Blog Posts

"Navigating Loneliness as an Undergraduate" by Maggie Jenkins

3/1/2019

“College will be the best years of your life.” These words, spoken by countless adults, fueled me through my last year of high school. Every time that I felt overwhelmed with frustration, I calmed myself with the thought that everything could be different in college -- I could be more confident, take better care of my mental and physical health, and grow into the person I was “supposed” to be. Sure, there was a part of me that was worried about making friends, and the idea of not seeing my friends and family (and my dog!) made me sad, but I generally had high hopes for college.

When I actually arrived at college, I found that forming a new friend group was a lot more difficult than I thought. Even though I knew that most people want to make new friends, everyone puts out the image that they’ve already found a group, which made them seem much harder to approach. Especially in such a large university, it’s intimidating to “find your people” amongst thousands of strangers. Even though I had the built-in friendship of my sister and her boyfriend, who are both MSU students as well, I couldn’t help but miss having my own group of friends. Because of this, my first semester of college was defined by an unexpected, overwhelming loneliness.

Loneliness reaches beyond just being bored or missing your friends and family. When left unaddressed, it soon turns into a looming feeling of sadness and inadequacy that spreads into all areas of your life. Because of my loneliness, I began losing drive to get through my classes. Even though they were in some ways a distraction from my lack of a social life, they also felt like a reminder of it: it seemed that every other student was thriving where I had failed.

I am still in my first year, and honestly things have not yet made a dramatic shift for the better. But one important thing has changed: I stopped denying to myself and others that I was having a problem, and that that problem was seriously affecting my life. I know it’s cliché to say that accepting you have a problem is the first step to getting better, but it’s true. By confiding in friends at different colleges, I found that my own loneliness is not unusual. Merely knowing this helped me to stop beating myself up over it. So, my advice to current and future undergraduates is as follows:

Don’t be afraid to approach others with friendship -- college is new for everyone, and they are probably just as in need of a friend as you are.
Be patient with yourself. Even though it seems like it at times, there is no time-constraint on making new friends.
If you feel isolated because you haven’t made close friends, talk to somebody about it, whether it’s your family, your friends from high school, or a counselor. It can be difficult to do, but you will feel so much less alone.

“Mentorship networks: What they are, what they are good for, and how they are built.” by Ignacio D. Acevedo-Polakovich, PhD, MSU Community-AID Laboratory Lead

2/15/2019

Mentorship is a term that researchers and practitioners often use when discussing their professional development. It refers to a formative relationship between a mentee (i.e., a person who is ilearning) and a mentor (i.e., a person who teaches). In this blog, I would like to present you with the idea that developing a network of mentors is much better for your professional development than relying on a single mentor.
Why have mentors?
1. Perhaps the foremost reason to have a network of mentors is that no one mentor is likely to be an expert on every single thing that there is to know about your professional development. Having multiple mentors raises the probability that you can access guidance from a knowledgeable person.

For example, in my own career I’ve relied on relatively recent job applicants for practical guidance on job searching and on more experienced faculty members for guidance on avoiding common mistakes that job applicants make. Having access to both groups of mentors allows for a more complete picture of the job search process, and ultimately a more successful search. The same principle applies to most domains of professional development in both research and practice.

2. Another reason to develop multiple mentors is that your relationships with each of them will naturally wax and wane repeatedly over time. Having multiple mentors raises the possibility of accessing someone who is ideally motivated to support you exactly at the time you need it.

The most poignant example from my own career came when a mentor that I most often rely on for advice on publishing and writing faced an unfortunate series of health and family problems. Demanding her time and resources under those conditions would have been selfish and indelicate of me. Having other mentors to rely on allowed me to receive the guidance that I needed in order to continue meeting my professional demands, and freed my time so that I could honor and support my mentor through difficult times.

3. Having multiple mentors fosters freedom and independence. I run into colleagues whose reliance on one or only a few mentors has limited their professional choices (e.g., “I wish I could apply for that job, but I don’t know anyone in that system” or “I can’t publish this, it goes directly against what X has been saying for years.”). I’ve had only a few experiences where I have felt as they do. It is unpleasant to feel that after all the work you’ve put into experiencing success in your field, your growth is inordinately affected by the whims of a person who you have little influence upon.

Whenever I’ve discovered that my professional environments make success contingent on unfailing alliance to one particular person or set of ideas, I have immediately begun looking elsewhere (a decision most always supported by the mentors in my network).

