear that they understood this because they were feeling poignancy and bittersweet about their time at college and the fact that they now were about to leave it. They felt happy because they had accomplished something worthy of their effort and they felt sad because they were leaving behind something meaningful. So it goes much deeper than that. And mental health and mental illness belong to separate continuums. They’re correlated. But not correlated so strongly that the absence of mental illness means that you’re automatically flourishing. So, there is very strong evidence in a lot of that research I’ve done and done with colleagues, even at the genetic level, showing that we inherit two sets of genes. One set is what I would call risks, genetic risks for mental illness, and then there’s flourishing or positive mental health, which is also equally heritable as things like depression. But there’s only a modest overlap of the genetic variance or the genes for mental illness and mental health. So that means you can inherit a low genetic risk for something like depression, but the absence of genetic risk for depression doesn’t mean that you’ve also inherited a high genetic potential to flourish. But it also goes the opposite way, Marjorie, you could inherit a high genetic potential for depression, but you could have also inherited a high genetic potential for flourishing. And we now know that genes alone do not determine our outcomes. It requires environmental activation of a lot of our genes. So as I like to say, when you’re in that situation where you’ve inherited high genetic risks along with high genetic potential, you ask yourself the version of the negative wolf and the bad wolf, which one wins? The one we feed. Right? So there’s very strong evidence of the dual-continuum model, and that makes the case very strongly that even if we could find a cure, and we’re not anywhere close, even if we could cure all mental illnesses tomorrow, it wouldn’t necessarily mean everyone’s mentally healthy, and we could have just left them in another equally bad condition, languishing.

MM: So, Corey, let me just say, what I love about your work is that it gives people hope, and it looks at these issues in a way that not just destigmatizes them, which you’ve done, but also allows people to give themselves a bit of a break around this. But let’s talk about Languishing and why you wrote this, because so many people are languishing. And you talk about the pandemic and how that obviously accelerated these issues, but also, they weren’t the cause of them. In fact, I think one of the things you say is, because we were sort of sliding into languishing, it was harder for us to be resilient to what happened in the global pandemic, if I got that right? But let me ask a few questions again about the mental state and how people can get out of it. So you talk about why languishing is really a risk to your mental and physical health. Can you talk a little bit more about that?

CK: Sure. In fact, I list at the very beginning a lot of evidence that supports, I call it the 13 reasons why you want to take languishing very seriously, and why we want better mental health and flourishing. Not the least of which I haven’t focused as much on physical health, there’s a little evidence I review when it comes to aging, but the one in particular that really stood out for me is this very strong body of evidence that has to do with what’s called the conserved transcriptional response to adversity. Not my words. That’s the words that some biologists and geneticists gave to this genetic propensity we all have. And the CTRA is activated when we experience adversity, and it’s not healthy for us, because when that CTRA, forgive the abbreviation ’cause it’s a lot to say, is activated, it downregulates antibody production, which is not good. We want antibodies for our immunity, immune responses. So when the CTR is activated, antibody production is suppressed and inflammation is accentuated or activated. Again, inflammation in and of itself is not good for us. And so researchers have been looking for things that actually buffer, mitigate the CTRA when we are experiencing adversity. And here is the amazing thing about the distinction between feeling and functioning when it comes to flourishing. Feeling happy and satisfied has no relationship to modulating the CTRA, but when you have higher levels on functioning well, that is, that goes into my measurement of flourishing, higher levels of particularly psychological wellbeing, people then have a much more modulated or controlled CTRA response. It means that if you are functioning well and you are experiencing stress and demands and adversity, you are protected against the CTRA. And if you aren’t functioning well, higher psychological wellbeing, the CTRA is activated very strongly when you experience adversity. So that’s just one very strong physical underlying genetic /physical response. It’s deeply connected to the functioning well part of flourishing, not the feeling good.

MM: So, if I’m understanding this correctly, it’s almost like you can strengthen your flourishing muscle, so to speak. Right? To have some of what is happening in terms of the languishing and the conditions and elements around that, you can influence or even prevent it. Correct?

CK: Yes. In fact, there’s two studies I reviewed that I just love, one of which is in the work. And you can think of college, a university setting in the same way you can think of a workplace. And this particular study was done in Australia, and they asked workers, “Yes or no, are you currently working in a high stress or hostile, if you will, work environment?” That was the beginning of the study. And then they measured psychological distress over time, and they measured at time one their level of positive mental health. What was remarkable, is over time, if you were flourishing, working in a high stress or high conflict work environment did not result in any more distress than compared as those who are working in a low stress, low conf environment. But if you were languishing and working in a high stress and high conflict work environment, you had a markedly higher increase in distress over time than if you were flourishing. So flourishing in the work settings protected you from having stress and conflict undermine your mental, emotional life. And then there was this second study that I reviewed that followed people over a three-week period and every day asked them whether they had experienced any of several sources of stress, things like the typical sources of stressors, like there’s conflict at work, you had an argument with your boss or your spouse or your friend and so forth. What was amazing about this study, was if you were flourishing, you experienced the same amount of sources of stress as those who are languishing. And in fact, in a three-week period, 84% of the days of those three weeks were filled with sources of stress. So most days. You only had three days out of the three-week period where you didn’t have any source of stress. So everyone was experiencing stress, but then they measured negative mood that day. And here’s the remarkable thing, if you were flourishing and you experienced source of stress, you’re much less likely to have negative mood as a result of it compared to those who are languishing. If you’re languishing, those sources of stress resulted in a much more negative and foul mood at the end of the day than if you are flourishing. So it’s not like if you’re flourishing, you don’t have bad days, you have as many bad days, if you will, or sources of stress at least as those who are languishing. But again, there’s something about flourishing that protects you from having bad things really result in bad feelings. Again, we don’t know why, but then again, I go back to the following thing. Did we not need to know how smoking caused cancer in order to prevent cancers from smoking? No, we just needed to know that smoking caused cancer. And here, I’m not so interested in how flourishing protects us, just that it does, and we need more of it in our students and we need more of it in our lives, in the workplace.

MM: So Corey, I’m completely convinced that flourishing is the goal, and I think to learn how to get into that state of flourishing is part of what you do in the book, and I want to get to that. Am I correct in saying that there are kind of two elements here to unpack? One is, and I love that you do this, you talk about in your book the propensity for society to consider whether you’re languishing or flourishing to be a matter of personal responsibility. It’s either you do it or you don’t, and it’s all about you. But you do point out that many times our systems are failing us. Can you talk about that in the context of higher education?

CK: I couldn’t help but be the sociologist because I’ve been living a lot of my life in both in psychology and sociology, and I’m amazed the amount of work that’s been published in positive psychology, and psychology in general, that simply ignores the power of context and institutions and culture and values and so forth. And so it was clear to me. I talk about my own personal experience. Before I was adopted at the age 12, things were horrible for me. And I was going in one direction and it was in the wrong direction. I was in detention more than I was anywhere else after school, and I was not doing well and so forth. And when I got adopted into my grandparents’ home, it was a 180 degree change, and it was remarkable to see and I still marvel at it. I went from being in detention to honor roll student, every semester, to quarterback of the football team, playing basketball, in the choir. Something in me changed, but it was because I was transplanted in a place where I could flourish. And so I knew that was the first time I experienced flourishing. And in my dedication to my book, my whole book was dedicated to my nana and papa, who when I experienced that, they gave me the seeds of flourishing because I never forgot that. And so it’s clear to me that people are really struggling, even people in high-level professional jobs like medicine. And I write about one op-ed that just floored me, but this was not the only doctor who’s lamenting the fact that they’re having to work in a, they call, a corrupt, profit-driven institution that’s demoralizing them. Because they have to cut corners and they can’t do the things that they want to do and need to do as doctors to help their patients because hospitals are sitting on massive profits, but they’re cutting corners. And what’s happening to people is they can’t live their values. And when that happens, when they’re demoralized, you start to destroy the person that came to you with values and dreams of using their work to do good. And when you prevent people from doing and living their values to do good things through their work, you begin to destroy them. And that’s what languishing is often described as, “I’m dying inside,” or, “I feel dead inside.” Now, I won’t say that higher education is doing the same, but I do worry that, I think, there’s a lot of, well intentioned leaders, people who want students to find purpose and live their values, but I saw this firsthand, we’re grooming our youth to value one thing, money and power, by everything is boiled down to grades. And I know you’re going to say, “Well, what do we replace grades with?” But grades are all that matter because that’s all that matters to us. And at first, I was frustrated as a professor. I would’ve kids coming into my office crying because they had an A minus or a B plus. Something is wrong with what we value in higher education.

MM: LearningWell Magazine examines the intersection between higher education and lifelong wellbeing. So not just how we experience college and what happens to our mental health at college, but how college influences our wellbeing over time and over your lifetime. So obviously, it is a great conversation for anyone who cares about any of those issues. Not to put you on the spot in terms of specifics, but if flourishing is the end goal for our students, and we’re faced with the mental health crisis that we all know and are working hard to address, shouldn’t we, and what could we be doing to really try to promote flourishing on college campuses?

CK: Well, the second half of my book talks about what I’ve come to call the five vitamins for flourishing deficiency. And those five activities that flourishing people do more of than people who are languishing, which is they prioritize some form of helping others. They prioritize learning something new and growing personally, they prioritize spiritual or religious activity, they prioritize socializing or connecting warmly and belonging, and they prioritize play. Now, those five things I was just thinking about this morning before we got on, and it occurs to me that you would think that those five things are already happening on most college campuses, maybe not as much play, but wouldn’t you think every day a college student learns something new and sees him or herself growing? And I see it that college students connecting and socializing every day, not everyone perhaps engages in spiritual or religious activities, but many of them do and so forth. My question becomes, if many of the students are doing those five things already, but they’re not flourishing, what is it about colleges that may prevent those five activities from being as beneficial as they could? ‘Cause they are for adults who aren’t in college or who are after college. And I wonder sometimes if it’s just that students, like many of us as adults, would read a book like this and say, “Well, let me fit in some of these things in 5 or 10 minutes of my busy day or my busy week.” And I didn’t write it that way. In fact, I was sometimes encouraged by people around me saying, “Well, just tell people what they can do in the 10 minutes they have if it’s a typical day or a busy day.” And I was like, “No, I’m not going to do that. That’s not the way this works.” Because people who were really benefiting from those activities did more of it in that day. They helped more. They didn’t just help someone. They engaged in more helping behavior that day and they had a much better day and they stayed flourishing. And if they were languishing, or in the study, there were some people who were depressed who did more of each of those vitamins. And they didn’t have to do all five, by the way. They just picked one and they did more of that day. Even if they were languishing or depressed, they had a better day. And over time, they moved away from languishing or depression, and inch by inch closer and closer to flourishing over time. So those five activities aren’t things to just do as a sort of 5 minute or 10 minute exercise, like breathing or taking a couple deep breaths, or meditating for a minute and quieting your stress response. These are things that have to become important parts of each day. And that’s why I’m convinced, even if people on college campuses or administrators read the book and say, “Wow, I think most of my students are doing these five things, or at least three out of the five, but they’re not flourishing.” Well, it’s because their priorities are much more related to one thing, study, study, grades, grades, degrees, degrees, and the next step.

