Culture of the Network: Discontinuing a Connection

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I would like to preface the following with this: I am not an expert. Not even close. I do not claim to have any better insights than my constituents. I simply want to provide the opportunity to consider a different perspective. I may be wrong. You may think I sound pompous. Engage me.

All things considered, social media is still a relatively new concept. While our feeds are often filled with social media strategists and experts, the truth is, we are far from a holistic understanding of the true impact that social media is having on us. I don’t say this to imply that strategists and experts are anything but that–strategists and experts–I say this to encourage you to consider that we don’t know everything. Sure, we can talk about how to best use social media to reach our respective audiences, how to leverage the technology, or strategize how to spearhead a social media campaign on our campuses; these are incredibly useful insights and are invaluable to the development of our understanding of these tools. However, there are definitely some social-psychological forces at play that we don’t regularly consider. I firmly believe that there are widespread, deeply penetrating implications for many of the seemingly imprudent actions we take daily via social media. My goal is to address one of those actions.
This post was inspired by one such “action,” accompanied by a perspective with which I find myself cautious to align. I have heard and read this idea countless times over the past few years via Twitter and Facebook. To paraphrase, the idea is this: discontinuing a network connection with someone, whether it is unfollowing them on Twitter, unfriending on Facebook, removing a LinkedIn connection, etc., is merely a way of filtering people out of your network. Time and time again, I’ve seen the justification for this–often worded different, but ultimately with the same idea in mind. Like it or not, one way or another, it most often boils down to this: “you are no longer of use to me.” This comes in different forms. Some folks discontinue connections because of a disagreement on a topic, some because they can’t identify any commonalities with that individual, some just find the connection to be bothersome in some way. All of these sentiments can be summed up as “I do not value your content anymore.” Let me emphasize: there is nothing wrong with feeling this way.

Here is why this might be something you should consider with a different perspective. In my opinion, it is one thing to unfollow some obnoxious celebrity or ranting high school classmate who isn’t providing any value to your feed…it is another animal altogether to unfollow a colleague in your field that you’re probably going to interact with at some point in your career–someone who has connected with you at some point on the grounds that you share some sort of commonality. Perhaps you’re an Assistant Director, Director, Dean, or VP, and you’re confident that this person is not someone you “need” in your network or in  your feed. In this case, I encourage you to expand your perception of what social media really is. To be frank (and I realize this comment will likely cause me some grief), it is a particularly self-centered approach, to create a professional network and then eliminate those who you identify as not providing value to you. What if the purpose of that connection was not for that individual to provide value to you, but for you to provide value to them. I’m sure your first thought might be “well, me unfollowing them doesn’t impact that…it doesn’t change that they’re still following me and can utilize me as a resource.” Have you considered how noticing that disconnection might impact that individual? Have you considered, particularly if you’re someone in a mid-level or senior-level position, how removing someone from your network might make that person feel?

“What did I do wrong?”
“Was it something I said?”
“Why am I no longer worth that connection with you?”

Did you have concerns with that individual? Did you address them, providing feedback and insight that might be crucial to their professional development? Or did you click “unfollow” and wipe your hands cleans? I will assure you of this, more likely than not, but particularly if you’re in a more senior position (but definitely also otherwise), that individual is going to be extremely reluctant to address you should they notice that you discontinued them from your network. Perhaps you don’t need them, but they may have needed you and may now, with heightened sensitivity, feel expendable and unvalued.
As someone who studied counseling and spent years focused specifically on how people think and feel, I find myself pondering these sorts of things. I find myself thinking about how every action you take is going to impact someone one way or another…and perhaps you will never know.

The Disgruntled Employee

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I find it interesting that, as a result of our economic climate, people are not allowed to be unhappy with their jobs anymore. Everyday, people are getting laid off and the challenge to secure a job is becoming increasingly challenging and therefore the pressure to have satisfaction with the job you have has also increased. Often I hear this sentiment tossed around: “if you’re so unhappy with your job, you should leave it”. More often than not, this is said because someone is making it abundantly clear that they are unhappy–perhaps it is through public expression or perhaps it is through their professional  performance. I stand firmly in my belief that these manifestations of unhappiness are inappropriate it. If someone is bashing their job on twitter or doing a mediocre job in their day-to-day work, this is behavior that will very easily insight some sort of resentment from professional colleagues, including myself, and rightfully so.

