Risk is defined as the “possibility of loss or injury” and, at some point, everyone will face a risk in their lives. These possibilities of peril may present themselves in different guises. It may be a physical risk, like undertaking a dangerous task, or an emotional risk, like getting attached to a certain people. The most often discussed emotional risk is a relationship. By that same token, relationships are frequently seen as romantic endeavors. But one type of relationship not usually regarded is the academic partnership, particularly between college students and the faculty, staff, and other administrators of the institution. Octavia Butler’s short story “Bloodchild” broaches several forms of risk and summarily explains the inherent risk of a relationship through the protagonist, Gan. In dialogue that is also our course epigraph, Gan tells T’Gatoi, “If we’re not your animals, if these are adult things, accept the risk. There is risk, Gatoi, in dealing with a partner.” Each phrase from these two sentences carries meaning for all relationships, but particularly an academic partnership. Thus, the course epigraph will be separated into segments and analyzed in context with the course syllabus and other materials; at the same time, each segment of the epigraph will also allow me to explore the different goals that I have for this class.
Gan’s first sentence is a conditional ultimatum, “If we’re not your animals, if these are adult things, accept the risk.” Of particular importance now is the phrase, “If we’re not your animals.” While this may seem extraneous—simply a part of the story—to a college writing course, as it appeared to me at first, it can be applied to that very institution. Being a college student in the U.S., or simply in the age range of a traditional college student, is peculiar because many are legal adults but must still endure limitations that may not be present in other countries, and a class discussion recently highlighted this exact contradiction. The concept of adulthood will be discussed later, but the limbo that traditionally aged college students inhabit can sometimes make them feel as though they are animals, penned in, all the same, and with little ability to may their own choices. This captive state is similar to how Terrans are kept on the Preserve in “Bloodchild”, and also harkens to Cathy Birkenstein and Gerald Graff’s book They Say/ I Say. In the introduction, the authors bring up a frequently received concern that using the templates that populate the book stifles creativity, boxing students in. While Birkenstein and Graff argue that it is quite the opposite for the templates, that they increase creativity, the same cannot always be said of the colleges and universities students attend. That is why it is extremely interesting that the SUNY Geneseo mission statement, as proffered at the beginning of the syllabus, includes a section for “Inclusivity” that seeks “respect for the unique talents and contributions of each individual.” The focus on individualism indicates the college’s desire to combat the sense of sameness students can feel in any campus, regardless of size. This sameness, in turn, can lead to parallels between students and animals.
On a similar note, the importance Geneseo supposedly places on individuality can almost be called into question in the wake of homework and class discussions wherein other institutions’ mission statements were read and the class found that each of them echoed very similar sentiments. Personally, this brought up a bevy of questions regarding the requirements, particularly for a SUNY school, that mission and diversity statements must meet. These are questions I hope to answer when Associate Counsel Seth Gilbertson visits. The assignment also sparked an interest in how academic partnerships differ based on institutions. Examples include Biola University, whose theological focus implies that the partnership will be different than a secular public school like Geneseo, and St. John’s College, whose miniscule total enrollment of 371 promises a radically different educational experience than a campus like University at Buffalo which boasts a total of 31, 503 students. All of these differences have encouraged me to learn more about how distinct academic institutions breed particular academic partnerships and the comparisons and contrasts between each.
The next conditional phrase in the epigraph is “if these are adult things,” and this applies more directly to the experience of a college student. The discussion of adulthood, or lack thereof, on a college campus is impacted literally by the age of the students, many of whom are between 18 and 21, but also metaphorically. Most, but not all, traditionally aged college students are living away from home and making significant life choices for the first time. Cognizant of that, institutions sometimes implement the in loco parentis principle, wherein they act as parental figures. Phillip Lee investigated the history of in loco parentis, which was a major doctrine used by colleges to have a hand in students’ private lives (p. 66) until the 1960s, regardless of their consent. This practice fell out of use due to several court cases, heralded by Dixon v. Alabama (1961), and despite nearly sixty years between that ruling and today, it can sometimes feel like in loco parentis is very much still alive in higher education institutions. For example, Barnard College in New York City requires guests to be signed in and continually escorted by their host when they visit residence halls. This imposition is similar to parents monitoring who their children can have visit, a process that seems strange and out of place when, as a previous paragraph explained, most people in college are legal adults.
Given experiences like the aforementioned, it is particularly noteworthy that there are several visits scheduled on the syllabus by prominent figures in SUNY Geneseo to discuss their work in the lens of “forms of consent”. Such language begs the question of how in loco parentis is, or is not, implemented on campus and in each individual’s respective positions. To elaborate, in loco parentis is the act of one body behaving parentally towards another; with parental behavior being marked by decision-making for others without their consent, because society does not yet deem those people fit to make their own decision. If a college is using in loco parentis to craft its rules and other programs, then it is likely not according proper consent to its students. Thus, I am excited at the multiple opportunities that we are provided with throughout this class to talk candidly with high level administrators about how consent informs the decisions they make on a daily basis that impact the college. In conjunction with these opportunities, one of my goals for this semester is to explore the depth of the relationship that these administrators have with the consent that they afford to the student body.
The final phrase of the first sentence and much of the next have to deal with risk. Gan tells T’Gatoi, “accept the risk. There is risk, Gatoi, in dealing with a partner.” This gets to the heart of the matter, the inherent risk of an academic partnership. Students are putting trust in an institution to teach them and fulfill the role of higher education, a faith that is both sentimental and in the form of tuition. Meanwhile, institutions rely on students to uphold certain standards, of grades and livelihood. On both sides, these hopes may not be fulfilled and even the exact opposite can happen. Yet, both continue to place at least some faith in the other. This brings about several questions. How do institutions evaluate risks and attempt to mitigate them? What detriment to the student population does this incur? Risk was displayed in a recent event reported in Business Insider, wherein a student maintained a Twitter account parodying the SUNY Geneseo official account. The school noticed this, evaluated the risk of misinformation, and ultimately asked Twitter to take down the account. This demonstrates the risks of academic partnership and also brings forth possible issues that can arise. This inspires me to learn more about the plans for risk mitigation that institutions must undergo and why they might not have plans to mitigate some risks. This comes in the wake of a blackout that left half of Geneseo’s campus without power or hot water and, at an open forum, the administrator in charge of facilities admitted that the campus did not have a plan of action if Geneseo’s aged equipment failed as it did that night. Thus, one more goal I have for this semester is to discover as much as I can regarding how administrators evaluate risk and react to its possibility.
While risk is inevitable, different beings react differently to potential peril. In an academic partnership, both sides must face the risks to get a reward, and Octavia Butler’s short story “Bloodchild” echoes this. The novella includes our course epigraph—”If we’re not your animals, if these are adult things, accept the risk. There is risk, Gatoi, in dealing with a partner”—which relates to the state of the traditional college student, both as an animal and in the limbo of adulthood, and to the inherent, unavoidable risks of having a partner. The epigraph sparks many questions about the academic partnership that higher education institutions enter into with their students. All the while, these question shave morphed into goals that I seek to have at least something akin to answers for by the end of the semester. I want to learn more about different partnerships that arise based on each academic institution, including going more in depth on the requirements that a SUNY school must meet. I’m curious about how forms of consent inform Geneseo’s administrators and how in loco parentis has evolved on this particular campus as well as in the broader sense. Finally, I want to get a better understanding of how the campus evaluates risks. Hopefully, I will move closer to some resolutions by the end of the semester and these answers can help me as I forge my own academic partnership with Geneseo.