MM: So it’s almost like if institutions, colleges, and universities really made flourishing their North Star, that would really change the conditions by which students could be working to engender their own flourishing. Would you say that’s right, Corey?

CK: Yes. I could imagine a university prioritizing and measuring this and taking it just as important as GPAs and resumes, and that they prioritize those five vitamins to such a degree that they counted in the same way that taking a class is given credit and you get graded. ‘Cause that’s the one thing I learned, if students don’t get credit, they don’t think it’s important because they infer the institution doesn’t think it’s important. And so somehow, I think we need to teach these things and value them to the same degree, and measure them and monitor them in the same way that we monitor grades and provide that. And my dream, as I said in some of my writings, as when a student walks across that stage to get their diploma, we can tell them, to the same degree, that their flourishing has grown as a result of being here to the same degree that their knowledge and GPA reflects their learning. When that happens, I’m convinced students will get the message. They will learn about their own wellbeing, their own mental health, and what it means to them that the institution values it as much as they do, and that this is what you’re given as your journey through adulthood from this institution. Not just a degree, but a sense that your wellbeing is something you need for this journey.

MM: That’s awesome. So Corey, we have learned so much today, and obviously I would encourage our listeners to read the book and learn even more. When you think about all of the important messages here, who would you say you wrote the book for?

CK: Well, you will notice that this is part memoir because my research was, as I said, me-search for a better way. And I wrote this, forgive the phrase, but it’s part of my heart, for all of the lost souls. And there are many of us, and I think many of us are lost without knowing it. And there is this poem I want to read to you, this is why I wrote it. And it’s a poem written by Athey Thompson, and it’s taken from her book, A Little Book of Poetry. And I wish I’d seen this poem before I finished the book because it would’ve been the way I ended it, but here it goes. “I shall gather up all the lost souls that wander this earth, all the ones that are broken, all the ones that never really fitted in. I shall gather them all up and together we shall find our home.”

MM: Well, that needs to be the last words for the interview. That was amazing, Corey, and I thank you so much. So, we’re talking to Dr. Corey Keyes. His new book will be out at the end of February, it’s called Languishing, and it will be an important experience for anyone who reads it. Corey, we are so excited that you came and talked to us today and shared all of your wisdom. I am so grateful. Thank you so much.

CK: Thank you for having me.

Ian Elsner: This has been LearningWell Radio, a production of LearningWell, for more information about our work, go to learningwellmag.org. And if you like what we’re doing, leave us a rating or review. LearningWell Radio is engineered by me, Ian Elsner. Thanks so much for listening.

Find Your Purpose, if You Know What That Means

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Purpose is a ubiquitous word these days on college campuses. From solicited statements on applications, to alignment with one’s major, to leadership and career development, purpose is popping up in nearly every domain in higher education. There is an entire field dedicated to purpose in the social sciences and abundant research as to its benefits, and yet, what does purpose really mean to someone who is 18, or 20 or 25? 

Answering that question and applying it in the university setting has become the life’s work of Anthony (Tony) Burrow, a developmental psychologist and professor at Cornell University who runs the Purpose and Identity Processing Lab. He and his team of doctoral students are building a foundation of scientific evidence, measurement, and translation that informs the understanding of purpose so it can be incorporated into people’s lives, particularly adolescents and emerging adults. 

“Research on this topic is growing and the evidence so far is clear that having a sense of purpose promotes health and wellbeing, longevity, stronger relationships, and even increases one’s earnings,” he said. “But too few of us on college campuses are familiar enough with this literature to use it effectively to engage students in courses and experiences.”

Part of the problem is the varying definitions of purpose and the way young people are assumed to know what it is and how to incorporate it into their lives. From Aristotle to Einstein to Stanford’s William Damon, brilliant thinkers have put their mark on the term. But the rest of us, particularly the college students who are frequently asked about it, may only know it as a good thing to have or strive for without any practical application. “There is a tendency for people to assume everyone shares a similar understanding of what is meant by ‘purpose’, but when you really dig into things, people don’t always mean the same thing,” said Burrow. 

Burrow teaches a class called “Translating the Science of Purpose” to help decipher different interpretations of purpose. It starts with examining the deep body of literature around purpose: “its scholarly definitions, its demonstrated role in life’s outcomes, and what it is related to or unrelated to.” The second part of the class examines how we communicate about purpose, a powerful term that’s fluidity can be used to anyone’s advantage as often happens with political narratives. A collective sense of purpose can be called upon to evoke hope and change or a return to making things great again. 

“Purpose isn’t so much a north star as it is perhaps a compass.”

Burrow says exploring identity is an important step to understanding purpose, (hence the lab’s name), though, as a developmentalist, he is less concerned about who you are in the current moment than who you will eventually become. “We’re trying to unpack how people understand themselves,” he said. “How is that when people start to engage with the world around them, they are able to internalize some features to say ‘that’s me—that’s who I am.’ Yet, in other cases, engagements do not become meaningful aspects of ourselves? The intricacies of identity processes are fascinating.” 

For young people, these questions are particularly important, and often vexing. Burrow gives an example from his own background. “My grandfather grew up on a farm, with relatively few options of vocation available beyond being a farmer himself; and indeed he became one. For him, his identity and role were perhaps foreclosed due to lack of options. By contrast, identity may be much more of an asset today. For example, most universities offer long menus of majors and minors for young people to choose from. How should we expect they successfully navigate these choices if they don’t know something about who they are? Today, identity may be more of a requirement for navigating the experiential landscape.” 

Burrow says identity and purpose are linked, but identity is often confused with purpose when, according to Burrow, it is actually codified by it. “Identities are important because they reveal insights into a person’s motivations, interests, values, and goals,” said Burrow. “But alone, those things can be static and fixed in a particular time. Whereas a sense of purpose can organize and orient aspects of your identity toward the future, and make clearer the broader intentions that drive your behavior and decisions in everyday life.’”

Part of how the lab team defines and communicates about purpose comes from studying what they believe it is not. It is associated with altruism which is often an avenue on the purpose infrastructure but it is not a prerequisite to having purpose. Researcher William Damon defines purpose as a generalized intention to accomplish something meaningful to the self with consequences to the world beyond that. While Burrow respects the definition of his friend and colleague, he sees the prosocial aspects of this definition as but one type of purpose, among many other types available to people. A purpose could be imbued with many contents and motivations for pursuing it. Some of them will be socially desirable and others may be less so—but we shouldn’t diminish the impact of purpose for the person holding it by calling it something different. 

“By purpose, I don’t necessarily mean one role, or singular interest, or one ultimate value. Instead, purpose can be thought of as being capable of taking stock of all of those things when we put them together. It is a center of gravity for the various aspects of who we are and where we are heading. What does that look like? It looks bigger than merely setting goals.” 

Goals often get used interchangeably with purpose, but Burrow cautions against reducing them to synonyms. Whereas goals can be accomplished, doing so does not lend itself easily to knowing what ought to happen next. It is a sense of purpose that can help align goal pursuit and clarify that once a goal is achieved, which goals ought to follow. 

For Burrow, purpose is a continuous prospective state of mind – or, an intention – that propels you forward but is not ever actually accomplished. This is consistent with the theorizing of other purpose researchers like Todd Kashdan and Patrick McKnight, who articulated that purpose isn’t so much a north star as it is perhaps a compass. That is, it is a personal resource that allows you to move steadily forward through life in the direction you intend to set course. 

“To apply purpose in a practical way, the question we should be asking students is not ‘what is your purpose?’ but ‘when do you feel most purposeful?’”

On its web site, the Purpose and Identity Processing Lab states,“We believe everyone has the potential to cultivate a sense of purpose,” with links to research papers that chronicle how it can be done in a variety of settings. Burrow believes weaving purpose more thoroughly and explicitly into the tapestry of student experiences is critical work for colleges and universities. 

“Those of us privileged to work on college campuses have a front row seat to the development tasks of adolescence and emerging adulthood– observing how students answer questions like ‘who am I? what is my place in the world?, what will I contribute to it?’” said Burrow. “Without more intentionally engaging students’ sense of purpose we are leaving something important on the field. If we bother to ask students to articulate a purpose statement in admissions, why wouldn’t we ensure that we follow-up with them about how well we are helping them pursue it throughout their studies? To me, this seems absolutely vital.”

But fuzzy interpretations of purpose have allowed institutions to drop the ball on this. Evoking the term throughout the college experience might be good messaging but without the work behind it, purpose is more of a platitude than the self-organizing benefit Burrow describes. To apply purpose in a practical way,he believes the question we should be asking students is not “what is your purpose?” but “when do you feel most purposeful?” The question for colleges should then be “under what conditions on this campus do people feel most purposeful?” That way, patterns of behaviors and routines that lead to purposefulness can be identified, replicated, and more strategically integrated with course contents and experiential opportunities. 

Burrow says that Gen Z students are ripe for this kind of intervention. He and his team run the Contribution Project where students at Cornell, and now neighboring SUNY schools, offer ideas on who or what they would contribute to if given $400 to pursue their idea. One student identified buying plane tickets for their roommate’s parents who couldn’t afford to come to graduation. Expecting a handful of students to sign up when he first introduced the idea, Burrow was pleasantly surprised that close to 200 students responded. He now invites administrators, faculty and staff to participate in an end of project showcase event to provide a window into the ways students see themselves contributing. “We could be building classes and programs around what students showed us they want to do in the world. Above and beyond their role as students, leveraging their emerging identities as contributors may provide inroads into deepening their learning and connections with key concepts.”

Transformational Learning

In 2011, a consortium of faculty members at Washington University in St. Louis responded to what they saw as a glaring disjunction between theory and practice. The university was conducting research on mass incarceration, offering courses and hosting guest lecturers on the topic—but no campus program existed to address mass incarceration in their own community. The lives of incarcerated individuals were a subject of academic study, rather than an area of tangible change. Their concerns led the faculty members to found the Prison Education Project, a competitive liberal arts degree program for incarcerated students in the Missouri Department of Corrections. The project launched its first courses in 2014 at the Missouri Eastern Correctional Center, a men’s prison in Pacific, Missouri. 

The United States incarcerates more of its population than any other democratic nation, including those with higher crime rates. Missouri’s incarceration rate is even higher than that of the United States—meaning that Missouri, along with the 23 other states whose incarceration rates exceed the national rate, imprisons more of its population than any democratic nation on earth. Black Americans are overrepresented in our nation’s prisons, making up 37 percent of the prison population compared to 13 percent of the general population. Alongside race and ethnicity, education is one of the most decisive contributors to mass incarceration. 30 percent of incarcerated Americans have not attained a high school diploma or equivalent degree, and fewer than 4 percent hold a postsecondary degree (compared to 29 percent of the general population). High school dropouts are 3.5 times more likely to be arrested than adults who completed high school. The correlation continues in the reverse for those who have been released.  

“We have a huge body of research, decades-long, longitudinal studies that tell us that, yes, people are far less likely to go back to prison if they receive a college education,” says Kevin Windhauser, PhD, the director of the Prison Education Project at Washington University, who noted that students who enroll in postsecondary education programs while in prison are 48 percent less likely to be reincarcerated. 