4. This brings me to a final benefit of mentorship networks–support. Because you are human, you will make mistakes regarding your professional development. When this happens, it is wonderful to have available to you a number of mentors outside of your immediate professional context that can help you navigate back to a sound professional course.

In the midst of my worst professional decisions, it has been my mentors who have helped me plot the course out of those decisions, and whose support has led me to believe a successful resolution is possible.

I’m sold, how do I build a mentorship network?
Before discussing specific tactics, I ask you to consider that it is difficult, if not impossible, to be mentored without being humble. Mentors are willing to provide something that you do not have (e.g., knowledge, a skill, experience, a professional contact, etc.) in exchange for the satisfaction of seeing you avoid a pitfall that they encountered or watching you develop. Demanding and entitled attitudes on the part of mentees (often soon to be “former mentees”) are unlikely to foster mentors’ willingness to continue to assist you. Humility, appreciativeness, and graciousness seem to best honor the benefits received from your mentors.

As for where to begin, I think that it is best to begin building mentors within your natural environment. Among graduate students, perhaps the most natural mentors are faculty and other students. For lack of humility, I’ve seen students ignore incredibly helpful information provided to them by their peers. For lack of appreciation, I’ve seen these peers (and faculty) stop sharing helpful information with “could have been mentees.” The medieval philosopher Dominic of Guzman is said to have written “appreciate all wisdom you encounter, irrespective of its source.” That is an incredibly productive attitude if you are looking to develop mentors. I’ve received incredible advice from people that I’ve not expected it from, often ones who I am not personally drawn to. Making sure to note the appreciation that I have for their wisdom (e.g., through written or verbal comments) has ensured more wisdom in the future.

A second natural place to seek mentors is through programs and structures developed specifically for this purpose. Many educational institutions, programs, and professional societies have formal mentoring or professional development programs. If you find one that works for you, you’ve found a rare commodity that you should not undervalue.

Professional societies provide one final place to identify potential mentors and develop mentors. The more you interact with people who share your interests, the more you are likely to find some among them who are willing to guide you. When you find these people, honor and appreciate them. I’ve met some of my most valued mentors and mentees (some of whom in turn have mentored me in specific domains) sitting in the audience of a professional presentation or over lunch at a workshop.

Some final observations

Here are some things that I’ve learned on the road to developing and maintaining my own mentorship networks.
1. I repeat, and will repeat it again and again, humility and appreciation go a long way. If a person is helpful to you, let them know it. A doctoral student recently came into my office frustrated that I had stopped giving her direction as I did before. Her frustration was surprising to me as I had scaled down my advice based on the lack of feedback from her about it. It is my job to teach all students at my institution. It is my pleasure and privilege to be able to mentor some. I don’t want to impose, so I am unlikely to mentor people who fail to provide me a sense that my mentorship is valued.
2. Initiative can work miracles. I once wondered out loud why a friend of mine got advice from one of our mentors that I –despite having more contact with this mentor- did not get. Her answer: I ask. Lesson learned, I now ask. I don’t always get an answer (or the answer I want), but –unsurprisingly- the net amount of times that I do get an answer has increased exponentially.
3. Not everyone can mentor you. There are several people that I respect and admire who I’ve hoped to develop mentorship relationships with, but these have never materialized. While the reasons for this may be varied (e.g., lack of time, lack of personal compatibility. etc.), one thing I’ve learned is not to take it personally. Sometimes the inability to form a mentorship relationship has stemmed from an identifiable reason that helps me grow, others it has not. In either case, it is good self-care to learn as much as you can from that event and then move on with your life and professional development.

In my own life, I often refer students and colleagues who seek advice or consultation from me to someone else. It is not because I do not like or value these people. Much to the contrary, it is because I value them that I refer them to someone who can serve them better than I can at the time.

4. The way you make mentors will likely match your personality. I have a colleague (that is at times a mentor to me) who has the enviable ability to walk up to seemingly anyone and enlist their help. Although I am sure that the process is at times effortful for her, observed from the outside it seems graceful and uncomplicated. As much as I’ve tried to develop that skill and will continue to work at it, it is still something that does not come naturally to me. However, for reasons I don’t fully understand I seem to do well at contributing effectively to committees, workforces, and other such groups. It is within these groups that I have forged many of my mentoring relationships. I have colleagues who develop mentoring networks through social engagements at conferences such as informal lunches, tours, etc.

While it is wise for everyone to take advantage of as many opportunities to develop mentoring relationships as they are afforded, not everyone will excel at the same types of opportunities. Find your strength and build from it.