The notion that I can’t get behind, however, is the general idea that if someone..anyone.. is unhappy in their job/career, they should get out. They should get out because there are people who would be exponentially more grateful to have such an opportunity and wouldn’t waste or disgrace it with having a lack of appreciation for it.

Considering that someone is still performing their duties to an acceptable quality, their un/happiness should be of no consequence to others in the field. It is fair to take it personally when this individual is publicly berating their job/profession. Most often, that is where these sentiments stem from: someone on Facebook or Twitter is expressing their conviction for the world to see, but I caution anyone who feels that because someone has found themselves in such a place, that there is no depth to their discontent.

It is easy to forget that, since we are passionate about what WE do, there are going to be people that are doing their “job” as a means to an end. As a means to put food on the table and take care of a family and pay bills. It is possible that, because of these circumstances, regardless of the field, discontent may overwhelm that person. However, that discontent should not be invalidated. Particularly as Student Affairs professionals, we make it a point to make sure we are considering our students as people who are impacted by their environment. We are encouraged and encourage others to view people holistically and understand their “story”. This should be no different when we think about folks in other contexts. These unhappy colleagues have reached a personal threshold that we have no right to pass judgement on.

…Unless they tweet it.

Language as an Invention: Tolerance

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Language as an Invention: Tolerance

A few evenings ago when responding to someone on twitter, I posed the question: “isn’t it passed your bedtime?” and I was called out on my error.

It was an error. However, it got me thinking about language and how the slightest mistake can totally change your purpose. Language-as-invention permits “passed my bedtime” if my purpose is to provide imagery of time-personification. This brings me to one of my greatest frustrations–follow me on this train of thought if you will–if language is an invention and we are reinventing it constantly, why does certain language trigger a degree of complacency that ultimately results in resistance to inclusion? The answer seems to be that there is more to our language than the words that escape our lips. Language hails concepts that we develop a sense of ownership over–concepts that we are reluctant to forfeit.

One of the clearer examples is that of inclusion regarding religion-affiliated holiday celebrations as they are marketed to a diverse population. The reluctance of a single party to forfeit the word “Christmas”, for example, and adopt the more inclusive “Holiday”, does more to marginalize those who are unable to relate than it does to be inclusive of those who do. I approached this issue with my student staff with the following perspective: we are responsible for community development in a complex of 800 residents of incredibly diverse backgrounds. If we are not being inclusive of all 800 of our residents, then we are marginalizing someone and, as leaders, that is entirely unacceptable. I digress.

Back to the issue concept-hailing language, I can go on about phrases such as “that’s so gay” or “you’re retarded”, or “man up”, but the concept that I would like to engage some rhetoric on is the term “tolerance”. Tolerance is a word that is thrown around in elementary school classrooms and university mission statements quite frequently, but what exactly does it mean? Do we believe that tolerance should really be a goal outlined in a university’s diversity statement? I strongly believe that although once upon a time tolerance was a goal, it evolved into a concept that was accepted as neither “good” nor “bad”, and ultimately evolved into something that we shouldn’t be striving for as an end-result. Tolerance, the word in itself, signifies a degree of superiority. Think about it, “I am tolerant of other cultures”–doesn’t that convey a culturally elitist message? Someone once argued with me that “tolerance” is a good “first step”, but I argue: a first step towards what? Sure, it’s a step away from hate, but does that automatically make it a step towards social action? Is it more like a sidestep towards detachment and apathy? Is someone who is merely tolerant likely to take that leap towards positive social action or is tolerance a mechanism that does more to prevent social justice rather than encourage it? Thoughts?

Life and Times of James S. Frier

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Greetings!