While much of the discourse on the impact of prison education programs emphasizes reduced recidivism, Windhauser says that the benefits for individuals go beyond crime reduction. “I think focusing only on recidivism is a relatively reductive way to look at it. While we offer something to incarcerated students, incarcerated students make our university better. Our students are admitted to WashU, which means if they’re released and still working on their degree, they can continue their degree. And our students show up on campus bringing new perspectives, life experiences, and personal knowledge. They make the campus richer. They make discussions richer.”

According to Windhauser, prison education programs can improve the mental health of incarcerated students and enrich the learning environments of participating colleges and universities. He began teaching at Taconic Correctional Facility in Westchester County, New York in 2017, when he was a graduate student at Columbia University. He felt that the program was “doing something that I thought a university, especially a big, very wealthy university, should be doing: using its educational mission to reach people who traditionally have been kept out or denied access to those kinds of spaces.” 

“Our students show up on campus bringing new perspectives, life experiences, and personal knowledge. They make the campus richer. They make discussions richer.”

While many state and federal prisons have historically offered vocational training, the Prison Education Project’s liberal arts model sets it apart. “The ethos from the beginning was to create a liberal arts college in prison,” says Kevin Windhauser, “Missouri has, like many states, something of a tradition of vocational education in prisons, trades work in prisons, job training in prisons—but a liberal arts degree, especially a liberal arts degree from a major R1 university, was just not something that was on offer.” 

As an English professor in the program, Windhauser has taught courses on subjects ranging from introductory composition to Shakespeare, Milton, and Melville. Often, he says, reading the Western canon is yet another form of social capital that incarcerated people, often victims of the school-to-prison pipeline, have been denied. In part, he says, incarcerated students enrich discussions of literature due to their distinct perspectives and skills: “People who are incarcerated are often really great noticers, because it’s a space where you have to notice things. Just to stay safe in there, you have to be a very good noticer, and it means that there’s some incredible, intuitive close reading ability. With a lot of the literature I’m teaching, I’m bringing out that skill which is already there, and so I find that really exciting.”

Since 2017, Windhauser has seen higher education in prison expand into larger and better programs. “My first course in 2017, I taught once a week in a three-hour block. My students had nothing but pencil and paper and whatever readings I could print out and give them. It looked as close as I could get it to a college course. In all honesty, it may have looked a little bit like what a college course looked like in 1970.” Now, says Windhauser, his classes at the Missouri Eastern Correctional Center more closely resemble their on-campus counterparts. Students have laptops, Canvas accounts, and utilize research hubs like JSTOR. Windhauser holds regular office hours to ensure students receive individualized attention and support. Class sizes typically range from 10 to 20 students—in part to align with the program’s commitment to a liberal arts education, and also because college in prison requires focused attention on each individual student, who is attending college amid unique logistical, personal, and environmental challenges.

These distinct challenges include limited privacy, time constraints, and loud living conditions. “One of the most common misconceptions people have about college in prison,” Windhauser says, is that incarcerated students “have a lot of time on their hands.” It’s a sentiment he hears often when describing his work to outsiders. On the contrary, he says, “Missouri, like many states, requires every incarcerated person to have a job. So our students, like a lot of students on any given campus, are balancing work with study. They’re often balancing being parents, parenting from a distance, parenting by phone and by visit. They are balancing concern for others. They’re often mentoring other people or doing informal peer support work. They are dealing with environmental disruptions. A lot of people do all of their homework with music blaring in headphones, and that’s not necessarily because they love that. It’s because they’d rather have that than the din of everything going on.”

For some, a liberal arts education in prison can be a step toward healing the trauma of incarceration, giving students a sense of agency in an otherwise chaotic world within the prison walls.

Mental health and the psychological toll of incarceration also affect students pursuing college degrees in prison. “Nationwide, there’s increasing attention being paid to mental health challenges faced by college students. And I think a lot of the mental health challenges faced by incarcerated college students are somewhat similar. Yes, there are a lot of unique challenges to the space and people’s lives and the trauma of incarceration, but there are also a lot of very familiar challenges if you’ve ever taught on any college campus. There are people who are really concerned about academic performance, really worried about their GPA. There are people who are really frustrated to not be understanding something, or anxious about an exam or a particular subject. So you have this pairing with all the familiar concerns, and then they’re back-loaded with all of the unique concerns to that space.” 

For some, a liberal arts education in prison can be a step toward healing the trauma of incarceration, giving students a sense of agency in an otherwise chaotic world within the prison walls. George Putney, an alumnus of the Prison Education Project, is currently pursuing a Master of Social Work degree in the Brown School at Washington University in St. Louis. “It gives you a sense of purpose while you’re in school,” Putney says of the program, “and it extends that sense of purpose to when you exit.” 

Putney is a statistical outlier—he entered prison with a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree. While incarcerated, he began informally mentoring some of the students in the Prison Education Project. The former PEP director asked Putney to join the program, which he did, taking classes and working as a teaching assistant. The program inspired him to pursue his MSW, which he plans to use to work with formerly incarcerated people to try to assist them in some of the major areas of need, including housing, employment, healthcare, and general reacclimation to society. Putney currently works with a St. Louis organization that provides housing assistance, trauma counseling, and substance abuse training to formerly incarcerated women in Missouri.

“I think it allows a person to reach potential that they didn’t know they had. And I only say this anecdotally, but I think it allows people to reintegrate into society in a much more effective manner, where they actually have opportunities and hope of being successful.”

References

Hemez, Paul, John J. Brent, and Thomas J. Mowen. 2019. “Exploring the School-To-Prison Pipeline: How School Suspensions Influence Incarceration during Young Adulthood.” Youth Violence and Juvenile Justice 18 (3): 154120401988094. https://doi.org/10.1177/1541204019880945

National Center for Education Statistics. 2016. “Highlights from the U.S. PIAAC Survey of Incarcerated Adults: Their Skills, Work Experience, Education, and Training: Program for the International Assessment of Adult Competencies: 2014.” https://nces.ed.gov/pubs2016/2016040.pdf

Prison Policy Initiative. “Getting Back on Course: Educational Exclusion and Attainment among Formerly Incarcerated People.” October 2018. https://www.prisonpolicy.org/reports/education.html
Widra, Emily, et. al. Prison Policy Initiative. “States of Incarceration: The Global Context 2021.” September 2021. https://www.prisonpolicy.org/global/2021.html#methodology.

Digging Deep with David McGhee

David McGhee has an interesting way of looking at the world. In talking with the Chief Executive Officer of the Steve Fund, it is clear he strives to see beyond popular narratives and predetermined judgements. In his new role, he hopes to bring together “unlikely allies and unusual suspects” to continue to address the issues to which he has dedicated his career – poverty, equity, and the flourishing of young people. 

The Steve Fund is the nation’s leading organization focused on supporting the mental health and emotional wellbeing of young people of color. McGhee believes his previous work in government, community service, and philanthropy prepared him well for this work which he calls “the crisis of our time.” Since its founding in 2014, The Steve Fund has been a major influencer in higher education’s ability to understand better the determinants of mental health issues in young people of color and their unique help-seeking behaviors, with research and recommendations such as the Equity in Mental Health Framework, which they created with the Jed Foundation. 

McGhee plans to strengthen the organization’s commitment to transformational change by focusing on outcomes as opposed to outputs, the former being the more sustainable result. To get there, he wants to expand the Steve Fund’s partnerships with people and organizations that he says need to be part of the conversation but may not have been invited in. He talks of enabling a set of conditions that make any strategy possible. It is an approach that McGhee learned early on as a young black man navigating poverty on his way to achieving his own personal outcomes.  

David McGhee

Marjorie Malpiede: What was your career trajectory before coming to the Steve Fund? 

David McGhee: My background is primarily in philanthropy. It really set the direction for the course of my career. After earning my undergraduate degree in public administration and public policy, I set out to work in the nonprofit and government sectors focusing on child wellbeing and also influencing public policy. Having come from concentrated poverty myself, I bring to this work a commitment to transformational change so that opportunity becomes systemic, not random or transactional. This is where my passion lies. 

Early on, I was an intern in the executive office of Michigan’s first female governor, Jennifer Granholm. I had an opportunity to meet the governor, and we were in her office, and I remembered something she had on her wall. It was a receipt from a lawn care service she had employed when she was running for Governor and the lawn care provider had written on it, “Don’t forget the little people” and she framed it. I was just an intern, but I actually believed I had the most important job in the executive office. From 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM every single day my job was to open every piece of mail addressed to the governor, read it, either route it to their proper department or craft a response on behalf of the governor. That job helped me develop an understanding of rural poverty as opposed to urban poverty. I knew what urban poverty was. That was my lived experience. But this helped me understand residents’ concerns throughout the entire state, which in many ways is applicable across the country. Those things really stuck with me. 

Following my internship, I was offered a job with the governor which I respectfully declined. Many people thought that I was crazy but I came back to my local community in Detroit to work at Big Brothers Big Sisters and I did that for seven years. In the neighborhood I grew up in, if you wanted out, you either played sports or you sold drugs. I had had the opportunity to go to college and it was important for young kids in my neighborhood to see that. From there I had an opportunity to work for a member of Congress and I learned a lot. I knew the amount of money that sat in the federal government and how hard it was to trickle down. I knew what nonprofits needed. And then I found my sweet spot in philanthropy. I worked seven and a half years in private foundations, and spent about a year and a half in family foundations, working for a high net-worth family in Seattle, Washington.

MM: Now that you are at the Steve Fund, what are your main priorities?

DM: The Steve Fund exists to promote the mental health and emotional wellbeing for our young people, and, in our case, young people of color. I’ve also layered in not only promoting, but really protecting the mental health and emotional wellbeing of this population. And we do so in three ways. One is by transforming environments. We know young people will occupy environments, whether it’s college campuses, or employer partners, or the community. How do we make sure that we can support the transformation of environments so young people feel as if they belong? Two, we provide resources and skill-building to ensure that families, caregivers, and young people themselves actually have the tools and resources to navigate this life at this moment. And then lastly, we shape the field by normalizing the conversation around mental health. How are we removing the stigma around it? 

My job is to strengthen these assets by creating a set of enabling conditions that are really ensuring that there’s organizational efficiency and effectiveness. We are one organization in this entire ecosystem contributing to the overall mental health and emotional wellbeing. So how do I make sure that we can manage every aspect of our organization towards a unified whole and achieve the results through performance efforts? How do we commit to organizational learning and agility? We need to be flexible. We need to be nimble and responsive in this moment. 

I think the term diversity has become so politicized that we need to ask the question in a different way: Is there any population that faces a disadvantage in achieving what this institution sets out to achieve?

And then importantly, how are we catalyzing and supporting strategic partnerships? How are we bringing together unusual suspects and unlikely allies? How do we establish, encourage, and engage in partnerships that build continuity, otherwise unattainable on our own? And this to me means being willing to go into places other organizations may not be willing to go, to have conversations other organizations may not be willing to have, and to have those conversations with different audiences that some people may shy away from. 

MM: What, in your opinion, are some of the things young people of color need in order to thrive in these environments? 

DM: What do I believe young people need? If there was a magic wand that I had, then I could identify a handful of things that would contribute to better outcomes – but I might start with agency, readiness and connection. I think young people would benefit from agency to be able to make decisions on their own to feel empowered. I think they need to be prepared to take advantage of opportunities presented to them, and I also think that the environments they go into need to be ready. I fundamentally believe that when we want to work towards the power of achieving outcomes, they’re achieved in one of five ways. Either change behavior, shift attitudes, create better conditions, improve knowledge, or equip people with more skills. If a young person enters an environment that has prioritized these things, at least some of these things, I think that they are set up for success.