Author’s note: A first version of this blog entry was written Ignacio Acevedo, PhD, about ten years ago. At that time, it was featured in the Multicultural Mentoring blog by the Society of Clinical Psychology’s Section on the Clinical Psychology of Ethnic Minorities. (APA Division 12, Section 6). In 2014, a lightly copyedited version was reposted on the American Psychological Association of Graduate Students’ gradPSYCH Blog. Ignacio has significantly copyedited the original version for this current post.

Among graduate students, perhaps the most natural mentors are faculty and other students.
(Several Community-AID team members at a recent conference. From left to right; Erica Nordquist, Lauren Vollinger, Lucas Al-Zoughbi, Audrey Von-Maszewski, Ignacio Acevedo, and Meg Normand).

"A bird touched by humans" by Malu Castro

2/6/2019

Thinking on what I should write for this blog, I was confronted by the realization that I firmly believe that this place (read: the academy, MSU, Lansing, the U.S.) was not and cannot be made for me. The novelty of that realization was not from the thought (because I have definitely thought it before), but instead from the recognition that I didn’t know how to explain to others how to survive here. Instead, I will (re)tell the story that taught me how to recognize others like me and the paths we (re)tread. It is a story that was woven for me from bodies and histories by an elder of mine when we first met. We were flying back from a research conference, I, the last person on the plane, him, thankful for how small the last person on the plane was. It’s a story about a bird. For most it will always be a story about a bird, but the others will know. That’s a win-win to me.

*****

Imagine you are a bird, but not a bald eagle. Anything, but a fucking bald eagle unless you are from their place and you know what’s up. So, you might be a nene down by the coffee roasters in Kaunakakai or perhaps you are an iquaca taking the day off with the family on Gilligan's Island. You are just minding your own business eating, breathing, pooping, and fucking when a human grabs you. You’ve heard stories about them. You know they have vivisected more than a few of your kin for being too much predator and not enough prey.

But these ones just grab a few of you and ask you to mimic their voices. From behind their clipboards they watch you intently as they play the song “This Land is your Land” on repeat. Each one listening to see if one your hoots or whistles matches Woody Guthrie’s voice. A few of you start tapping your talons to the rhythm guitar and eventually one or two of you even sing along. Not wanting to be upstaged, or left out, you join in on the fun. As time goes on the humans start to choose their favorites and identify the birds that sound most like a human. In that selection process, they take the ones who aren’t doing as well away and come back with full bellies.

Now you are worried. You know that you have to keep getting better at mimicking that boy “from” Oklahoma. You don’t know if you will live, but you aren’t ready to die yet. So, you sing and sing and sing until one day it is just you left. The humans cheer and congratulate you on your achievement. They show you a paper with the title, “The Utility of American Folk Music in Producing Human Like Vocalizations among Avians.” They pat you on the back and whisk you away back to your [INSERT ISLAND, FOREST, DESERT, TUNDRA, HOME].

Stepping onto the land, the songs of your birdkin flood the cavern in your mind left from your captivity. Imagine the weight of freedom for something light enough to fly. Fearfully, you make your way toward their nests, unsure if all that song and dance you learned robbed you of your birthrights. With nothing to go back to and everything ahead of you, you leap…

...thank the ancestors that you didn’t forget how to sing or fly.

Up in the air, you make your way to your birdkin, but before you can get close they call out to you in their/your song, “Who goes there?” You respond in song and exclaim the new tricks you learned among those who can’t fly. Some singular voices inquire about your time away, if you’re alright, and what you learned, but the song of the flock is too loud as it proclaims, “You smell like human!” You try to retort in your tongue and explain that you now know the tongue of your kidnappers, but the flock does not recognize you. You spent too much time in cages eating pellets and being touched by human hands. You carry the smell of the kidnapper with you.

Alone once again, you try to call out to your family, friends, and lovers, but none come to sit by you on the branch that you first flew from. You grow older and spend your time on the outside of the flock, ever vigilant of when they might see you as an intruder. Throughout the years you watch as humans come back more frequently and take more and more of your kin. The flock grows thin and anxiety permeates the song of your people. Eventually, other birds are returned and are excluded. Knowing their loneliness, you come by and gather them up after they are left behind by the flock. You will share with them how the song of the humans is not a gift, a boon, or a tool. It is a weapon. It is a reminder of what they want and a warning of what they will do.

