Abstract
Higher education has recently been under the microscope and subject to critical analysis. Rising costs, student debt, the challenge of graduates finding employment, academia’s effort to stay ahead of the supply and demand for employment and corresponding required career skills, the focus on research at the expense of teaching, and in some cases claims that educators are earning exorbitant compensation have all permeated discussions and the literature (Hacker & Dreyfus, 2010; Supiano, 2015; U.S. Government Accountability Office, 2012). Editor Genevieve Shaker not only acknowledges these as real and justified concerns in the opening chapter of this multi-author volume but also proposes that they do not paint a complete picture of what occurs in higher education, particularly the efforts of faculty members. She draws broadly from the various roles she has assumed in higher education and suggests, as do the other authors, that philanthropy can be an effective frame for examining and presenting what faculty members do to contribute to the public good and why they do it. Specifically Shaker asserts, “The expectation to meet society’s needs for an educated citizenry and societal requirements to advance and disseminate knowledge lend a philanthropic component to the act of being a faculty member” (p. 11).
This book is organized into four additional themes beyond the conceptualization of philanthropy in faculty work. It also includes an examination of what motivates faculty members’ work, how philanthropy is a component of being an academic professional, faculty leadership and community engagement, and how the future of academic work can impact the public good. Every chapter is highly recommended because collectively, this book broadly addresses how the work of faculty members can constitute philanthropic contributions to the public good. However, limited space here prevents acknowledging all of the 17 chapters, their authors, and their important content.
The book opens by prompting faculty to reflect on their work, and this reflection expands to consider questions posed by the other authors. Marty Sulek asks whether our efforts to support our institutions financially and/or through service are personal choices or represent expectations of all faculty. Ann Austin asks whether we view our careers as callings, propelling us to go beyond expectations to maximize our intellectual and energy capacity to serve humanity. Thomas Nelson-Laird reminds us that faculty time is a finite resource and one that is measured in specific increments by the academy in various ways such as deadlines for research grants, semesters, tenure clocks, and other examples. When faculty engage in teaching, research, or community engagement, time typically is sacrificed in other areas. Faculty cannot manufacture more time within a 24-hr day but they have some discretion on how to use that precious time available after fulfilling their core requirements, although the ability to use such discretion is diminishing. This environment puts a premium on such time. In spite of that, he reports data from the Faculty Survey of Student Engagement (FSSE) that shows the average faculty member engages in 15 hours of philanthropic activity per week. The data is conservative given the questions about such activities in the FSSE were not representative in their breadth.
Emily Moore and J. Herman Blake describe their effort that successfully increased graduation rates for Black students at their institution. This was successful in spite of their administration’s effort to have them instead focus on their scholarship and teaching and remind them that graduation rates were the responsibility of other departments. Moore and Blake went beyond their core scholarship and teaching responsibilities to engage in a deliberate and comprehensive effort to improve academic achievement among their institute’s Black students. They saw all of these responsibilities as one. They engaged students in extra curricular projects that were neither for student credit nor enhanced their faculty career trajectories. Shaker makes a good case for considering the work of part-time, non-tenure-track faculty to be philanthropic given their low compensation, lack of benefits, typical absence of workspace, and job insecurity. We can understand why such work is often characterized as a labor of love. Denise Mott DeZolt points out that faculty in for-profit educational settings can also engage in philanthropic work through many of the same vehicles and opportunities found in nonprofit institutions.
The guide to help faculty navigate these issues is often blurred even with the most specific workload guidelines and policies. That is part of the main thesis of the book. Such guidelines and policies alone cannot accurately delineate what constitutes philanthropic effort and what does not. However, these questions are important to reconcile as we think about whether faculty effort can be described by Robert Payton’s definition of philanthropy: “voluntary action for the public good” (Payton & Moody, 2008, p. 27). It is in the “for the public good” part that we can realize the true value of faculty work.