To really understand this better, we are continuing to rely on one of our strengths – and that is to use survey research to examine the attitudes of both students and families. We think it’s an important time to ask these questions coming out of the pandemic and the post affirmative action decision. It also allows us to explore different issues within different population groups that maybe we hadn’t thought of before. For example, I’ve become fascinated by the lack of data – or at least what I’ve been exposed to – around student athletes. Have we thought through what it might mean for a young person whose skills and gifts and talents have earned them a college scholarship, but they now find themselves in a campus environment that’s totally different from the environment that they were reared in? What does it mean for an inner city Chicago student to now be at the University of North Dakota? Just using that as an example, or vice versa. What does it mean for a standout high school student in Iowa to find themselves in New York City? Some of it is different by race for sure, but some of it is also situational.

Another area that’s rarely explored is the different generational issues among students of color. There’s some first-generation college students whose families see this as such a phenomenal opportunity that a lot of the skills and the resources and support they have are beyond measure, right? However, depending on your environment, there’s a level of stress and anxiety for non-first generation college students. What if I’m a fifth generation college student and everyone in my family had a history of performing at Yale and then I’m here and my experience is not quite the same? 

I think this notion of “unusual suspects and unlikely allies” can start with identifying the person you think is less likely to contribute to this conversation and creating a reason why they can contribute to the conversation.

MM: You strike me as someone who looks beyond the obvious or the commonly accepted. Would you say that’s true?

DM: Yes, though it is not to suggest that I’m right, but I actually think it comes from my experience: one, having to navigate poverty, because I always had to find another way. I just naturally had to find another way. But then it also came from my decade or so in philanthropy. Many philanthropic organizations throughout history were complicit or had simply gone along with current conditions. But many of our nation’s wealthiest foundations and their respective namesakes built their wealth by defying the odds — by not going with the status quo. Henry Ford said, “Many, many moons ago, if I would’ve asked the people what they wanted, they would’ve told me a faster horse.” 

How do we strike the right balance between, “yep, this is what’s presented. This is the status quo” to have we thought about, have we considered, there’s also a layer beneath that? If we don’t dig, we run the risk of not getting the full story. I think this notion of “unusual suspects and unlikely allies” can start with identifying the person you think is less likely to contribute to this conversation and creating a reason why they can contribute to the conversation. 

MM: Are you hopeful we can bring different viewpoints together in these polarizing times?

DM: One of the best leaders that I’ve ever known and worked for, a woman by the name of Tanya Allen, would often give this analogy around 70, 20, 10, especially when it came to coalition building and alliances. It was this notion of 70% of the things that we want for children, even if we’re on a different perspective or different side of the aisle, we can agree on. There may be 20%, depending on the day or the context, that we’ll never agree on, right? And there may be 10% that’s negotiable depending on what the conditions are. The problem is – oftentimes we start at the 20% as opposed to starting at the 70%.

MM: Issues related to diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) obviously impact the mental health of young people of color. What is your opinion on the way this is being debated in higher ed today? 

DM: I actually don’t think it’s a diversity issue that we need to solve. I actually think it’s a disparities issue, because the minority today could be the new majority tomorrow. I think the term diversity has become so politicized that we need to ask the question in a different way: Is there any population that faces a disadvantage in achieving what this institution sets out to achieve? In a college environment that exists to provide a high quality education, is there any population here that suffers from some type of disparity in their ability to receive that? And can we get to a place where we agree on minimizing those conditions?


To learn more about the Steve Fund, visit stevefund.org

Let Them Scream!

On campuses and in communities worldwide, students and young adults are protesting in the name of justice. Over the past ten years, we have seen college students protest after officer-involved deaths of Black Americans, for climate justice, and for the rights of women domestically and globally. While the hearts of students and community organizers are warmed at the sight of students protesting, for many higher education administrators, campus protests raise concern. Concerns that students will destroy property, students will physically clash with other groups or campus police, or that students will disrupt the learning environment. In turn, many administrators attempt to quell protests before they get started. The irony is that many of our current higher education administrators were once student protesters themselves. Some were silenced by their administrators, while others persisted amid attempts to silence them. So why silence the efforts of today’s students? 

Students have been protesting and exercising activism strategies on college campuses since the 1960s. During the Civil Rights Movement, college students were involved in the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), and they were instrumental in their communities and Freedom Summer(McAdam, 1988). Students protested the Vietnam War and Apartheid in South Africa. Many students who participated in protests during the 1960s, 1970s, and early 2000s have become state and federal legislative leaders and higher education administrators. I argue that while many former protesters might not participate in protests or demonstrations anymore, many still participate in other forms of activism. They intentionally choosenot to support private sector businesses that do not align with their values (boycotting), sign petitions, donate their time and resources, and/or use their platforms and spheres of influence to advance justice whenever possible. 

Some of the Boomers or Gen X-ers, who serve in many higher education leadership roles, might say that the world has become more violent and that protesting on campuses can quickly get out of control. While these concerns might prove legitimate in some cases, these instances should be treated as outliers and not the norm. I offer that persons (administrators, parents and families, or community members) might be equating protests with riots. Riots specifically involve violent features such as the destruction of property and are often not connected to a broader justice-oriented goal. Conversely, many protests are peaceful and empowering spaces, including those that our current college students attend and organize. 

Late millennials and Gen Z-ers currently populate our campuses. The issues they are facing are not new, such as calls for racial justice among minoritized racial and ethnic groups, war, and the erasure of women’s reproductive rights. What is different is that the United States of America they are experiencing is the most divided we have seen in decades, and extremism is a constant presence in our socio-political environment. If the world they are facing is reaching such a critical point, why would we quell their voices? 

Dr. Samantha Smith

Research has shown that participating in protests can increase students’ sense of belonging, identity development, and positive mental health outcomes.

Allowing students to scream in the name of advancing justice is deeply aligned with the values of higher education. Research has shown that participating in protests can increase students’ sense of belonging, identity development, and positive mental health outcomes (Smith et al., 2023; Hope et al., 2018; Ballard & Ozer, 2016). In higher education, we want students to feel like they belong to a community. Participating in activism, such as protests, allows students to be in a community with other people who share their same values and can provide them with meaningful connections to others. Being in community with others can promote feelings of racial pride (Phoenix, 2020). Additionally, protests can act as a source of education and exposure that allows students to develop a sense of how they want to influence their communities during or after college. Students might also garner feelings of hope and empowerment(Smith et al., 2023; Ginwright & James, 2002). Hope and empowerment have been shown to be protective mental health outcomes (Griggs, 2017). Protests also provide an emotional catharsis for students (Smith et al., 2023; Ballard & Ozer, 2016). 

The elements of protesting that help to generate these positive attributes are the ability to gather around a shared cause and to freely use their voices at whatever volume they choose (Smith et al., 2023). Also, hearing from speakers or hearing the stories of others impacted by the subject of the protest enhances the communal experience (Smith et al., 2023). 

We must use strategies to help students engage in conflict with love and empathy in their hearts.

While many institutions might argue that students should use traditional forms of civic engagement to exercise their voices, I argue that activism and civic engagement are not in contrast. In fact, these two concepts must work together intimately to truly advance justice. Disruptive forms of activism, such as protests and demonstrations, are used to grab the attention of lawmakers and those in positions of power. Civic engagement can capitalize on the work of activism to increase voting and discourse with change-makers. Similarly, higher education administrators can support student protests and uphold institutional values. 

I hope today’s administrators who were once protesters, and those who still protest, will remember how it felt to scream for what they believed in. Administrators must encourage students to use their voices. However, with the increased knowledge and insight about the mental and physical toll of fighting for justice, administrators must also encourage students to practice self- and community care during and after protest participation. 

Supporting an environment where students are encouraged to engage in activism, such as protesting, does not mean we abandon the values of our institutions. We must denounce and challenge actions and ideas such as discrimination and bigotry. In some cases, we must acknowledge that there are two sides to an argument and that multiple truths can exist simultaneously. We cannot erase the pain of history. However, we also cannot allow difference and conflict to make us forget our humanity or believe that change is impossible. We must use strategies, such as restorative practices and intercultural dialogue, to help students engage in conflict with love and empathy in their hearts.

References

Ballard, P. J., & Ozer, E. J. (2016). The implications of youth activism for health and well-being. In Contemporary youth activism: Advancing social justice in the United States (pp. 223–243). ABC-CLIO.

Ginwright, S., & James, T. (2002). From assets to agents of change: Social justice, organizing, and youth development. New Directions for Youth Development, 2002(96), 27–46.

Griggs, S. (2017). Hope and mental health in young adult college students: an integrative review. Journal of psychosocial nursing and mental health services, 55(2), 28-35.

Hope, E. C., Velez, G., Offidani-Bertrand, C., Keels, M., & Durkee, M. I. (2018). Political activism and mental health among Black and Latinx college students. Cultural Diversity & Ethnic Minority Psychology, 24(1), 26–39.

McAdam, D. (1988). Freedom Summer. Oxford University Press.

Phoenix, D. L. (2020). Black hope floats: Racial emotion regulation and the uniquely motivating effects of hope on Black political participation. Journal of Social and Political Psychology, 8(2), 662–685.

Smith, S. A., Arria, A. M., Fryer, C. S., Roy, K., Green, K. M., & Dyer, T. V. (2023). “It Just Felt Nice to be Able to Scream”: A Qualitative Examination of the Experiences of College Students Participating in the Black Lives Matter Movement. Journal of Adolescent Research, 07435584231202216.

Mindfulness: Coming to a College Near You

Around the turn of the century, psychiatrist Holly Rogers noticed an emerging trend among her student clients at Duke University. Many of them were coming into the student counseling center with a variety of mental health problems driven by what seemed to be a lack of resilience; an inability to sit with discomfort, distress or disappointment. She concluded that helping her students develop the coping skills needed to confront these emotions would lead to a myriad of benefits, including alleviating what would soon grow to be a capacity crisis at college counseling centers across the country. 

Nearly a quarter century later, Rogers’ professional observation has become a personal mandate to help address some of what today’s college students are struggling with – including anxiety, depression and loneliness. She is even more convinced today that practices such as mindfulness can help many college students regulate their own wellbeing in a world that has only become more stressful. She and her colleague, Libby Webb, the former associate director of counseling and psychological services at Duke, founded the Mindfulness Institute for Emerging Adults (MIEA) to bring the evidence-based program in contemplative practices developed at Duke to colleges and universities around the country.

“Something more has got to be done,” said Rogers, MD. “There needs to be a top-level paradigm shift to change the culture on our campuses so we don’t have academic success over here with all its metrics and then ‘here’s a few things we do for wellness.’”  

Rates of anxiety and depression reported by college students have been on the rise for more than a decade, and the responsibility of addressing the crisis has been largely laid at the door of college counseling centers. But capacity problems have coincided with a growing recognition that subclinical emotional issues can and should be addressed by opening up the circle of care on campus, and that combatting the college mental health crisis requires adding a preventative, public health approach, along with a treatment response. Enter mindfulness. 

