I was recently having dinner with my dissertation adviser, Scott @shershow, catching up after many years, and at one point during the meal our conversation predictably drifted to something someone said on Twitter. Scott paused and said, “I must admit I don’t really get Twitter.”
He had joined Twitter maybe a year ago, had a couple dozen followers and was trying to become more familiar with it. But his admission suggested a murkiness and mysteriousness around the medium -- qualities we tend to forget after several years of obsessive tweeting and accumulating thousands of followers, retweets and likes.
My mentor may be near a tipping point: either ready to abandon Twitter, or just on the verge of getting it, to use his word. Without wanting to sound like a hyped-up social media evangelist, let me see if I can help. What can Twitter be for academics?
A way to write! Twitter can help make your prose stronger, clearer and, most important, shorter. We often get into bad habits when we write for narrow disciplinary audiences, and Twitter can help jostle you out of wordy discursive patterns that have become unconscious.
An archive. Twitter is a place to keep research findings: insights, startling juxtapositions and oddities are all at home on your Twitter feed. Use Twitter as a living archive, one that you can quite easily download to your hard drive every once in a while and comprehensively search. If you search for keywords or proper names, you may find threads and thoughts that can be expanded into larger investigations or arguments.
A venue in which to be cited. When you tweet your scholarship, you shouldn’t worry about someone scooping you. Realize instead that people can now reference you on Twitter and you can later integrate such points and rapid dialogues into papers, articles or books. Likewise, keep track of poignant remarks that you spot on Twitter so you can recall them later and weave them into something you are working on.
A great teaching tool. Create a Twitter assignment, like the one my colleague @twel in the English Department at Loyola University at New Orleans taught me, where students keep reading notes on Twitter, using a hashtag to create a live, interactive dialogue about your weekly reading. It’s also a way for you to interact with students. That can be risky, of course -- there are some things you’d rather not know about students’ late-night habits or existential crises. But the benefits outweigh such risks. Basically, it is a way to model to students not only how academic interests intersect with everyday life but also good interactive etiquette. Again, that can get dicey on Twitter, but even the worst-case examples of Twitter spats lend themselves to object lessons concerning written communication, the viral potential of the digital, the need to take time for reflection and how to be respectful within the strange realm of social media (and beyond).
A mode of communication. This may sound all too obvious, but once you fully embrace the wide reach of Twitter, it becomes a way to get the attention of all sorts of people and entities, including popular stars, politicians and airline officials during a flight cancellation. They may not always seem to hear or reply, but when they do, it can be quite satisfying. Look at how essayist and novelist @rgay engages readers, celebrities, critics and ordinary people of all stripes on Twitter -- talk about writing for an audience.
A way to promote your work. This isn’t just about becoming a shill or rampant capitalist. This is about using the tools at hand to help get your work out there to a real, reading audience. When your book is published, tweet about it. Look what philosopher @michael_marder did when his @objectsobjects book Dust came out this past January: he tweeted “dust specks” or little insights that came from and piled up around the book. You too can tweet little snippets from or aphorisms about your book when it is published, and even just one each day will help your book actually sell. And more important, this can help your book find readers. When I talk to editors about this issue (for instance, @mxmcadam at Johns Hopkins University Press and I have discussed this many times), they invariably tell me they prefer it if their authors are active on Twitter -- and for good reason. It is not only aiding the struggling and overwhelmed marketing efforts of publishers but it is also a way to do your work justice, to dare to be public about your intellectual work.
A critical platform. There is nothing like seeing the sharp television criticism of New Yorker journalist @emilynussbaum, the everyday analysis of sociologist @tressiemcphd or the home appliance criticism of media theorist @ibogost unfold in real time on Twitter. Twitter is a way to engage in lively critique: it is a vibrant medium for pithy reviews, trenchant commentary and subtle demystification. Of course you always set yourself up to be lampooned by a withering GIF or deflated by an ironic reply, but isn’t this a healthy thing for critics to keep in mind?