This small conclave of yours grows, and as it grows, you speak of the horrors you have seen among the humans. Things so horrible there aren’t words for it in birdsong so you can only speak of them through the voice of Woody Guthrie. So profuse are the horrors of humanity, that you start frantically singing it in their presence. In time, the flock starts to pay attention to the minority singing, “This Land is your Land” whenever humans are around. The flock doesn’t trust you, but they know to run when you start singing. With time, the song of the flock (still punctuated with anxiety) proclaims, “Work on being smelly.”

Now, your task, along with the rest of the human smelling birds, is to relearn how to smell like a bird. It’s not like riding a bike. It’s more like performing a mating dance, killing your food, and enjoying the smell of bird musk/filth. These are things that can be taught and learned, but there are no lyrics to them. You just have to trust (and listen to) your feathers, blood, and body. Being in one’s scent isn’t about being identified as part of the flock, but about showing that you are willing to be in the muck of it - that you have skin in the game. You will probably fail to smell like you once did, but that’s okay because now you know how hard it is to be smelly. Either way, you are just a bird and this story isn’t an analogy.

"The Importance of Personal Connections in Graduate School" by Lauren Vollinger

11/27/2018

Over the past year, I’ve realized that personal connections are the most important thing to have in graduate school. No, I don’t mean professional networking connections. I mean the personal acquaintances, friendships, and familial ties that keep us going from day to day when all we want to do is take a nap or drop out to get a “big kid job.”

I’m not the first person to say this and I certainly won’t be the last… Social support is essential to being successful in graduate school. In true academic fashion, I decided to see if there was any research to back this up, and sure enough, there is!

Researchers from Penn State University found that social support from 1) academic friends, 2) family, and 3) advisors are all necessary for successful graduate degree completion. Having support from each of these groups is beneficial because they all contribute something different to your emotional well-being. For example, academic friends can be great at helping develop and encourage new ideas, whereas family can provide practical support such as helping with household chores, providing child care, and making sure their loved one remembers to eat!

I was fortunate enough to receive varying levels of support from people in all three groups over the past few months. Some people sent money and gift cards for me to get myself some coffee on long writing days while others sent impeccably well-timed words of encouragement via text or on social media. What surprised me was how impactful the smallest gesture could be, particularly from people or at times I least expected. The camaraderie among students in my graduate program is wonderfully unique, my family seems to always find ways to support me from afar, and my advisors do everything in their power to ensure I succeed. For that I feel incredibly lucky.

All this to say, any type of support you can offer a graduate student (or anyone) has the power to make a larger impact than you may realize. For those that have been there for me, thank you for being constant sources of support and happiness in my life. You all sure know how to make a salty, cranky, sleep-deprived, stressed-out girl feel like she can keep pressing on.

Jairam, D., & Kahl Jr, D. H. (2012). Navigating the doctoral experience: The role of social support in successful degree completion. International Journal of Doctoral Studies, 7, 311-329.

"A Young Academic’s Rules to Live By" By Taylor Layne Crisman

11/6/2018

My introduction to undergraduate studies was a unique one. My first course was an honors course titled, “Our Search for Meaning.” Pretty heavy stuff. Many of the experiences from that course will stay with me for the rest of my life, but one of the most impactful moments was when my professor, Dr. Planer, shared a list he had compiled titled, “Dr. Planer’s Rules to Live By.” Throughout his life, he has pondered lessons learned and continually updates the list of rules he wants to live by. After sharing his list, he gave us an assignment to create our own.

I had just turned 19 and had never thought of myself as wise. As other students shared the same concern, I realized I was not alone. Dr. Planer assured us that we all had wisdom and knowledge to share. To this day, I look back on this lesson and remind myself that my experiences are valuable. To celebrate 4 years since the original draft of my own lessons to live by, I decided to create a list of lessons specifically for academics.

A Young Academic’s Top 5 Rules to Live By:

Embrace failure. This has, oddly enough, become pretty common advice. When I was a kid, I was never really told that failure was okay. Now, I have reframed failure as a window of opportunity that opens when a door is slammed in your face. From my experience, this rule of embracing failure is incredibly important. My plans have fallen apart so many times throughout my studies. However, as I worked to piece them back together, I’ve learned important things about myself and discovered new research interests and career opportunities.
Establish work-life balance. During my first two years of undergrad, I worked and studied nearly all hours of the day and night, rarely making time for my family and friends. I fell into the trap of “romanticizing the exhausted college student.” After those first two years, I realized how important it is to establish a balance between the work I care so much about and my personal life. We are people first, academics second. Make time for the people and activities that matter to you outside of your academic life.
Appreciate your peers and mentors. Nobody enters academia as a superstar. We are all a result of the hard work, dedication, and mentorship of those we encounter during our academic journey. This is not to say that we are not capable, intelligent individuals. I simply mean that we should appreciate our peers and mentors, because they help make our ventures and successes possible. This should not be taken lightly.
Be trustworthy. A common theme I have encountered in all of the academic settings I have been in is the importance of trust. We rely a great deal on being able to trust those we work with. In fact, most labs operate as teams, where trust is a crucial component. Be a trustworthy teammate!
Be unrealistic. This is my favorite lesson of all. My undergraduate advisor, Dr. David Johnson, taught me this. Throughout my entire undergraduate experience, he never encouraged me to set realistic expectations. Rather, he encouraged me to apply for long-shot grants, conferences, lab gigs, etc. He helped me realize that I don’t have to choose educational or career paths that are safe or expected. This rule continues to bring amazing experiences into my life and I wouldn’t be where I am today without it.

I plan on adding to this list throughout my lifetime as an academic, and I highly encourage others to create their own lists. Looking back on the original list I made four years ago was a great way to reflect on my experiences and note areas of personal growth. As a burgeoning academic, I think this is a particularly great exercise. It’s a great way to remember why you chose the path you did and what you’ve learned along the way. Thanks, Dr. Planer, for introducing me to this great practice!

"Grad school 'on the other side' (of parenting)" by Sara Stacy

10/19/2018

I am currently entering my fourth year as a graduate student in the Ecological-Community Psychology program and partner in the Community-AID Laboratory. That being said, a lot of things feel normal and routinized: I am getting started on coursework and readings, departmental and program events are happening on a more regular basis, projects and manuscripts are in full swing, and I am *eagerly* balancing all of the responsibilities that come with each of those domains. However, this year also feels different for me, because it is the first semester in which I will be doing all of these things as a mom.

I am now the mom of a happy little 7-month chunk of a child, who has brought so much love and light into my family life. It has truly been a whirlwind of emotions, but getting to watch him grow, learn, and change has been such a fun experience for my partner and I. With the great joy of that experience also comes some great challenges. I now have another human being I need to consider in all of my decisions. My work schedule is completely dependent on my child and family life. And “working from home” has become a great challenge when you have an adorable little munchkin that just wants to play peek-a-boo or snuggle and does not necessarily prioritize those three articles you have to read for your class.
Since becoming a mom as a graduate student, people are now impressed with my ability to still “get things done.” But the truth is that it doesn’t really feel very impressive at all, because I am just doing what needs to be done, in a way that works best for me. I know my other graduate students have a ton of other things that demand their time, and my experience isn’t that different from theirs. (The only exception perhaps is that my personal demand is objectively the cutest type of demand ever.) I think it is important for all students to to have a life outside of their graduate school experience and each of us must balance both our school and personal life in unique ways.

Balancing my identity as a mother and a student hasn’t drastically changed the way I view work, school, or family, but it has helped me to learn a few lessons in these first seven months that I’d like to share here.

Make your breaks count. Since I started working after having my son, my partner and I have made it part of our weekly routine to have lunch together on campus as a family as frequently as we can. This has been a great addition to my week to get some additional quality time during the work day. Before having a child, I might have spent a break from work just mindlessly scrolling on Facebook or reading some article online, but now I am spending my breaks in a more thoughtful and intentional way, which has really helped my mental sanity. Even just forcing myself to get out of the office has been a great component of my work schedule, and I think it is something that everyone can benefit from. I am certainly not the first person to come to this conclusion, but I am definitely a strong advocate for it now.
Work intentionally and with purpose. Since becoming a mom, I really do not have time to waste. I have found that this drastically changes the efficiency and productivity in the work I do . Whenever I am working, I always feel a sense of urgency because every hour of work is an extra hour away from my son and my family who I absolutely love. That being said, I really try to work intentionally. I minimize the distractions, focus in on the task at hand, and try to get things done in the time I have. Again, this is not necessarily a new or novel idea, but I think it is an important lesson. Get work done in the time you have allotted, and work as hard as you can when you have the time. Then, put it away and live your life until the next time you come back to it.
You are more than the work you do. Within work domains, and academia specifically, many of us feel that we are diminished to the work we produce. You are constantly demanded so many different actions and people. expect. so. much. of. you. Before having a son, I think I had the tendency to always be thinking about the work I could or should be doing, and diminish views of myself, and sometimes others, based on the work I was able to accomplish during a particular day or week. Since becoming a mom, I am constantly reminded: I am more than the work I do. I am more than the articles I read, the presentations I give, the manuscripts I publish, and the projects I complete. Thinking of myself in this view reminds me that the people I work with, too, are more than the work they accomplish. They also do other great things with their time that deserve to be recognized. I try to remember this when working with folks and see them first as a human being that I get to share my time with, and second as a work partner or colleague.