Holly Rogers, MD
Libby Webb, MSW

Like many ubiquitous terms, mindfulness could stand to be better explained before it can be fully embraced. Based on age-old contemplative practices found in most religions, notably Buddhism, mindfulness is defined as a mental state achieved by focusing one’s awareness on the present moment, while acknowledging one’s feelings, thoughts, and sensations. Its broad appeal in today’s frenzied world is its ability to calm the mind through practices such as mindful breathing, meditation, body scans, and intentions of gratitude. 

“Mindfulness is the skill and capacity to bring our minds to the present as opposed to galloping towards the future or dwelling in the past,” said Webb, MSW. “And doing so with a non-judgmental awareness of where our minds tend to go. You just notice it and bring your attention back to the present.”

Mindfulness has become a big business, complete with YouTube channels and celebrity endorsements, and it is clear the practice can work for people of any age. But Rogers and Webb believe it is particularly beneficial for emerging adults: traditional college-age students who are navigating emotional land mines such as test anxiety, social media-induced self-doubt, and vulnerability to substance use. “What we know about this developmental stage is that it is filled with ambiguity,” said Webb. “‘Who am I? What do I care about? Who am I going to love?’ And we know that the brain doesn’t like ambiguity. It detects a threat, so it’s a time of high unease.” 

Webb says that because their brains are still fluid, young people are more adept at flexing into other patterned behaviors if exposed to them. Skills-based practices like mindfulness can calm their brains, which helps them make better choices, examine their purpose, and identify what is important to them. In 2023, the American Council on Education strongly endorsed mindfulness programs with supervised practice in its report, “What Works for Improving Mental Health in Higher Education,” adding to a strong body of evidence already in the literature.

“Research is showing us more and more that this capacity to be in the moment reduces suffering and improves attention,” said Webb.

For several years, Duke offered the program developed by Rogers and her colleague Margaret Maytan, MD, in the form of a four-week, opt-in course, involving a teacher and group discussion.  While it was slow to catch on, it eventually took on waiting lists. They called it Koru, a Maori word used for an unfurling fern frond symbolizing stability in the center of unfolding growth. With refinements to the curriculum over the years, they began an effort to assess its effectiveness in 2012. The results of its randomized controlled trial were published in the Journal of American College Health and became that publication’s most downloaded article in 2014, around the same time the Healthy Minds survey showed a solid upward trend in mental health problems among college students. In the trial, students who had taken Koru reported a reduction in stress, an increase in restfulness, and a greater sense of self-compassion, among other findings.  

Skills-based practices like mindfulness can calm their brains, which helps them make better choices, examine their purpose, and identify what is important to them.

Interest in practices like Koru on college campuses has grown steadily since then, motivating Rogers and Webb to leave their positions at Duke to focus full-time on expanding the program through a “train the trainer” model. Individuals from other universities began coming to the center, recently renamed MIEA, in Durham, NC, where they receive training to become MIEA-certified teachers and then go back to their campuses and offer the courses in a variety of forms. 

Since the pandemic, MIEA has offered the certification program online, which has accelerated the number of schools and individuals participating in the program. Rogers said that MIEA has now trained 1,500 teachers in 14 different countries and taught over 70,000 students. Institutions range from the Ivies to community colleges. You don’t have to have a clinical background to become a MIEA teacher, only some background in contemplative practices. If you don’t, they will help you cultivate one.  

MIEA’s first non-Duke client was Harvard University, which continues to offer a variety of classes each semester and has 12 MIEA-certified teachers within its Center for Wellness and Health Promotion. “I have been teaching MIEA classes for over 10 years,” said Amanda Ayers, MPH, Harvard’s Director of Health Promotion. “It is such a joy to see the changes that students make in just four weeks. They are able to be more present in their everyday lives, spend less time on social media, and are kinder to themselves.” 

How mindfulness practices are taught and who chooses to teach them illustrates their versatility and low barrier to access. In an environment as siloed as a college campus, mindfulness curriculum like that offered through MIEA can weave through departments and requirements – a credit-bearing course here, an elective there. Mindfulness teachers are often connected to traditional fields like health promotion but can include anyone in any discipline who sees the value of improving student wellbeing. Evidence on the connection between mindfulness and attention attracts professors and academic advisors worried about student disengagement and burnout.

“You can embed this curriculum into your first-year seminars, your physical education classes, or as an extra credit elective,” said Rogers. “We have faculty in business schools who are offering the curriculum in conjunction with their academic material.”

The individualized nature of the MIEA program is both an advantage and a challenge. The curriculum, which comes with an app and a teacher dashboard, takes different forms at different price points. To date, MIEA’s business model is to sell the program to individuals within schools such as faculty or staff working in the wellness center who might use professional development funds to pay for it. Rogers points out that this case-by-case model lacks the consistency and traction needed to make mindfulness a universal benefit. Professors get busy. Funds dry up. The team is now offering the MIEA program directly to institutions at a much larger scale, hoping the urgency of student mental health will spur a university-wide commitment to wellbeing.  

“We’re asking universities to make a commitment both to us and to their teachers if they want to really make a difference on their campus,” said Rogers.  

Mindfulness in Action

Eric Teske directs the Office of Health and Wellness Promotion at Indiana University, Indianapolis. His interest in the MIEA program came from his desire to “take pressure off of the counseling center” by offering a program that could be taught by trained teachers to students who could be helped in non-clinical contexts. After hearing a presentation by Libby Webb during the pandemic, Teske was determined to get a number of people on campus trained and certified through MIEA. Making it a free professional development opportunity was an added incentive. He funded the trainings through a grant from the state’s Division of Mental Health and Addiction.  

“In helping students understand their own thoughts and feelings, we are equipping them with self-regulatory skills, self-management, and that is all part of alcohol and drug prevention,” said Teske, MS, CHWC, who urges institutions in other states to explore the use of similar public funding.

The person who brought Libby Webb to IU was Nancy Barton, MS, a senior lecturer in the School of Health and Human Sciences’ Department of Kinesiology. With a background in meditation, Barton had been interested in becoming MIEA certified but didn’t find the time to pursue it until the pandemic,when the online option provided an opportunity — and even more students were reaching out for help. 

“Once I got it [the certification], I really wanted to work with my university to see it take off,” she said.  “So many people would say to me, ‘I am really worried about the mental health of my students, but I don’t know what to do.’ Now I could say,‘here’s something you can do.’”

Teske and Barton were part of the university’s Wellness Coalition, an ad hoc group of wellness enthusiasts who informally met to strategize about tactics to use on campus. Another member was Lisa Angermeier, PhD, MCHES, a senior faculty fellow in the Institute for Engaged Learning, which focuses on first-year experience and high impact practices. Together, they led an effort to embed the MIEA curriculum as a pilot program into selected sections of the first-year seminar. Now, the course is not just a credit-bearing option in the Department of Kinesiology, but a required course for first-year students.

“We wanted to offer students more tools, right from the beginning of their college experience to help them deal with the stress they will encounter,” said Angermeier. “But we also see this as something they can take with them and use for the rest of their lives.” 

An assessment of the program indicates that 62% of the first-year students found the program to be valuable. The team considers this statistic a positive outcome, considering that students do not opt-in to the program. Requiring mindfulness courses is a matter of debate among experts, with some saying it takes away from the self-agency of the practice, but Angermeierviews it as a way to plant a seed of self-care, even for those students who may be reluctant. Equity was another driver. 

“Oftentimes with opt-in programs, we see that the students that get there first come in with more social capital while those who lag behind lose out,” she said. “These are the students who often need it the most.”  

Valencia College in Orlando, Florida is also utilizing the MIEA curriculum. One of the largest, multi-campus community colleges in the country, Valencia is diverse, both in terms of its students and in the broad range of developmental stages in which they come to campus. Marcia Roman, EdD, ThM, is a counselor and faculty member at Valencia, where she and her colleagues do case management-type work, connecting students to clinicians when necessary and providing workshops and skills-based training. She said the MIEA curriculum “blended beautifully” with their model.  

“Our students can learn basic skills that you might even describe as mechanical – like how to breathe in a way that activates the parasympathetic nervous system, which will calm them down – but it’s more than that. For some, it has been life-changing. With mindfulness, they can move through the difficulty in their lives as opposed to all the manner of ways we try to bypass it. And they can do so without tremendous cost and with little risk.”  

The accessibility of mindfulness is one of its biggest selling points and something Rogers and Webb are promoting before potential higher education clients. Vivien Roman-Hampton, MSW, LICSW, is MIEA’s new Director of Outreach and Teacher Development. Part of her job is encouraging MIEA teachers to become trainers with a particular focus on bringing in people with diverse backgrounds.  

Roman-Hampton believes that when colleges and universities offer these services to students of all backgrounds and abilities, it says to them, “We see you and we want to support you.”

“My focus is on ensuring that the practices are accessible to anyone who isn’t what we would call ‘mainstream,’” she said.

Her interest in MIEA is personal. A clinician who works with clients from marginalized communities and is from one herself, Roman-Hampton was drawn to MIEA’s work because of its low cost and long-term benefit. “So much about self-care costs money, and that becomes a barrier to people,” she said. But Roman-Hampton initially questioned the lack of diversity among the training staff, which she said would be an issue for her clients. When she expressed her concern to Rogers and Webb, they encouraged her to help diversify the practice, and she joined them officially two years ago.    

Roman-Hampton believes that when colleges and universities offer these services to students of all backgrounds and abilities, it says to students, “We see you and we want to support you.”

Asked if mindfulness programs offer a particular benefit for marginalized groups, she said, “I think the practice allows us to sit with things that might be really difficult — like how the world sees us versus how we really are. And while we can most definitely work to create change, it is also exhausting, and not everyone will change as a result. But that doesn’t mean we have to keep absorbing it the way we have historically. Mindfulness is a way to sit with suffering but not let it destroy you.”

Loss, Grief and Homework

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When Joey left his hometown to attend a prestigious out-of-state university, his mother was in hospice care for a rare sarcoma, a terminal cancer affecting the body’s soft tissues and bones. Two weeks into his freshman year, her nurses warned the family that Joey’s mother was in the final days of her life. Joey returned home, and his mother died the next day.

Joey’s mom had encouraged him to go to college, find community, and engage academically and socially with his campus. In the wake of her death, he no longer knew what that looked like. Joey went back to school one week after losing his mother, uncertain of his options and fearing the academic consequences of missing classes. When he emailed a dean at his university to explain his weeklong absence, an administrative assistant wrote back, asking Joey to provide a copy of his mother’s obituary.

“I didn’t want to dig myself into a deep hole in my first semester,” Joey says. “My university didn’t really know what to do with me, so I went back after a week. That’s when things really started to go downhill.” He describes feeling “indirectly rushed” to return to campus, having no knowledge of the university’s academic accommodations or leave policies. No one from his university’s administration reached out to make Joey aware of his options for support in or out of the classroom. He did not know until his second semester, after months of depression and isolation had taken a toll on his transcript, that he could have been graded on a Pass/Fail basis, allowing him to proceed with a clean slate. 

“My grades were very poor,” he recalls. “I had no study habits whatsoever. Seeing my GPA, seeing that it didn’t reflect the kind of student I am, it just made me more depressed. And then socially, it also took a huge toll. I was living in my dorm room most of the time.” Watching his grades drop over the course of his first semester, Joey says, compounded the cycle of anxiety, overwhelm, and pain—but what choice did he have? Without clarity on his university’s policies on grief and bereavement, Joey believed his only option was to keep going, soldiering on through the daily slog of academia, held to the same standard as his peers.

Death is a sensitive subject even for family and close friends, often leaving us at a loss for words, choosing to say nothing for fear of saying the wrong thing—so how should a college or university respond when a student loses a loved one? That question, at once ethical and practical, is the driving force behind UGrieve, a new initiative by the Parmenter Foundation designed to help colleges support students as they navigate the loss of a loved one while balancing academic and social commitments at a time when they may be living away from home for the first time. 

Established in 1949 as a provider of medical care in MetroWest Massachusetts, the Parmenter Foundation offers end-of-life and bereavement programs, resources and education, as well as grant funding for other nonprofits that provide services such as grief support groups for all ages, guidance for educators, and hospice care. The foundation launched UGrieve with interviews of three college students who describe feeling isolated, disoriented, and unsupported while grieving on campus.

Video provided by the Parmenter Foundation.

“Our understanding, based on anecdotes from bereaved students, parents, and also counselors and administrators, is that higher education institutions do not have systems, policies or protocols in place to support students who have experienced a death in their family,” says Angela Crocker, Executive Director of the Parmenter Foundation. “It seems colleges and universities can be accommodating to students who are grieving, but only if the students know what to ask for and whom to ask.” 

The confusion and ambiguity that accompanies students reentering campus life after losing a loved one is an additional stressor for grieving families. “We’ve talked to moms who have lost a husband who say, I’m grieving. I’m in shock. And then my son needs to go back to school, and I feel like I’m sending him into a black hole, and nobody’s looking out for him,’” says Jennifer Siegal, Communications and Programs Manager at the Parmenter Foundation.

The fear of sending a student back into a “black hole” of grief and bereavement protocol is far from unfounded, as Joey’s experience lays bare. Colleges tend to be pro-active only when a death (usually of a student) occurs on campus, assuming that what happens at home falls outside their institutional responsibility. As a result, according to Crocker, bereaved students are not only emotionally gutted, but often left feeling pulled between family and school obligations. 

“Colleges and universities can be accommodating to students who are grieving, but only if the students know what to ask for and whom to ask.” 

Joey’s older sister was their mother’s primary caretaker while their dad worked, he says. She made the preemptive decision to take the entire fall semester off from school, because she did not know when her mother would pass away. Joey describes feeling torn, longing to be at home to grieve with his loved ones but fearing falling behind in his academics. He reminded himself that his mother had encouraged him to make friends and “make his mark” on campus, something that seemed impossible as he struggled just to stay afloat.

“When college students have to confront the loss of a family member, they are immediately pulled between their two worlds of school and family life,” said Crocker, who noted the chasm is even wider for international students. “This pull is aggravated by geographic factors, multi-faceted academic demands, and oftentimes by the uncertain timeline at the end of their loved one’s life. No one is prepared for this. Colleges and universities need to understand this painful dynamic and provide balance and support—not demands—to students who are grieving.” 

Another barrier is the disconnect around bereavement and mental health support on campus. Siegal and Crocker emphasize that bereavement is a component of mental health, yet as colleges have increased cultural awareness and attention to mental health, grief and bereavement have been largely excluded from the conversation—despite the fact that the death of a loved one is correlated with a higher risk of depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, and compromised physical health due to chronic stress.

How to Help

Colleges and universities do recognize the need. According to Siegal, administrators and decision-makers in higher education have expressed uncertainty surrounding best practices—they, too, operate in the dark, without a clear, universal protocol for students. “We saw that there was a demand for support in this area,” Siegal says, “so we started to put a program and initiative together. We interviewed students and created the video just so people could see that there really is a case for this work, and data show there are hundreds of thousands of students losing a loved one each year. This is not a small problem.”

“When college students have to confront the loss of a family member, they are immediately pulled between their two worlds of school and family life. Colleges and universities need to understand this painful dynamic and provide balance and support—not demands—to students who are grieving.”

The UGrieve program provides data and information about bereavement and makes recommendations to colleges on how to “build compassionate campuses” through policy changes. The UGrieve program urges colleges and universities to implement a “point person” to inform students of their options, communicate with professors, and coordinate accommodations as needed. The point person, she says, would ensure that grieving students will not be forced to make hurried decisions about their academic futures without full knowledge of the school’s policies and the resources available to them. “College students who have suffered a loss experience a sense of grief and isolation that inhibits them from navigating their classwork, effectively communicating with professors and accessing even the resources that are readily available on campus,” says Crocker. “Colleges and universities can overcome this disconnect by assigning a single point of contact to guide a grieving student on every accommodation available to them.”

Additionally, Siegal says, universities can implement training programs for faculty, staff, and students to make it easier for them to approach conversations with people who have lost loved ones. “It can be awkward,” Siegal acknowledges. “If someone brings up the death of a loved one, a roommate or professor won’t always know what to say.” Trainings and educational resources, she says, can create a grief-ready campus. The UGrieve mission is to “build compassionate campuses” where bereaved students are not neglected as they struggle to navigate classwork and social lives in a time of grief. On a compassionate campus, faculty will be better prepared to accommodate students who lose a parent, caregiver, or sibling. Bereaved students will have a point person to direct them to campus resources. Roommates and friends will be better equipped to recognize signs of isolation and depression.

UGrieve suggests that the first step to creating compassionate and informed campuses is to include grief and bereavement in conversations about mental health, including legal conversations. In 2023, several U.S. senators, including Massachusetts’ Edward Markey, introduced the Student Mental Health Rights Act, which would require the Department of Education to issue guidance to institutions of higher education to ensure compliance with federal law on mental health disabilities. But for some students, there is a glaring gap in the legislation: “It mandates colleges to provide accommodations for students who have anxiety, depression, substance use disorder, and they don’t include bereavement,” says Siegal. “So we’re working to compel them to include bereavement in the legislation. The accommodations they are proposing for supporting students with mental health struggles are very similar to what we are recommending for students who are grieving.”

With advocacy and hands-on resources, the Parmenter Foundation hopes all colleges and universities will examine the strength of their bereavement programs and consider them an important part of creating compassionate campuses.

After his mother was diagnosed with cancer, Joey says, “She fought till the very end. She wasn’t willing to give up or back down without a fight. It’s still a huge inspiration. When I’m thinking about giving up, or when I’m at my lowest point, I always think: What would my mom say? What would my mom do?

When Joey returned to school for the second semester of his freshman year, he arranged a meeting with the dean of students and the dean of the business school. He described his experience, telling them that it was the experience of many students who were suffering in silence, not knowing where to turn for help. He says the deans listened: they wanted to do better. They listened to a student who had felt neglected, left to fend for himself—and they took his suggestions seriously, proposing new protocols for grief support with the goal of making campus resources clear and accessible to all students.

Now a finance major with a minor in economics, Joey has cultivated a sense of belonging and hope on campus, living a life beyond his dorm room. “I don’t hate this school,” he says. “I love being here. It’s a great fit for me. I just wanted to make it better.” He has worked with UGrieve to build a compassionate campus for future students, who he says he hopes “will be treated the exact opposite” of how he was. For Joey, a compassionate campus is one where students can spend time at home to grieve with their families, knowing that they will be accommodated and welcomed back to campus; where students know who to reach out to and where to go for help; where professors have built-in procedures to grant extensions and forgive missed work when a student loses a family member or caregiver. And a place where an administrator will be less likely to ask a student for his mother’s obituary as proof of death.

To learn more about UGrieve, visit https://parmenterfoundation.org/ugrieve/.

Can Belonging Be Designed?

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After Adrienne’s first year on full scholarship at an Ivy League university, she just wanted to go home.

She knew she should be grateful, though she also knew grateful was a complicated and somehow inappropriate response to the placement she’d earned through hard work. She couldn’t put her finger on why she didn’t feel at ease at the school; she certainly wasn’t the only mixed-race first-year student from a lower-income family. She didn’t particularly want to return the following year, but her mother wouldn’t let her consider transfer options. This was a full ride at an Ivy. A Wonka golden ticket.

Now a senior, Adrienne says school is “fine,” with the enthusiasm of someone settling for an overcooked burger. Her mother can’t help wondering if she would have been better off somewhere else. “But who’s to say whether it was the school, or her shyness, or the fact that she’s majoring in the classics and philosophy—probably not the easiest place for a Black woman to feel like she belongs,” she said.

Psychologists call belonging a universal human need, a critical component of wellbeing and success in all arenas of our lives—academically, professionally, socially, and so on. When a student struggles to understand course material, there are visible red flags, and any number of pragmatic supports. When a student struggles to connect to a place and thrive, vague euphemisms don’t really flag a solution. It wasn’t a good fit. Things didn’t resonate. It was fine. 

For his 2019 book The Inequality Machine: How College Divides Us, journalist Paul Tough looked at the role of elite colleges in economic mobility for low-income students. And then he examined the interventions that haven’t quite succeeded in getting them to go, even if they very likely could have been accepted with a great aid package. And then, importantly, to stay.

One of the most impactful examples Tough highlights is the University of Texas, where student retention and four-year graduation rates had been an area in need of improvement. UT’s efforts were initiated in 2011 by then-president William Powers, Jr., whose graduation task force produced a report “that showed the institution to be deeply out of balance.” It illustrated significant gaps in retention and graduation rates between different demographic groups on the Austin campus: the students whose families had higher incomes were mostly graduating on time, and the kids from lower-income families mostly weren’t. Thirty percent of first-generation students at UT dropped out or were dismissed before they could complete their degree.

Chemistry professor David Laude dedicated himself to raising graduation rates among Pell-eligible students. His approach: introducing multiple programs to orient freshmen, provide summer supports, expand mental health services, and customize tutoring. 

“Laude’s kitchen-sink approach did make a difference for students at the University of Texas—and the evidence for its success comes not just in the stories of individual students. The data support it, too,” Tough wrote. “Those campus-wide four-year graduation rates were the numbers that led the press releases and earned headlines at UT in 2017 and 2018. But what made David Laude proudest was the fact that the biggest gains in UT’s four-year graduation rate came among the categories of students whose rates were the lowest. Pell-eligible students at UT improved their four-year graduation rate from 40 percent in 2012 to 61 percent in 2018.”

By 2023, the rates had soared to 75 percent. Dr. Laude’s student success initiatives were based in part on community-building, which he found to be a critical component for those who experience “belonging anxiety.” Schools trying to understand troubling retention statistics — particularly in under-represented populations, lower-income families, and first-generation students — typically look to a wide range of data while reading between the lines of SATS and GPAs. They may be equally well served by asking, “What do we have in place to make all students feel like they belong?”

Belonging by Design

Stanford’s Hasso Plattner Institute of Design, more casually known as the d.school, is no stranger to applying design thinking to solve problems that, a generation ago, might have been called intangible, squishy. In terms of design, problems refer to challenges that get in the way of products, services, and systems meeting people’s needs. Those needs could be building anything from better public policy to a more effective vegetable peeler. At the d.school today, it can also be the engineering of spaces, events, and practices that are better designed to evoke a sense of belonging.