A community. The environmental policy scholar @raulpacheco started his #scholarsunday hashtag as a way to bring scholars together on Twitter, and it has been so successful that now it seems like every day of the week is Sunday. I’ve gone on to meet in person so many of the people I originally connected with on Twitter (including Raul himself), and that experience then reflexively rejuvenates the Twitter community. So if you feel like posing a question to a scholar you admire -- or just placing a question out in the seeming void -- there is a good chance that you will get a response, and usually it will be smart and useful. And then you may end up having a drink with your virtual respondent at a conference in the future, and possibly forming an ongoing friendship, professional collaboration or both
It is worth repeating No. 1: it is a way to write. You can actually draft entire essays, book chapters and conference papers on Twitter and then get live feedback as you go. It is scary sometimes, of course, to write in public -- to reveal your research before a legitimate outlet like a university press or a well-regarded journal has vetted or published it. But, in the end, this is a leap of faith that will almost always make the work better -- the end being publication elsewhere, like here. This piece started as a handful of tweets about how I use Twitter as an academic.
Christopher Schaberg (@airplanereading) is an associate professor of English at Loyola University New Orleans.
As educators, we often assume that we have the answers. In some cases, we also expect that we can -- and should -- anticipate the questions. Yet I can one thing say with absolute certainty: our listening and learning never stops.
Last April, I was welcomed as the seventh president of the University of Nebraska. New to the university and the state, I embarked on a 20-stop, statewide listening tour, Getting to Know Nebraska, augmented by additional community visits over the summer. I had the opportunity to meet and converse with hundreds of Nebraskans and hear firsthand how deeply they care about their public university.
It was insightful and inspirational. And it was just the beginning.
Today’s university presidents are required to be thought leaders and cheerleaders, professional spokespersons and personal ambassadors for their university brand. We must navigate innovations in information technology, shifts in student and faculty needs due to the internationalization of academe, changing rules around college athletics, state and federal politics, and more.
For me, carrying out those roles effectively meant committing to continued listening and informed leadership.
So my communications team and I brainstormed a 21st stop on my statewide listening tour -- one that transcended geographic boundaries and provided continuing opportunities for engagement, conversation and connection. We launched a Twitter listening tour from my new personal handle, @hankbounds, as a way to encourage dialogue about higher education in Nebraska and nationally.
Many of my peers have shied away from the Twitterverse. According to a 2013 study conducted by researchers at the University of Massachusetts, just over half of university presidents have a presence on Twitter. And industry experts say that, among those early adopters, even fewer use the full potential of Twitter to listen and learn, engage with stakeholders, and articulate a differentiating vision.
Not surprisingly, then, a Twitter listening tour concept raised several challenging questions for us.
Is the Twitterverse too uncertain? The platform has inherent risks: being held under the microscope of public scrutiny in a high-traffic digital arena, exposed to not-so-positive or even negative comments and questions, and potentially losing control of the message when conversations are opened up to the masses.
Too constraining? My communications team debated how thoughtful of a question could be asked in 140 characters, and how meaningful of an answer could be delivered in return. But as Biz Stone, cofounder of Twitter, asserts, “Constraint inspires creativity.”
Do university presidents have any business being on Twitter? Removing ego from the equation entirely, would tweeters -- especially students -- have enough of a vested interest in higher education in the state of Nebraska that they’d actually pose questions?
We mulled over all of these things. We couldn’t deny social media’s potential to personalize the presidential role, open up lines of communication, promote leadership transparency and meet stakeholders where they’re at. We recognized the importance of fielding questions and fueling conversation.
So at the start of the 2015-16 academic year, I embarked on Nebraska Talks: A Digital Listening Tour. Over the course of two and a half weeks, and with the support of NU campuses and the local news media (which announced the launch of the tour while select reporters encouraged participation through their own tweets), the Twitter-based tour reached more than 150,000 stakeholders: current and prospective students, faculty and staff members, educators, business and civic leaders, policy makers, alumni and donors.
My Twitter follower numbers saw a healthy spike. But more important, engagement soared.