First, I’d like to thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to read my first ever blog post. This site is a journey I’m beginning because it occurred to me that quite a bit of what I have to say goes beyond only 140 characters.
I figure an appropriate first post would be a little self-absorbed—a brief autobiography of who I am and how I got to where I am today. With that said, here you go:

I was born in New York City to two parents who had been married a few years and who had been raising my older brother for five. By the time I turned five, however, rather than contemplating another child, my parents were finalizing their divorce. For the next ten years, I traveled back and forth between them—my father lived, and still lives, on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and my mother lived in Washington Heights, on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The city was my terrain.

As time went on my mother remarried and blessed this world with my sister—the only bright light in an otherwise dark marriage. Meanwhile, I skated through elementary school and junior high school, establishing a habit of being terribly lazy and unproductive in class. I never felt challenged, and with so much distraction outside of the classroom, I didn’t apply myself appropriately. Though never an excuse, circumstances have the power to keep potential dormant.

Between 1995-1997, cancer took the lives of about 1/3 of my immediate family.

In 1999, my brother graduated from Brooklyn Technical High School (BTHS) and went on to graduate from Iona College in 2003. Though I followed my big brother’s footsteps through BTHS, which is currently ranked #63 in the nation by US News & World Report, my academic performance and attitude was nothing more than mediocre. I aced state exams, but barely got through my classes. I waded through that malaise for years.

But my entire perspective changed during my senior year. A painfully unforgettable moment.

A popular institution was conducting an on-sight recruitment in our auditorium (the second largest auditorium in NYC—second to Radio City), and as my friends went on stage, sat down, and ultimately got accepted, I became anxious. When it was my turn to go up, with dozens of my friends watching, I wasn’t even given the chance to sit down. The admissions counselor looked at my transcript, looked at me, and said “no.” I had just pulled the chair out, and had to push it right back in—and then exit stage right. The public rejection only proved to lay bear a more private one that was occurring around this time; my peers were accepting countless offers to top and Ivy League institutions, all the while I was receiving rejection letter after rejection letter.

I was waking up, in a way, and all I wanted was a chance. Only one university gave me that chance.

My acceptance into St. John’s University was contingent upon close and careful observation of my performance by an advisor throughout my first year. However undeserving, I had one last chance to prove some things. To my peers, that I wasn’t incapable and incompetent. To my parents, that I wasn’t a waste. To my teachers, who actually told me that I wouldn’t amount to anything, my worth. To my Guidance Counselor, who told my girlfriend at the time that she should break up with me because I wasn’t going anywhere, that she was dead wrong.

Four years later I not only graduated from St. John’s, but I graduated with honors, a degree in Adolescent Education and English, Dean’s List honors for each of the four years,  Dean’s Scholar status, and a scholarship to New York University (NYU) graduate school. I had come alive, inside, and my experiences there shaped my future.

During my time at St. John’s, I served as a Resident Assistant for three years. I worked with first-year students in learning communities and traditional and suite style housing. Concurrently, I developed two organizations and involved myself in the university community every chance I got. With every waking day, I heard my calling more clearly—to be an educator. I took that calling and moved forward, back into the heart of my terrain—Manhattan— as a graduate student at NYU.

There, I held three assistantships in areas of Judicial Affairs and Residence Life. I earned my Masters Degree in Counseling and completed a year-long internship as a Guidance Counselor at none other than Brooklyn Technical High School. My experiences informed my practice more personally than one could possibly imagine. I graduated from NYU with a 3.7 and accepted the great opportunity of a position as Residence Life Coordinator, halfway across the country, at Texas Tech University.

With an opportunity to look in retrospect and quite literally trace my journey back to New York City, I remember the many faces of people who couldn’t see a side of me that, for so long, went unknown even to me. It’s now my privilege to see those sides of others, even when—especially when— they don’t, and to inspire them with the day-to-day work of student life.
I will never forget who I am, where I came from, or the somewhat unconventional manner through which I got here.

This is my story in a nutshell and I hope you enjoyed!