The "Student" in Student Success

Throughout my career in higher education, I've consistently observed a gap in the understanding and respect for the holistic reality of students' lives. This perspective stems not just from my social work background, but from 18 years in college classrooms educating students.

Time and again, I've found myself becoming that safe space for students and advisees to share their stories—both good and not so good—about their experiences across campus. I've long maintained that the most significant relationship in academia isn't what happens inside the classroom—it's the connection that forms outside of it. That's where faculty and students truly see each other as human beings. When this finally clicked in my head after a few semesters teaching at my current institution, it transformed my approach to teaching, scholarship, and service.

Now, a few weeks into my new position as Acting Dean of Student Success, this truth feels more acute than ever: Our students crave connection and engage deeply within this rapport. I often tell students that their number one key to college success is cultivating relationships. The time and effort this takes is significant, but what's truly devastating is when these attempts at connection aren't reciprocated. It is not hard: just having the respect to respond to an email, this basic act, may make the difference to many students.

Creating a genuinely student-focused culture requires a fundamental shift—one that begins with cultivating more robust connections with our students. Success should be measured by the quality of the relationship.

The pandemic has widened pre-existing gaps in educational, economic, and geographic inequality, creating an even greater divide between "prepared" and "underprepared" students. But here's the reality: we serve all students who come through our doors. We cannot self-select who registers for our classes, but we do choose how we work with them. The more we understand about their lived reality outside of the classroom, the better we can support them.

I'm not suggesting we lower our expectations—rather, we should maintain high, rigorous standards while reconsidering our starting point. We excel at setting high expectations but struggle to help those starting from different points have the same opportunity to reach those expectations—even if this means giving some students more opportunities to be successful. This is where our real work lies. This is what it means to raise the floor. We need to listen to our students, respect their stories, and meet them where they are.

Recently, I attended the Illinois Higher Education Equity Conference at SIU Carbondale—two days that can only be described as paradigm-shifting. While the room was filled with bureaucrats, administrators, and high-profile faculty members, the true power came from a panel of students of color who spoke with remarkable courage. During the Q&A, someone asked about defining success through an equity and inclusion lens. One student's response stopped me in my tracks: "Success has never been defined by us—it's always been given to us. Nobody ever asked me what my definition of success is."

That moment crystallized everything for me. The audacity of that student to stand up and speak that truth to a room full of legislators and university administrators—that's the kind of transformation we need in higher education. If we want to address retention issues and truly support student success, we need to start by listening to our students and understanding success through their eyes.

I am taking some concrete steps forward. This semester, I'm conducting focus groups with students in remedial courses to understand their academic struggles from the Fall. This insight will not only inform our programming but provide valuable data to campus about these students' lived experiences. Additionally, we're redesigning our University Foundations course for first-time, full-time freshmen, which will include a comprehensive survey to create a profile of our incoming class to share with the campus community.

These are easy steps, too. So let's rethink how we see our students. They are not numbers, statistics, or quotas. They are human beings. And when enrollment decisions matter, especially retention concerns and a looming demographic cliff, the best choices will always be made based on the quality of relationships we build.

All we need is the courage to do it.