Questions and conversations -- threaded with #PrezUnplugged -- spanned access and affordability, global education, outreach to first-generation students, the recruitment of out-of-state and international students, the production of more graduates to meet Nebraska’s workforce needs, and the need to increase lifelong learning and alumni engagement, among others.
Outside of the questions, we saw a steady stream of what can only be classed as “affirmation” tweets. People -- some within the university or the state of Nebraska, others completely unaffiliated -- took to Twitter to say how refreshing it was to see a university president using social media as a listening tool and a way to drive engagement and dialogue.
I share this not to pat my communications team on the back. Rather, I share it to challenge my peers to rethink -- and even embrace -- social media as an opportunity to connect with stakeholders in real time, to listen and engage on real topics, and to be accessible. For new and established presidents alike, Twitter is an underused tool for gathering information, understanding the evolving educational landscape, and hearing and recognizing the needs of key audiences.
For me, it’s become a way to continually hear from stakeholders about how we can work together to shape a stronger future and position the University of Nebraska as a leader in higher education. The university has four campuses, with a one- to two-hour drive in between them, so Twitter is also a way to keep a finger on the pulse of multiple campuses and be accessible to faculty, staff and students in an ongoing way.
Twitter can help establish meaningful connections and build trust among key audiences. In my experience, the platform can even facilitate off-line, more traditional relationships. Based on the thoughtfulness, creativity and relevance of the Twitter listening tour questions that came in, I selected two Nebraskans -- one a junior at the University of Nebraska at Omaha and the other the president of the Nebraska Educational Technology Association -- to continue conversations with me in person.
Twitter is a prime space for sharing university success narratives and engaging a wide range of people in them. And if approached strategically, it’s also an excellent forum for commenting on trends, highlighting the varied expertise the university can provide and articulating institutional messages and presidential passion points. Early childhood and youth education, for example, is very important to me, since I began my career as a high school teacher and principal. Twitter has opened new doors to talk about the University of Nebraska’s world-class work in that space.
But Twitter is not for the weary. It’s a demanding platform that requires time and cultivation. The listening never stops, and patience is key, as success cannot be measured overnight or simply in quantitative terms. Twitter’s potential expands beyond numbers of followers or the volume of posts or retweets -- it can be a powerful driver for long-term goals such as relationship and reputation building.
Even after a year in my role as president of the University of Nebraska, my listening tour is, in a way, just beginning. To sum up this lesson in 140 characters or less: “Listening has made me a better leader, and social media has allowed me to lend an ear to more people. #PrezUnplugged.”
Hank Bounds is the president of the University of Nebraska.
It takes only one problematic student in an otherwise amiable class to cause a teacher to temporarily question his career choice. It’s especially troubling that the proportion of such problematic students appears to be growing.
Some studies have reported a rising “narcissism epidemic” among students, the result of which suggests that the “United States is poised to experience social problems as younger narcissists age and move into positions of power,” as Josh Clark of Seeker.com noted in February 2013. Many educators are unfamiliar with scholarly research on this mental disorder, yet they know, through personal experience, its various symptoms. What are those symptoms, and what can educators do to manage them when they flare up, particularly in the classroom?
Let’s start with the first question. Narcissistic students are distinguished by several traits that imply a greater likelihood of conflict with their instructors. They are prone to “arrogant, haughty [rude and abusive] behaviors or attitudes,” according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. They are also easily offended; one might expect that this trait is especially manifest in classes where controversial social issues are regularly discussed. Further, narcissism is associated with a sense of academic entitlement, as well as uncivil behavior when, as noted in an article in Personality and Individual Differences, “entitled behaviors fail to achieve the desired outcome.” Finally, narcissism is linked to immoral -- and shameless -- conduct, including academic dishonesty. (Cheating seems to be on the rise, although I’ve seen little evidence that students are getting better at it. Would it kill them to at least change the font color before copying and pasting someone else’s work?)
Simply put, narcissistic students are more disruptive, academically entitled, willing to cheat in order to succeed and likely to fuss when they don’t.