​Susie Wise is an educator at the d.school who specializes in designing equity into the educational and social sectors. When the school decided to roll out a series of books on design insights and creative approaches—small inspirational tomes like Drawing on Courage and Creative Hustle—Wise was asked to contribute Design for Belonging. Published in April 2022, it is a guide to using the tools of design to create greater inclusion within groups of people in just about any setting, including campuses and classrooms.

“Instead of questioning your belonging, you can question the resources to help you — what are they, where are they, who are they?”

​“It was written for anyone hosting a community to show that belonging is something you can think about no matter what you’re creating. It was also meant to be provocative for designers, who I think have responsibility to think about whether their systems create more belonging, or inadvertently creating othering,” she says. “Nowadays it’s very normal in the design space to think about the environmental impact of something you’re creating. So part of my effort was to remind designers that a belonging lens is actually a really important one to think about, and particularly for folks who work on diversity, equity, and inclusion and are feeling stuck.”

​Wise is fully aware that belonging is a feeling, and that you can’t design a feeling. But, she says, you can ask people to think back on the environments and circumstances where they’ve felt most welcome, and drill down into what contributed to it. She’s also well aware that you can’t design away exclusionary behavior. However, you can consciously design environments that lay the groundwork for inclusion.

In her book, Wise identified two umbrella categories of opportunity for inclusiveness. The first is being attuned to moments of potential belonging (or not) – namely, key times when something begins, ends, or is changing in a community. These include some predictable moments, like the way an entrance is made into a room or event, with either a welcoming greeting and signage, or a physical barrier or checking of credentials, a sort of “bouncer” effect. The way conclusions and exits are handled can also leave a positive or negative impression, with someone feeling either valued or uncomfortable. 

​“Think about the difference it makes when you are made to feel awkward or judged for having to leave a class or event early. Now imagine if the professor or moderator mentioned at the outset that if attendees had to leave before the end – because let’s face it, people often have good reason – they can find the materials in a certain place online and are welcome to drop by their office at another time,” said a chemistry professor in the University of California system. “I mean, I’ve been to yoga classes where you’re given the hairy eyeball for having to slink out early. And I’ve been to others where the instructor says, ‘If you have to leave early, please be sure to give yourself a little stretch first and a moment of Savasana.’ What a difference it makes, offering up front that you’re trusting the person’s reasons for doing what they’re doing.”

The list also includes subtler moments that can fly under the radar, such as “code switching.” This is when people have different ways of speaking and behaving in different groups – it could be language, or dialect, a looser bearing, or humor – and is a marker of belonging to more than one culture. When and how it’s used can either include or exclude someone—signaling familiarity and identification, or otherness. 

​“As a moment of belonging, code switching can be both a powerful resource and an added weight to bear, and is likely experienced as both at times,” Wise writes. “By seeking to notice and understand code switching in your community, you effectively give voice to the many groups and subgroups that are part of people’s identity. This is a huge win for belonging.”

Key moments of tension can also serve as an opportunity for positive impact, like instances of disagreement. For someone to dare to speak up in dissent in a community, they risk being ostracized. But if they feel confident of their position, and they remain included and accepted even while introducing conflict, and it’s a strong indicator of belonging.

“This was one example of belonging in the student journey Susie described that really stuck with me,” said Kate Canales, chair of the department of design at the University of Texas at Austin. While working on research and writing for the book, Wise spent time in a “microresidency” in Canales’ department conducting workshops with students and faculty, both collecting information and sharing the principles of her research. “She said a part of belonging was being able to dissent. That if you belong in a community, and feel accepted and valued, you’re able to disagree with that community without being expelled. Since so much of higher education has hidden power and hierarchy, it was very relevant to many who heard her. You could see people thinking, ‘Oh, okay, we really need to rethink the way we perceive certain things.’”

​The second umbrella category of opportunity for belonging is one Wise calls “levers of design,” tools you can use to make it easier to move toward your goal. The trick is creating concrete experiences, environments, modes of engagement, or even tangible objects (such as food, clothing, and devices that have value or meaning to the group). These are things you use, circumstances you manipulate – in the language of design, levers you push – to create a desired effect. 

​The use and architecture of shared space is a critical one. Wise uses the example of a skateboard park to illustrate the many ways the ramps and seating offer a multitude of opportunities to enter, watch, and participate in the space as an insider. Sensory playgrounds are another example of public space designed with accessibility in mind for children sensitive to overload. For educational or professional environments, space designed for belonging could include moveable furniture and walls, lighting options that allow for dimming clusters, bright overheads, and seating near windows and natural light; areas conducive to talking, tables useful for spreading out work, and armchairs that invite more ease and relaxation. Other design features could include media and signage that can be customized, and changeable boards that allow for leaving behind personalized traces of ideas.

“If you belong in a community, and feel accepted and valued, you’re able to disagree with that community without being expelled.”

​“Our design department is one of the new tenants in an old historic building that’s been restored after being vacant on campus for like 40 years. So we were a huge contributor to the design process, and we’ve let the student experience dominate the way it’s set up to behave around collaboration,” says Canales. The resulting space for the design school is at the furthest extreme from, say, a shushed law library. “We mostly have open flexible spaces where everything is movable and the tabletops are butcher block work surfaces, so there’s permission to use your hot glue gun or whatever else you want to do. It really looks and feels different from other spaces of higher education anddispenses with the formality and makes it accessible and welcoming to use the square footage the way you’d like.” 

​Levers of design might have elements of levity, but don’t mistake them for gimmicks. Like most aspects of design for belonging, they are about authentic connection that makes its users feel understood and at home rather than put off by structures and systems that are distracting reminders of “otherness.”

​“I use the book to help people who are training to become teachers so they can think of moments and levers to increase the sense of belonging in their classrooms. That’s not something enough secondary teachers think a lot about—it’s more associated with elementary—but these kids desperately need connection. And many teachers don’t see it as part of their job to connect kids,” says Nora Wynne, an instructor of the secondary education program at Cal Poly Humboldt and a learning specialist at the Humboldt County Office of Education. 

Wynne brought Wise and her book to classes, conferences, and workshops, and led book groups with administrators, faculty, and parents. “No one’s saying this is a brand new or revolutionary idea. They’re saying, ‘Oh my God, of course.’” 

​At Texas Christian University, Jonathan Benjamin-Alvarado works as the chief inclusion officer, and is always looking for ways to move beyond the typical spectrum of DEI matters. “I’d had exposure to design thinking previously, and I thought, ‘These ideas are low-hanging fruit, some real grist to make an impact on campus.’ I want to get past the lip service to have more meaning,” he says. 

When he read Wise’s book, he immediately saw the practical application of the stories and ideas for the institution, which recently hired a new president. 

“We have a mechanism for data collection, and we are already seeing an uptick in people’s reported belonging,” said Benjamin-Alvarado. He calls the book’s reception at TCU a tremendous win. “HR, my department, and the president are all supporting taking a deep dive on liberatory design. For me, that’s hitting the triple word score in Scrabble.”

​For students, particularly those like Adrienne whose marginalized identities make them vulnerable to feeling isolated, Wise’s most salient piece of advice may be about the way belonging is perceived. 

“In a time of difficulty, one of the first things you might do is question your belonging,” said Wise. “But instead of questioning your belonging, you can question the resources to help you — what are they, where are they, who are they? How can I talk to my professors? So it becomes solution-oriented, rather than a first reaction of parachuting out of a place because you assume you don’t belong there.”

Not to Be Overlooked

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For more than a decade, the cost of college tuition in the U.S. has been steadily rising as enrollment continues to drop. Higher ed’s price tag, now averaging $33,000 per year after financial aid for private universities and $19,000 for public ones, is one factor driving away prospective students reticent to bet their degree could one day pay itself off. According to new research taking into account both the earnings and debts of graduates, the wealth gap between college degree-earners and high school graduates is in fact closing. That message is not lost on prospective students of lower income or minority backgrounds for whom the stakes are even higher. 

Among this group of students at greater risk of not realizing the gains of a college degree are those from rural communities. They are often first in their families to go to college and less exposed to the opportunities that surround students in urban economic centers. For university leaders hoping to regain the public’s trust in higher education, one possible avenue to explore is an increase in experiential learning opportunities. By facilitating outside-the-classroom professional experiences for students before they graduate, experiential learning may help raise the value of a college degree, in practice and perception.

“Historically, internships and other experiential learning opportunities have had greater participation among more privileged students with larger networks,” said John Volin, Executive Vice President for Academic Affairs and Provost at the University of Maine, who is spearheading an effort to expand student internship opportunities through the newly created Rural Careers Pathway Center.  “Given the value of these programs, particularly in terms of career readiness and attainment, it’s more important than ever to make a greater effort to expose less connected students with these opportunities earlier and more frequently.”

Appearing on more and more college campuses nationwide, experiential learning is a hands-on approach to education designed to allow students to “learn by doing.” It promotes projects, spanning research, internships, travel, and performances, that bring classroom material to life.  

But the practice doesn’t just offer a new, engaging way to learn. It’s many benefits include creating life-long wellbeing, helping with retention, and providing pathways to obtainable careers. 

At the University of Nebraska at Kearney (UNK), students are required to take one designated experiential learning class before graduating, thanks to a mandate by the Higher Learning Commission which is instituting a project to improve campus outcomes. “Experiential learning has been shown to have so many benefits for students,” said Beth Hinga, UNK Assistant to the Senior Vice Chancellor for Academic Affairs, who spearheaded the experiential learning course requirement launched in fall 2020. “It keeps them enrolled, so retention rates are higher. Satisfaction rates with their education are higher.”

Career-oriented experiential opportunities may help reassure families concerned about their children’s job prospects after college.

At the rural and smallest campus in the University of Nebraska system, this potential boost for career development and attainment is especially meaningful. Four in ten UNK students are the first to attend college in their families, who tend to come from farming backgrounds. Without many other professional connections but with what Hinga called “a “phenomenal work ethic,” these students often thrive doing independent work and are able to foster positive service-learning or internship experiences that lead to employment down the road.

Hinga said she also notices a correlation between experiential learning engagement and job attainment. “These students tend to get jobs quicker after graduation,” she said. “Or, at least in some cases, what we saw is that our students were being offered jobs at the same locations where they interned.” According to UNB’s outcome data, 48% of college of business and technology students who completed an internship were offered a full time position with the company they interned with. 68% of these offers were accepted.  

As a result, career-oriented experiential opportunities may help reassure families concerned about their children’s job prospects after college. “What I’m hearing from students is that [experiential learning] is a really valuable opportunity for them to show their parents that there are jobs out there that let them do these kinds of things that they want to do,” Hinga said. “The parents get excited because, ‘Gosh, my students do an internship and it’s paid,’ and so they’re able to help pay for their own school and those kinds of things.”

In the rural setting, experiential learning may also be mutually reinforcing for students and the local community. “So many businesses have been great about welcoming students in to do those internships and I think a lot of these students are making a very positive impact on them,” Hinga said. Impressed by how much the young students can offer, employers have continued bringing in more. “Those are the students that they want to hire.”

Moving forward, Hinga said she hopes the university can begin introducing younger students, in their first and second years, to experiential learning. “Students have told us that if they could get those experiences earlier in their college career, it would help them to make sure they know what the proposed career they’re thinking about is all about and make sure it’s really what they want,” she said. 

