In the first few days of the first vacation I took during my new job, I read a recently published book that has received wide acclaim: Normal People, by Sally Rooney, speaks to the complexities of relationships between folks in their early adult years quite effectively. The two main characters completed secondary school in 2011 in Sligo, Ireland, a year before I completed high school in California. The story between the two characters, Connell and Marianne, reveals the many varying natures of these relationships, university life, and explores issues of class and abusive relationships. It’s relatable, and asks similar questions we are asking ourselves in the United States.
I’ve recalled the book frequently in the last week since I’ve finished it, but for only one of the book’s topics: social class. Connell’s mother works as a housekeeper and serves Marianne’s family. Marianne and Connell attend secondary school together, and towards the end, their relationship begins, which leads them both to Trinity College. The “status” of their relationship fluctuates throughout the novel, so I am not giving anything away by referring to one point earlier in the book when Connell notes that the cycle of money in their lives goes something like this: His mother works for Marianne’s family, who then pays her. Connell’s mother gives him spending money, which he then often ends up spending on Marianne when they spend time together. Their class differences bothers Connell at many points in the novel.
The other morning, I sat at a local coffee shop that serves a great espresso. The day before, I’d flown in from Italy where I was visiting my sister (who is studying abroad there) and I needed two shots. Halfway through the espresso, I was already certain I would be accompanying these two shots with a cup of green tea when I arrived at my office later. I also ordered a small breakfast dish – it happens to be the cheapest one, but really I was just trying to avoid more bread after 8 days in what I dub as “the land of bread” (Europe, not just Italy. Whenever you travel to Europe, you are effectively traveling to THE Land of Bread).
I was served my oatmeal by a Menlo student. I have never spoken to her before, and while I did recognize her it took my brain far too long to place her. But I think she recognized me. I suddenly felt ashamed while eating at this café. I could have eaten at the other café nearby and would have spent the same amount of money on this breakfast, but if I had ordered anything else, the prices of this place would have climbed to a obnoxiously high.
If this student thinks anything like I did as a student, then she may feel upset that I am spending my salary, aka students’ tuition money, on this fancy little breakfast I’m having. And if she doesn’t think quite like I used to, she could just feel weird and uncomfortable about the whole thing, similar to how Connell felt weird about the cycle of money between his family and Marianne’s family.
I thought about this quite a bit at NAFSA. I was extremely stringent with my spending, making sure I kept under the budget I was allotted. I looked around at colleagues from other institutions who didn’t have to do that, who instead felt obliged to make sure they spent their entire budget (which was probably a lot bigger than mine). It feels odd, because there are a lot of young adults who go into debt attending all of our institutions, and the amount of money that goes into sending staff to conferences and providing decent benefits is not insignificant.
But in any other job, that’s often a precedent, and becoming more and more an expectation. There are articles upon articles about how Millenials – and soon Gen Z – are picky about what they are offered in a job opportunity. We want more vacation days because we see the value in rest. We want flexible hours for the same reason. We demand assistance in professional development. Without necessarily articulating it, we believe in the saying “Work smarter, not harder.”
So as I sit here reaping the benefits of my work – a double espresso, and some oatmeal with… goji berries? – is this what I should be spending my money on? Is this a responsible way to be spending this money, which may be the money that the student who served me pays Menlo in order to complete her degree? I suppose in some ways it’s ending up back in her pocket. But do we say that to make ourselves feel better?
Working in higher education as an administrator harbors weird conundrums in financial responsibility that I’m not sure any other sector has to deal with in quite the same way. It’s both political and quite personal, it involves customer service. Word on the street has been for a while now that HEIs are spending too much on administration, which is definitely true in some cases. But does working in this sector where students are struggling to pay for their degrees mean that we who sit in these positions need to suffer in the same way? Maybe. But then, no one would work in this sector long, and that would be a problem.
Many people believe that cutting back on administration will help keep costs down at universities. (Here is my young millennial response to this: LOL.) This may be true in some cases, perhaps at large universities (even this can be disputed – I haven’t worked at a large university, nor have I looked at any stats). But it’s not like those administrators aren’t doing good work. Today’s economy makes demands for more than a deep knowledge of one’s subject. And the financial beast of it all is such a big beast, I think even the higher education auditors are afraid to tackle it. So some of that “bureaucracy” may be there for a reason.
As I typically do, I come back around pointing fingers at the system we’ve set up for ourselves here. And as we consider how best to change that system, I ask that we don’t act rashly when it comes to cutting back administration. Like with everything else, let’s attempt to do this effectively in a way that serves the interests of the people who matter most here: the students.