Again, these are not new and novel insights, but I have recognized the importance of each of these lessons since becoming a mom, and I hope that grad students and other people find them helpful.

"The Pressures of Being 'Successful' as a First-Generation College Student" by Karina Mojica

8/8/2018

“Graduate school?” my older siblings question. It’s not something that is common in my family nor is college in general. “Are you going to go far again?” they continue to ask. I shrug, “maybe”. We all stay silent.

In my immediate family, my sister was the first to go to college. Everyone felt a certain pride that she had made it that far, and were confident that I would follow in her footsteps. Which, I did. The thing they never thought of nor I completely had thought of was what lay beyond my four years in undergrad. Its difficult having to explain to your family and friends that you’re not quite done yet. There is still a long way to go before you can begin the coveted successful career your parents hope for. Not to mention that there is also a massive amount of pressure to “put my education to good use” from my older siblings. As I rant about school, my father and mother smile and nod, and all they can really say is “we support you, because the more education you get, the better you’ll be, right?” Constantly reminding me that I didn’t have to worry about anything besides school is a thought that lingers on in my head. What they don’t seem to understand is the amount of stress these expectations can cause.

As I think of graduate schools, I can’t help but think of things like, is graduate school right for me? Do I have what it takes to go through with it? Which program is correct for me and how do I make sure I’m good enough for it? These thoughts seem silly, but at the same time, it’s difficult to find the relief you need when there aren’t many people to turn to.

When I first began college, I didn’t doubt myself as much, but I also had no sense of what direction I wanted to take. I didn’t know what I was majoring in and I didn’t know what I wanted to do. All I could really say was that I wanted to do something that involves helping people, in particular, people who were minorities like me. After taking various classes, I realized that I wanted to work in schools, where I could interact with children. I wanted to become someone that was professionally equipped to work with them, but also someone they could rely on. After that, I declared as a Psychology and Spanish double major with intentions of becoming some sort of counselor that could advocate for mental health and be the support I would have liked to have in my school as a student.

When I applied for the Summer Research Opportunities program at Michigan State University, I didn’t expect a summer experience like this one. Being given the opportunity to conduct research and work closely with faculty and graduate students has provided me immense relief. Not only was I able to perform research on a topic that was of high interest to me, but I was able to familiarize myself with the organization of a lab in a research institution, and most importantly meet amazing mentors who could better guide my postsecondary journey.

By going through their undergrad training process, I was able to narrow my research and graduate school interests, as well as calm my continuous concerns. Throughout my two months here, I visited and interviewed various faculty, staff, alumni, graduate students, and partners of the lab to learn more about their passions and current jobs. I was interested in learning about how they ended up where they were. As for the research aspect of this program, I was super interested on the topic of Community Schools. While at first, I didn’t know too much about them, I would have never guessed the amount of information I would have read and learned on them, as well as their contribution to society. With all of this, my aspirations were strengthened in that I wanted continue working in schools, but that I was also interested in implementation research! I am focused on promoting the well-being of students, but I also want to use evidence-based practices that can evaluate and recommend interventions for practices in communities with low-income minorities.

This summer I learned to let the daunting expectations of “being successful” go and learned to truly embrace the opportunities granted to me. I was able build a great relationship with my mentor and the lab, and met many amazing scholars in the program. By learning about everyone’s passions, dreams, and what drives their desires, I learned that if I truly wanted to go to graduate school, I had to go for what drives me. I will have to set goals to give me a sense of what I need to do and what I want get out of graduate school. In the long-run, it’s about where I see myself in the future and who I hope to help.

I do know that I will attend graduate school, however, that won’t be for another year or so. Instead of giving into family and peer pressures and attending right away, I’m going to take some more time to continue to look and reflect on what I want to get out of my graduate school experience as well as what I what I want to accomplish after I receive my degree. In the meantime, all I can really say is that know I want to work to provide supports to communities like mine, so that students like me can grow up with people who were once in their shoes. I want other first-generation students to understand that with every new experience comes new doubts and fears, which eventually will go away because we’ll have to make room for new experiences and all of the feelings that come with them.