As a result, classroom conflicts with narcissistic students may occur with greater frequency in higher education today. Here I’m particularly interested in the more serious cases that reach the attention of college administrators, wherein professors face at least two challenges when presenting their side of the story. First, if narcissistic students do have fewer qualms about committing acts of academic dishonesty, it isn’t a huge stretch of the imagination to suspect that they’re also more likely to deliberately misrepresent classroom confrontations and level false accusations against faculty members. Such bogus allegations are a real -- and evidently growing -- problem in today’s educational institutions. In Great Britain, at least, more than one in five teachers reported having been falsely accused by school and college students in a survey conducted last year by the U.K.-based Association of Teachers and Lecturers. On the other side of the Atlantic, it was reported that one in seven male teachers has been wrongly accused of “inappropriate contact with students,” leading to a dearth of “male role models” in Canadian classrooms, according to the Canadian Education Association.
Second, colleges and universities are increasingly run like businesses, whereby students are viewed as customers. Accordingly, Nate Kreuter argues, “the old main street American, folksy business mantra that ‘the customer is always right’ can’t be too far behind.” Although recent experience has taught me that I’ve been blessed with a very fair-minded dean, I know that professors at other institutions aren’t nearly as fortunate. The rise of this business model of education may be part of the reason why some of them are quitting. Perhaps they’ve lost confidence in their institutions’ ability to adjudicate conflicts between students and faculty members impartially.
So, what’s my solution? Installing video cameras in classrooms is by no means a novel idea. It has been proposed for multiple reasons, from helping “teachers ground their self-reflection in empirical evidence” to protecting students from bullies and abusive professors.
But class cams aren’t usually predicated on the growing need to protect educators. While leaving it to each college and university to address questions of implementation (e.g., where, and for how long, will video footage be stored? Who may access it and under what conditions?), I argue that class cams will produce the incontrovertible evidence that faculty members need to overcome false allegations from students.
Of course, faculty members and school teachers are capable of misconduct, too (and I mean real, coming-to-class-drunk-and-walking-into-walls misconduct, not the distasteful-yet-harmless-dropping-the-f-bomb-in-class misconduct that, these days, can help get a professor fired). Therefore, class cams could also benefit students by proving or deterring inappropriate classroom behavior on their instructors’ part.
Class cams are an admittedly costly solution. But for colleges and universities that can afford them, they may be a necessary safeguard for faculty members until we successfully resolve the underlying causes of our narcissism epidemic.
Amir Azarvan is an assistant professor of political science at Georgia Gwinnett College.
Remember the thin, blank blue sheets we used to buy in foreign post offices? The rectangle already had wing panels to fold in and was appropriately stamped “Aérogramme” on the outside. For a flat rate, the traveler could write a letter home, seal the flaps over the inner rectangle and drop it in the mail. It weighed next to nothing and marked us as more than postcard tourists if less than natives. We sometimes got home before our letters arrived.
This is not a nostalgia essay.
Today’s study abroad industry thrusts more than 300,000 American students onto planes heading to industrialized nations and occasionally to the safer enclaves of less prosperous ones. Engaging with foreign languages and cultures is the announced goal, with English-speaking countries the preferred destinations of the cautious. This may be the first trip abroad for some American college students or even their first time on an airplane. Others are seasoned travelers, if still culturally inexperienced.
They are all festooned with multiple digital devices.
Today’s study abroad explorers may leave their home country but not leave home at all. Thanks to cheap international data plans and smartphones in their pockets, millennial Americans seldom say goodbye to familiar friends, family and online comforts as they set out to experience life in a different country. Can a digital native ever go native?
The implied comfort of a digital cocoon is what entices some students to undertake the foreign travel they never would have considered half a generation ago. And the reassurance is not just implied. Some study abroad offices issue cheap flip phones purchased in country so students can be in constant contact with their academic and legal guardians. Professors preload travel instructions and course materials onto websites. If those sites go down, study abroad courses often grind to a halt.