This book adequately reminds us that there are forces within the environment of higher education and recent trends that may work against faculty engaging in philanthropic work. For example, Gary Rhoades points out that due to corporatization, reduced support from states, and the ever-present demand for increased productivity, “In the current political economy of U.S. higher education, there is little incentive for faculty to engage in voluntary action for the public good” (p. 109). Richard Turner reinforces this point by observing within this corporate framework that the “generosity and devotion that characterizes much faculty work” (p. 141) will be lost. Yet, many faculty members still engage in such activity. Adrianna Kezar and Sean Gehrke offer up, through their framing of “faculty grassroots leadership” as philanthropic activity, strategies that higher education administrators can employ to foster and nurture engaged faculty efforts that can contribute to the public good. In considering these points, we have the opportunity to realize that faculty work has a higher order and meaning that goes beyond a job or career to bettering the lives of others and society as a whole. We also can be intentional and strategic in exploring ways to maximize the philanthropic benefit from such work.
Much has been written and discussed on the values in, and motivations and expectations for, philanthropy (Clotfelter & Ehrlich, 1999; Payton & Moody, 2008; Reich, 2011). Dwight Burlingame’s chapter, “Faculty Behaving Well,” reinforces the understanding that engaging in philanthropy includes a mix of altruism and egoism, and that “Recognizing and reflecting on intent is key to leading a philanthropic academic life” (p. 136). Behaving well constitutes this mix, which is purposed for good ends, and involves the development of virtue and character.
Ann Austin shares her personal views as a faculty member and provides examples of how faculty choose to use their time in benefiting other people and society as a whole. They do this through the common values of “commitment to learning (one’s own and that of others), to advancing and sharing knowledge, and to making a contribution from one’s area of expertise that in some way makes the world better” (p. 47). Philanthropy therefore becomes the vehicle for expanding the perspective for and enhancing the value of such activity as well as the overall role of the faculty. However, Austin does not view such commitment as the voluntary component of her work, but instead as essential for “being a member of the academic profession” (p. 52).
This book forced me to critically reflect on my own work as an associate professor at a state university, coincidentally as I am also writing up my annual activity report. I believe it will provide a similar healthy exercise for other faculty in higher education. Many of my family gatherings and discussions about the work of the people around the dinner table often make me realize that faculty work is not often completely understood. I tried for years to get my parents, who never attended a college or university, to understand that the days I was not teaching classes were not my days off. Preparing for class, grading, advising students, serving on committees, research, service to the community, reviewing manuscripts for journals, preparing for a conference, and so on more than fills the time not spent teaching. I find that not until I have to submit my activity reports for my annual review do I fully realize all that I—and many others—do. This book succeeds in moving such reflection beyond the counting of hours for workload assessment to a broader, deeper, and richer understanding and valuing of why we engage in such activities.
Austin also reminds us that using the term philanthropy to describe our work runs the risk of having others perceiving such work as a gift or something we do to go beyond our official requirements. This risk is exacerbated by the way the term philanthropy is still largely misunderstood as a concept and has been arguably hijacked by those in institutional philanthropy to constitute a narrow view of the concept of giving, usually involving money. Instead, Austin proposes that philanthropy serves a more effective role as the lens through which we view our work and suggests, “contributing to the good of others is central to academic work” (p. 55). Turner adds, “Faculty work contributes to a larger mission and a common good that often reflect the highest aspirations of democratic societies” (p. 143).
A chapter or two from authors outside of the faculty role would have added an “outside,” possibly more objective perspective for this topic. However, one could argue that only those in this role can fully understand the philanthropic tenets of faculty work. The majority of the authors of this text are current or former faculty, while the remainders are doctoral students or those employed in other capacities within higher education. All, including myself, have at one point or by the time this is published have served in a faculty role. This can make it easy for those who have never served in a faculty role to discount this book as self-serving. However, I would argue in doing so they would miss the main points of this book which help us all realize the full potential and value of faculty work through a philanthropic lens.
This book should be required reading for faculty members, university presidents, provosts, deans and university human resource directors so they can have a more complete picture of the work that goes beyond credit hours, research dollars, and what is officially documented and accounted for in higher education administration. I also believe it would be productive reading for students and their families, state legislatures, and the general public who all may have been consuming a justifiably critical but incomplete picture of the higher education experience. Faculty and the Public Good provides a thorough and comprehensive treatment of faculty work through the context and lens of philanthropy. It helps us broaden the understanding of why many of us have chosen this career and why we feel it is important to engage philanthropically in our work for our students, ourselves, our institutions, our communities, and civil society.