The University of Maine at Farmington (UMF), another small, rural campus within a larger public university system, has embraced experiential learning as an engagement and retention strategy for some time. In October 2020, a $240 million gift to the UMaine System from the Harold Alfond Foundation spurred a $20 million student success and retention initiative called UMS TRANSFORMS, which centers on experiential learning opportunities, starting with “Research Learning Experiences” (RLEs) and moving onto “Pathways to Careers.” RLEs allow student to pursue research as early as their first semester, while Pathways creates professional preparation and work opportunities.

As early as their first semester, UMF students can engage in professional development through not only traditional work or internship experiences but wider career exploration. In a first-year course focused on sustainability, for example, students visited Maine Hudson Trails and Sugarloaf Mountain to speak with the respective director and sustainability coordinator about each of their job trajectories. In another course called “Popular Horror Narratives,” a unit on horror video games included a visit from one indie video game designer, who spoke about her experience developing a break-out game.

At a school where nearly half the student body comes from first-generation backgrounds, this chance to consider and connect with potential career routes can be transformational. “I think it’s so great for the students to hear from people who aren’t coming from a privileged background, given a lot of our students are coming from rural Maine,” Steve Grandchamp, who taught the course on horror narratives, said. “They can hear, ‘Okay, well, how could you get into this industry?’ Or, ‘how can you kind of forge your own path in all of these different creative ways?’” 

As those who do this work in places like Farmington, Maine and Kearney, Nebraska attest, engaging rural students in real world experiences that can lead to post-college opportunities may also serve to address another challenge for higher ed: letting these students know, “We value you.”

UF Quest Hits Its Stride

In his UF Quest course “Soccer Explains the World,” Professor Quinn Hansen brings first-year students through the history of the game, from its origins as a gentlemen’s sport in British public schools to its emergence as a vessel for fervent patriotism to its current status as a multi-billion-dollar business. Hansen says what starts as an engaging exploration of a popular and relatable topic becomes a series of thought-provoking discussions about a host of issues ranging from equity in education and child labor laws to gender politics, nationalism, and what it feels like to be a player bought and sold like a commodity. 

“It’s a bit of a bait-and-switch,” said Hansen, a linguist who also teaches Portuguese. “The topic is what excites the students, and when everybody is excited, great things happen in the classroom.”  

If Hansen’s class feels like a typical small-group elective offered at a liberal arts college, it is meant to. It was designed specifically for UF Quest, part of the general education curriculum at the University of Florida, recrafted over the past several years to create intimate, interactive learning communities within the large land-grant university in Gainesville. The intent behind UF Quest is to provide students, particularly FTICs (first time in college), an opportunity to learn how to learn from faculty who know their names before settling into the more impersonal tracks dictated by their declared major.  These classes typically involve critical thinking and robust debate about some of the world’s biggest problems, a process the web site describes as “engaging students in questions that are difficult to answer but impossible to ignore.” 

“With Quest, students begin a journey to understand what their potential roles are in answering some of these questions, whether it’s obvious to them or not” said Angela Lindner, Associate Provost for Undergraduate Affairs, who has led the development of Quest since her arrival at UF in 2015.  She is the first to admit it has been a hard-won endeavor.  At “Quest Day” in November, which commemorated the program’s 5-year anniversary, Lindner told an enthusiastic crowd, “My colleagues throughout the country repeatedly say to me ‘how in the world did you pull this off?’” 

Getting to Quest

Lindner is an engineer by training with a PhD from the University of Michigan and fond memories of her liberal arts undergraduate experience, which included strong relationships with her professors.  She was drawn to the school because of its student-centered culture and its early adherence to a core shared curriculum. In scouring historic catalogues (the university graduated its first class in 1857), she took as inspiration an adage that aligned with her philosophy on the developing student. “The choice of professional work is postponed until the student knows better his capacity and disposition to undertake work that will be profitable to himself and society…avoiding the handicap of narrow specialization,” it read.  

Lindner’s own adage was to “leave them alone” in their first two years as they transition from the black-and-white of high school to the gray abstract of the university.  This, and the belief that liberal arts-like experiences can happen anywhere, drove her to create the vision for what would eventually become UF Quest. 

But general education reform is not easy anywhere, and certainly not in public universities in Florida where the legislature weighs in on curriculum. The trend toward vocationalism in education and away from the humanities as the foundation for learning has been hurtling along for the past decade, accelerated by the great recession of 2008 and 9. Predictable barriers such as faculty push-back, turf wars, and the pace of committee decision-making, all made the eventual release of UF Quest in 2018 seem miraculous. Lindner says they had to redesign the UF Quest logo three times.  

Fortunately, long before Lindner’s arrival, the UF Task Force on Undergraduate Education of 2010 paved the way for Quest in calling for the creation of signature experiences for first-time in college students that are themed: an increase in academic experiential learning, service learning, and civic engagement opportunities. Its most notable change was the addition of the required course “The Good Life,” which gave FTIC’s exposure to great book philosophers and the Socratic method.  While the course itself is largely considered disappointing, the breakthrough of establishing a shared, core curricula for 6,500 incoming students provided a platform that could be revised. 

After countless hours of expansive consensus-building on campus, and the solid but intentionally understated support of then President Kent Fuchs, Lindner and a multi-disciplinary team of faculty, staff and academic administrators unveiled the first version of UF Quest in 2017, centered on “the exploration of grand challenges” (hence the name) in the Humanities, Natural and Social Sciences. The content of UF Quest 1 courses reflect one of five themes representing grand challenges in the Humanities – the Examined Life, Identities, Justice and Power, Nature and Culture, War and Peace.  

Quest 2 courses, also required, focus on what Lindner calls the “wicked questions” of the natural or social sciences. Quest 3 and 4, which are currently electives, rely more heavily on experiential learning components to send students into the world to try on for size what they have learned in the classroom. Quest 4 is a discipline rooted faculty-driven capstone course that allows them to synthesize their learning and hear from voices outside of higher education.  

Unlike other courses in the general education curriculum, UF Quest has a number of “non-negotiables” reflecting its mission. Every Quest course has to have small classes, faculty have to engage closely with students – they are expected to know every student’s name; they have to include reflection assignments and some element of experiential learning. In addition, every course has to pose an essential question. For example, in the anthropology course “Indigenous Values,” the instructor asks, “How can indigenous values about the relationship between nature and culture help us address the challenge of climate change, food insecurity, and public health?”

Faculty Expertise, Student Choice

It is clear that the role of the faculty in the development and execution of UF Quest cannot be overstated, both in terms of their buy-in and ownership of the program and in the way it has allowed them to teach.  UF Quest’s excerpt is “Faculty Expertise, Student Choice” which speaks volumes about the essential elements of the program.  “The only way this was going to work was to have faculty backing it,” said Quinn Hansen, who was introduced to UF Quest by a faculty colleague who thought he would be a good fit. “And the best way to get faculty bought in is to say to them ‘talk about what you like and what you’re passionate about.’  It’s all about proposing your own adventure.” 

Lindner believes Quest has influenced teaching generally at UF with professors reporting they now teach their other courses as they do their Quest courses – with a much stronger connection to their students. “I can’t tell you how many times I hear the word ‘love,’ from faculty,” she said. “They love their students, they are excited to get back to their ‘first love’ – teaching.” 

So how does all this feel for the students themselves, nearly all of whom are unaware of the general-ed revisions that were made on their behalf?  

Claire is a senior on full scholarship at UF. She is double majoring in biology and Japanese and is on her way to veterinarian school. Her UF Quest journey was not so much about discovering what she wanted to major in as it was about experiencing a different side to what she had already chosen to pursue. For her Quest course, Claire chose “The Anatomy of a Story,” mostly, she said, because it had anatomy in the name. The instructor used several media sources – books like When Breath Becomes Air and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, as well as documentaries, poetry, and artwork – to convey the experience of either the patient or the practitioner. With humanities-related topics weaved throughout, the class was largely discussion-based, and students submitted a final essay interpreting one of the media sources they chose. 

“I can’t tell you how many times I hear the word ‘love,’ from faculty. They love their students, they are excited to get back to their ‘first love’ – teaching.”

“Being a biology major, a lot of what I do is listen to lectures and regurgitate information so having a discussion-based class where you hear other people’s opinions, that’s what I found most valuable about Quest,” she said. Claire’s experience included forging a close relationship with her professor. “She made a big impact on me because of how passionate she was about the material,” Claire said. “She has been a phenomenal mentor to me.”

Andrew, a third-year engineering major at UF, was also impressed with the energy and commitment faculty put into their Quest courses.  He took the “Good Life” in Quest 1 and while he was “meh” about the course, he said the instructor impressed him. “The professor made it way more than just about the material itself,” he said.  “He was a passionate musician, and he brought his music into different points of the course and gave us his own personal view.  He was also very interested in what we had to say.”  

Like Claire, Andrew viewed his Quest requirement as a respite from the load he was taking in engineering where he is studying digital arts and sciences. “As a student in a Quest course, you’re embracing a very different way of thinking than your major probably tracks you into,” he said. For Quest 2, Andrew chose “What’s Love Got to Do with It?” which he described as exploring what love, sex and romance actually mean.  “Each week we did readings that we would discuss, and we talked about how they made us feel, how this pertained to our own lives, and I think we all grew as people as a result,” he said.

In discussing the level of faculty engagement within his Quest courses, Andrew offered an astute observation even Lindner may not have anticipated. “The Quest instructors have more freedom and can arrange the curriculum with more fluidity in a way that’s productive and engaging and that tends to produce a higher quality of instruction.”

The Quest Forward

17,849 students have now successfully completed their Quest 1 requirement and 8,800 students have completed Quest 2 courses. Over 200 faculty from 69 units have developed and offered UF Quest courses and the qualitative and quantitative data have been positive. But UF Quest still faces a number of internal and external challenges that will determine just how much a change agent it proves to be for the university. 

Marketing the program wasn’t included in “getting it over the finish line” and there is a long way to go before students move from checking the box on their required Quest courses to promoting them as transformative experiences on TikTok. A related problem is getting traction on Quest 3 and 4. As important as it would seem to bring students through the full Quest trajectory, it is a tougher lift for third- and fourth-year students who are fully ensconced in their majors. In many ways, the challenge in implementing Quest’s later stages bumps up against the problem the program was created to address: students are worried they won’t have the time or the credit latitude for courses outside of their area of study. As excited as Andrew was to have participated in UF Quest, he was unsure if he would pursue Quest 2 and 3 when asked about it.  “As an engineering major, I have a lot of other big stones to step on.” 

Perhaps Quest’s biggest challenge is the chilling effect reported on college campuses in states, like Florida, with active legislation that restricts content of courses, combined with the increasing drumbeats calling for a return to prescribed classical education in core curriculum (both at odds with Quest’s excerpt of “Faculty Expertise and Student Choice” to encourage freedom of exploration, discovery, and meaning-making). Today, despite its tangible, transformative successes, this uncertainty leads to the question of whether Quest will be allowed to reach its full potential now that it has indeed hit its stride.  

Angela Lindner has recently retired from her position as Associate Provost, something she said she planned in anticipation of a research-based sabbatical that will lead to a teaching position in the engineering department. As proud as she is of the signature work she led with UF Quest, she said her greatest satisfaction came when people, particularly faculty, started calling it their own.