"Letter of Recommendation: A Gap Year Before Graduate School" by Meg Normand

5/8/2018

For much of my undergraduate career, I had a plan for my life: graduate, go to graduate school, and then work at my job that I’d prepared for in graduate school. This plan was halted when professionals during my undergraduate experiences explicitly told me NOT to follow that plan. I was told that I should take at least a year off school, or a “gap year,” before moving onto graduate school. Although I initially rejected this advice, I’m happy I decided to listen to it.

Originally, the idea of taking time off school before graduate school didn’t make sense to me. I worried that taking a gap year would mean one less year of working at my “actual” job. I worried that losing the momentum from 16 years of schooling meant that I would never return. I worried that a future graduate program might think that I’m not serious about their program because I took a break to do something else. When I began working in the Community-AID Lab, though, I found that almost the opposite happened.

Students often use their gap years to pursue an internship, volunteer, complete a fellowship, or work in their career field. During my gap year experience, I decided to volunteer as an AmeriCorps VISTA serving in the Community-AID Lab. In this position, I’ve (among other things) assisted on a wide-scale implementation of a community school program, led a project to evaluate needs within a local non-profit housing organization, and worked on a research project focusing on Medicaid reimbursement within schools. While I was an undergrad, I had multiple part-time and full-time internships and several research experiences. While I learned a lot, nothing compares to the amount I’ve been able to learn working full-time for an extended period of time.

As someone who is interested in pursuing a degree in public health, specifically health policy, my position in the Community-AID Lab aligns well with my future studies and career. I’ve learned firsthand how communities implement community-based programs that are either directly or indirectly related to the social determinants of health. I’ve also worked with a team to publish research in academic journals. During this experience, I’ve honed my research and practice interests, which focuses on the intersection of federal-level legislation and the community-level impacts of policies.

While a gap year may not be right for everyone, I recommend that everyone thinking about going to graduate school, thinks about taking a gap year. I’m more competitive for a graduate-level program because of the significant amount of research and practice experience I’ve gained this year. Through this experience, I sharpened my research and career interests, which means I’ve been able to focus on applying to graduate programs that closely align with these interests. Now that I’m sure that I’ll enjoy and succeed at these graduate programs, I’m more excited to go to graduate school than I was during undergrad.

I had assumed I would go to undergrad, grad school, and then start my career. It seemed like a very simple path. Now that I’m almost finished with my year in the Community-AID Lab, I understand the perspective of the professionals I spoke with during undergrad. I am now more sure that I want to go to grad school and I’m more competitive for a graduate program. I now understand that a productive gap year can be beneficial and I recommend recent grads consider taking at least a year off of school before moving to the next degree.

"Academic Critical Consciousness: An Ongoing Conversation" by Lucas Al-Zoughbi

4/3/2018

Lucas Al-Zoughbi, first year doctoral student in the Ecological-Community Psychology program.

APOLITICAL INTELLECTUALS BY OTTO RENE CASTILLO

Apolitical Intellectuals

One day
the apolitical
intellectuals
of my country
will be interrogated
by the simplest
of our people.

They will be asked
what they did
when their nation died out
slowly,
like a sweet fire
small and alone.

No one will ask them
about their dress,
their long siestas
after lunch,
no one will want to know
about their sterile combats
with “the idea
of the nothing”
no one will care about
their higher financial learning.

They won’t be questioned
on Greek mythology,
or regarding their self-disgust
when someone within them
begins to die
the coward’s death.

They’ll be asked nothing
about their absurd
justifications,
born in the shadow
of the total lie.

On that day
the simple men will come.
Those who had no place
in the books and poems
of the apolitical intellectuals,
but daily delivered
their bread and milk,
their tortillas and eggs,
those who drove their cars,
who cared for their dogs and gardens
and worked for them,
and they’ll ask:

“What did you do when the poor
suffered, when tenderness
and life
burned out of them?”

Apolitical intellectuals
of my sweet country,
you will not be able to answer.

A vulture of silence
will eat your gut.

Your own misery
will pick at your soul.

And you will be mute in your shame.

