The new technological paradigm has arrived. With the ad nauseaum talk of millennium resolutions and futurama musings, it is indeed a perfect time to reflect on the role of technology on the future of the student affairs profession and on the lives of the students we are committed to serve.
Often the "black sheep" of the Academy, student affairs is constantly struggling, like the idyllic salmon swimming against the current, to find its niche in the continual evolution of higher education. However, the influx or explosion of technological innovation has disturbed an already "unlevel" playing field. The so-called "information age" has transformed, and will continue to revise, the student affairs profession, having a profound impact on our pedagogy and on the development of our students. The pithy reality of "high-tech, high-touch" has already begun to affect the way in which we conduct ourselves in the office, in the field, and in our daily lives. The race for maximum technological proficiency is on, and our students are winning. Clearly, we are in the grips of a technological revolution, and every revolution must have casualties of war.
According to a Datatel advertisement that can often be seen on the pages of The Chronicle, "life without technology isn't an option". Agreed. We have spent the past three decades dancing the tango of prediction and reaction to the tune of billions of dollars in the hopes that we will be able to meet the needs and wants of our students who have been weened on the surrogate nipple of technology.
In reflection, we have created a monster. In delivering every service imaginable and affordable, we have invented a fast-food, customer service approach to student development. Rather than being "student centered", we are in real danger of becoming artificial, decentralized, and ineffective in shaping the lives of the younger generation. The wired (and soon wireless) "deliverables" i.e. bedroom internet ports, cable television, and access to comprehensive campus networks have created a virtual cocoon within our residence halls. However, unlike the caterpillar to butterfly transformation, our students are leaving the university without the oral, written, and social skills that will make them productive, developed citizens. The ease of access provided by technology has created a new generation of college students. According to Peter Sacks (Generation X Goes to College) and Arthur Levine (When Hope and Fear Collide) these students appear more demanding, more career focused and specialized, and more critical of student services then ever before. Additionally, they are more content to withdraw from the extra-curriculum, lack written and oral proficiency, and struggle desperately with issues of intimacy and belonging. Indeed, students are no longer cross-pollinating on our campuses as all of their technological needs are being met in their bedrooms. The mythical "collegiate way" is becoming synonymous with the rapidity and quality of the technology available. Colleges and universities are beginning to sell themselves according to their technological "specs", rather than the quality of their educational experience.
In providing quality and state-of-the-art service, we fill the bed with a new student, a "screenager", who will suffer different addictions, prefer different hobbies, and have much different expectations of us and our services. Is this the message of our mission statement? Are we prepared to reap what we so clearly wish to sow? Can Cardinal Newman's idea of a liberal education be possible while our students choose to remain nestled in the ivory towers that we have so neatly constructed and furnished for them? Is this another Iacocaian dilemma where we must lead, follow, or get out of the way? Further, has the Age of Technology hurt higher education at all? All important questions that are ripe for the answering.
As a product of a now "old school" education, my concepts of learning and knowledge are radically different from the students I counsel, reach out to, and (hopefully) educate. I fumbled through the card catalog. I am nostalgic and motivated by the smell of the library when you are sitting deep within the stacks, exploring some stained and aged text. I wrote in pencil. Longhand. I used 3M corrective typewriter tape to "neatly" fix my mistakes. I wrote (and still write) letters and sent(d) real postcards. Things have indeed changed.
Today, our students need not be literate, simply "computerate". They visit the "cybrary" for their research needs. They suffer from "netlag", a new clinical diagnosis for the symptoms associated with spending too many hours hunched over the PC. A web year last 90 days. Interlibrary loan takes seconds. The world is as small as the speed of your modem. It is as beautiful as it is tragic.
In examining this question of technology, I cannot overlook the opportunities and advancements in education made possible by the same inventions that simultaneously are of such grave concern. Information and knowledge are so immediately and easily accessible. The computer, arguably the most significant invention of the past century, has ushered in a new era of society that is both fascinating and frightening.
As technology tightens its grip on the Academy, student affairs professionals must find a healthy and delicate balance between what is "high tech" and what must remain "high touch". The glamour and the appeal exist in experimenting with the newest fad or method of delivering student service. Pandora's box was thrown open with the invention of email. Today, we "celebrate" the founding of Jones International University, the first "virtual institution". In the not to distance future, a merger between Bill Gates' Microsoft and Barnes and Noble promises that we can download any book to a protable PDA device to be read at our leisure. The possibilities are endless.
However, we must not forget that we exist for students, not for the advancement of technology. Our role in the holistic development of the college student has long been as provider, nurturer, and mentor. Technology threatens to blur this responsibility.
This is not doomsday rhetoric written by a perennial pessimist. True, we must learn the technology and ride the wave of change, but we must also be prepared for the pendulum to swing back in the direction of reactionary nostalgia. If and when our students step off the cliff of technology, we must be there to break the fall, provide guidance, and offer our support. For indeed, there is always hope, Fitzgerald's Gatsbyian green light, for the resurgence of intimacy and the strength of community.
How the profession of student affairs chooses to handle the technological revolution will determine the future of the Academy as it pertains to the well-being or our students and the quality of our current and future practitioners. For many of us who are not in tune with the information age, the Darwinian "fight or flight" mentality appears an innate, natural reaction. However, we must instead stand our ground and find a balance so that we avoid becoming living fossils in our changing profession while remaining sensitive and caring relationships with our evolving students.
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby