February 1, 2023
Many faculty and staff colleagues believe that SXU has lost its way.
But even in its meanderings, we see signs of the old possibilities. At last Friday’s faculty meeting, there was principled discussion of varied topics. ChatGPT was on the agenda, and many colleagues shared their early experiments with and assessments of, or threat analyses of, the system. Many commented on pedagogical principles that might be developed around AI; about how assignments might be structured to avoid pitfalls or capitalize on new opportunities; about how to approach the teaching of writing; about how there was nothing new—or there was something new—in the tool; and so on. Also at this meeting, there was discussion of the student request to adjust our holiday schedule to be more inclusive of Muslim religious holidays. Other topics were raised—some in new business—about the state of SXU in terms of finances, programs, and structure of colleges/programs. Through it all, the discourse was civil and multifaceted. Time was monitored for each topic; comments ranged, and the overall experience seemed “normal”—an airing of viewpoints, casual politeness in presentation and reception, and a “move on to the next thing” progression in the handling of business.
But the ordinariness of the meeting made me uneasy.
I suppose it’s my impression that we are in the midst of an existential threat—that we are living through an identity crisis—that prompts me to think there was something insidious and dangerous about the “business as usual” feel of things. But this dynamic has been going on for some time, and Friday’s meeting was merely the latest of many others like it the past several months and years. I worry that we are in danger of normalizing a kind of blindness to some essential questions and needed discussions; we’ve lost our sense of priorities and urgent needs.
So many of the people who have built SXU, and have drawn on and extended its traditions have left the university. In silence, tenure is disappearing. Institutional memory is sketchy. And so, when there is talk about restructuring, the advocates for the old programs in the humanities in particular are not present. The larger community lacks awareness, and so the supporters of Administration—often those who have been favored with resources or positions—are free to make claims and push agendas.
Since the arrival of the current president, there has been a steady push to shrink general education—in terms of requirements, in terms of majors and programs, in terms of emphasis and value. The push to develop—or rather promote (since precious little goes beyond lip service)—professional programs as our “brand” has created a false dichotomy or tension between professional formation and the liberal arts.
There’s an irony here. In promoting, for instance, a program in nursing as its flagship program—all the while whittling down disciplines that serve general education—the University is neglecting some compelling economic realities. The programs and courses in general education are among the university’s most efficient and cost effective, while those in nursing are most costly. Deemphasizing the humanities, if only in the reduction of general education offerings and requirements, not only weakens the education of students (including nursing students whose programs traditionally have required a fuller formation in the liberal arts)—but it also weakens the university’s bottom line financially.
We find ourselves on a march in pursuit of an agenda, not explicitly stated, to allow for smoother adoption of not only restructuring but also all the changes needed to facilitate the agenda. The march is without check: it brazenly defies governance structures; it employs the disciplining of “troublesome” faculty according to criteria and practices proscribed by the bylaws and AAUP; it shows refusal to meet faculty halfway on responsible requests (and thus promotes attrition through the loss of faculty who choose to retire or leave the institution); it weaponizes Human Resources to reprimand or intimidate faculty who are perceived as problematic for whatever reason.
On top of all this there is the creation of new committees where faculty representation is limited, or diluted, or pro forma (as many initiatives are fait accompli upon introduction); there is union busting; and there is direct disregard of Faculty Senate in the closing of programs, and the changing of bylaws.
All of this context leads to a restructuring plan that eliminates department chairs and shrinks the College of Arts and Sciences in ways that are defended as data driven, even though the data are structured in questionable ways, with many factors of what led to current data sets left unaccounted for (e.g., the starving/closing/misrepresentation of programs).
The bottom line is that the vision of the administration needs to be discussed in ways it hasn’t been discussed. Is it the right vision? Is it a pragmatic vision? Is it a vision that advances our mission? More to the point, we must discuss, and provide remedies for, the breaches in trust we’ve experienced the past six years. These breaches run the gamut—from questions of governance; to an unwillingness to engage in open dialogue (through established structures like the Faculty Affairs Committee and the Senate); to unnamed policies for resource allocation; to silence about the institution’s disinvestment in the academic product; and, of course, to revived, faulty approaches taken to program closures and restructuring.
Saint Xavier has lost its way, and in northern, cold waters. Let’s not normalize our waywardness with more meetings and conversations that gloss over our crises in accents of “business as usual.” If that is indeed an iceberg up ahead, let’s not concern ourselves so assiduously with rearranging the deck chairs….