What is the role of the Academy (intellectuals) today? What has the role of the Academy been historically? What is the Academy? These are big questions that should be answered on a regular basis in conversation with each other. I think of helicopter researchers that drop down, collect data, and fly off. I think of the state of our world, my country, my family, my friends, and strangers. I think of Nelson Henderson’s often repeated “meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit”. I contemplate climate change and the realities of the suffering that will follow, and how they will mostly be felt by people of color in countries that are less developed according to Western standards. This is particularly relevant as March 22, 2018 is World Water Day, and water is one of the resources most important for survival and most affected by climate change. I recall my visit to South Africa for a conference of young leaders from around the world working for justice. The conference was held at Stellenbosch University, which was referred to as the brains of Apartheid. I think of all this, and I question my decision to enroll and actively pursue a role in the Academy. I am reminded of why I chose to continue my engagement with the Academy when I attend my courses, the lab meetings at the Community-AID, and meet with my advisor. In those contexts, there is space for learning about ways we can further the dismantling of oppressive power imbalances and historical inequities that have dominated traditional research in the Academy. I have come to the conclusion that being a part of the academy while having a commitment to justice, does not necessarily mean foregoing justice. However, our membership in the Academy as community psychologists should have an undertone of a dialectic conversation, which means weighing the options and the outcomes of those options; thinking about thesis and antithesis of our continued relationship with the Academy. We must be reflective about our position in the broader historical context of injustice and ways we leverage our positions to either dismantle or enforce the oppressive status quo.

I chose community psychology because I saw the opportunity to bridge my experiences with psychology and peace studies. This field is one that does not require nor suggest that I should be apolitical. Rather, I can engage in research that is guided by my experiences and with the goal of correcting injustices and inequities. Despite my conflicted feelings of being part of the Academy, I see the potential to engage with community members and serve as a bridge by which the distinctions between the Academy and broader society are dismantled. Though I have yet to come to a conclusion of whether this is the most effective path in my pursuit of justice, I do also realize that this is a path that will likely lead to more security in my personal life and future. Sustaining the possibility of my work for justice in the future and equipping me with the skills needed to shift structures of injustice. I don’t know if I will come to a definite answer concerning my role in the Academy as a mechanism for change or a means by which I am complicit. I will conclude this reflection with Audre Lorde’s prominent “the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” Can we bring about justice through the Academy, in spite of a foundation of sexism, racism, and elitism? Is this what an academic critical consciousness would like?

"Unfamiliarity Breeds Personal Growth" by Audrey Von-Maszweski

2/27/2018

As a stereotypical high--strung perfectionist, I’m very accustomed to having a routine and knowing what I’m getting myself into. Throughout my four years of high school I knew exactly what to expect every single day: go to school, rush to dance class at exactly 2:30pm, and start my homework around 10pm after greeting my family before they crawled into bed.

   By the time senior year arrived, I was certain I would attend the University of Michigan and become a Wolverine like my mom. If you had told me that I would instead be offered a scholarship and paid research position at Michigan State University--an opportunity I’d be crazy to pass up--I wouldn’t have believed you. It was quite literally the first time in my life where everything completely deviated from the plan. Before I knew it I was a part of the Spartan community, the biggest rival of my previous dream school.

   Upon joining the Community-AID Lab, I was surprised to find that I was the only undergraduate to be a part of this group of individuals with infinitely more experience in the research field than myself. Before I knew it I was given the opportunity to organize a teen dating violence intervention within a Michigan public school district. Immediately I thought to myself, “how on earth do I have the authority to do any of this?”. I had previous experience with organizing a similar program my senior year in Massachusetts, but never as a researcher from a respectable university.

   With the arrival of February--Dating Violence Awareness Month--our lab lead assigned me a research task pertaining to gender equality that could potentially result in a published paper with my name under authorship. I have a great poker face: upon being assigned the project I appeared confident in my abilities to do the job correctly. But on the inside, I again asked myself how the hell anyone could put this much trust in an 18 year old to get this job done.

   Even as I get more comfortable working within the field of research, I still constantly get the feeling that I have no idea what I’m doing and that I’ll royally screw everything up. That said, I’ve learned this feeling isn’t a result of those around me misjudging my competence--it’s due to the fact that for the first time in my life I’ve been asked to do a job that is out of my comfort zone and was never in my previous life plan. Truthfully I’d be much more comfortable with the school directors asking me to get onstage and perform a full ballet than advising them on a possible intervention for their students. However, staying in your comfort zone only results in stagnation. I haven’t even completed my first year of undergraduate education and I’ve broadened my skill set more than I ever thought possible. Growth can only result from saying yes to unfamiliar and even uncomfortable experiences, but more importantly, a willingness to learn and challenge yourself. You have to be willing to take a backseat and become satisfied with baby steps, but the personal growth in payoff will be monumental.