Long forgotten are the exertions of making international calls by pay phone and calling cards -- not to mention those cheap blue Aérogramme sheets. Liability considerations control many aspects of institution-sponsored foreign travel. Insistence on continuous digital access is the safety net for a large part of the organizers’ legal concerns. In some programs, refusing to carry a charged cell phone is a scoldable offense.
Don’t blame the college, either. Today’s helicopter parents are much more likely to support their children’s desire to spend a summer or semester abroad if they are ensured constant connectivity via smartphones and tablets. They know their son or daughter will forget to make a call, but Mom and Dad will refuse to underwrite a trip if their kids cannot take a call, or at least be geolocated.
And today’s millennials are adept social engineers, having successfully retrofitted their parents to be as needy about technology as they are. Even Grandma wants to read the blog about Florence, Brisbane or Calcutta -- and is planning on getting a virtual tour from her intrepid young traveler once the program is over.
Yet we’re starting to realize that wearing a digital helmet undermines precisely the reasons we take students to foreign places in the first place. They’re still texting the same circle of American friends, still posting to Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. They may superficially engage with the culture that surrounds them, glancing at surfaces, wincing at strange foods, seeing crowds of natives and talking about them online. The problem is not just one of forging genuine connection, although lingering in an English digital environment is certainly a major obstacle to linguistic and cultural immersion.
Technology closes doors for our students as much as it opens them. It’s armor you can’t take off. When we walk streets without purpose, loiter in parks and open spaces, sit and watch a new world go by in cafes and restaurants that lack the trappings of home -- these are the experiences that today’s digital adepts are missing. They arrive in geographically distant places tethered to intractable habits involving their devices. Why try to tap into the pulse of a foreign city when familiar friends and entertainment are only a finger tap away?
Our students’ addiction to the virtual undercuts the personal growth that comes from reflection and even loneliness. Studying abroad is valuable precisely because of the discomforts students confront in foreign environments that lead to lasting insights into the daily cadences of life in new places. Touch and taste, leisure and loneliness, fatigue and friendship -- each is lived in the flesh, not in pixels.
Formative moments shaped by solitude, chance, serendipity and wonder risk being lost when social media provide a plasticized sense of safety. Unwilling to drop their digital routines, or at least minimize use of their devices, students miss out on opportunities that come from living in an environment not curated by technology. The untechnologized undergrads of yesteryear used to ask a local to take their photograph. Why reach out to a fellow human when a selfie stick does its own reaching?
Foreign experiences increasingly are measured in likes rather than nondigital memories. Awareness of the very fragility of memory is a strange benefit of travel abroad. Emerging in its place is a worrisome form of drive-by tourism often marked by narcissism, voyeurism and guarded detachment.
An enduring attribute of foreign study is the very quality that ties it to liberal education: the ability to broaden perspectives through cultivating lifelong learning. Curiosity about culture and difference requires a commitment to immersion and the deep changes that can come from a disconnection from the familiar. We need to urge our students to turn off their devices -- and to keep them off. We must show them that a digital detox while abroad will lead to richer, more lasting experiences. To truly leave home requires leaving one’s digital self behind.
How to get our students to take off their digital helmets? Denying all access would be impractical, impermissible and perhaps emotionally destabilizing. Digital junkies can’t go cold turkey, and neither can their equally addicted parents.
But how about requiring our students to carry a phone but promise not to consult it more than once a day? We might reward them for the fewest log-ins on social media or craft for them a site-specific scavenger hunt of microlocations (the sheep pasture closest to the cathedral) and cultural experiences (a dinner of only Chinese insect snacks) that could never be Googled onto a checklist. Those blue airmail sheets have morphed into blogs and online journals that can be guided writing exercises that we ask undergraduates to start in hard copy.
Restoring the “raw abroad” can provide the jolting strangeness we long for our students to have. And that means urging that the digital visor be lifted up out of sight.
George Greenia teaches Spanish and is founder of the Institute for Pilgrimage Studies at the College of William & Mary. Jacob H. Rooksby teaches law at Duquesne University and co-directs summer law programs in Germany and China.