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Philosophy for Practice Statement

Daniel L. Nash

SDAD 5300

Dr. Paige Gardner

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Philosophy for Practice Statement

Balance, trust, growth. These are words that guide my practice, but they don’t describe

me. Better labels would be high-strung, or wound-up. I’m competitive. Once, when I still worked

for newspapers, I waded fully clothed into a lake to take a better picture than a rival

photographer in a rowboat. Despite my intensity, I had a genuine desire to help others. New

reporters could always count on me to onboard them, and I often volunteered my time to visiting

job shadows. Jumping from news to student affairs as a student newspaper adviser made perfect

sense to me. More than 57% of new professionals enter the field out of a desire to nurture the

development of students (Taub & McEwen, 2006, p. 211). I’d had few role models going into

journalism; even my student newspaper adviser primarily worked indirectly through the editor-

in-chief. This hands-off approach is valid, and sometimes advantageous if an adviser’s goal is to

help students develop independence (Manning et al., 2017, p. 277).

My approach was hands-on. The newspaper had gone without an adviser for three years

and had fallen well below standards of quality for even student news. The solution, as I saw it,

was a deluge of handouts, training sessions, and extensive written feedback. Students who were

new to the editorial staff responded positively, but returning students read my approach as

disapproval of their work. I took the pushback personally. I spent late nights alone searching for

the approach that would make everything perfect. I had no trust, and no life balance. Without

those, my growth mindset died on the vine. Most new professionals leave student affairs within

five years for similar reasons (Marshall et al., 2016). I was on track to burn out in less than one.

Two life events prompted me to change. First, my wife became sick. The medications

that had helped her treat depression for a decade stopped working. Her psychiatrist

recommended electroconvulsive therapy. It’s a gold standard treatment, but patients often require
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around-the-clock assistance while they experience intense memory loss that can last for months.

I had three weeks of paid time off. When I’d used those up, my wife moved in with her parents,

who were retired and able to provide the care I could not. Suddenly, I needed to save enough

energy each week for the drive north to see my wife on weekends. Balance became mandatory. I

eased off my intensive approach to advising. Meanwhile, my capacity for empathy grew. I

learned to listen non-judgmentally to students’ personal struggles. I stopped processing

terminations when my editors wanted to fire underperforming writers and told them to work on

improvement plans first. The idea of second chances had become, in my mind, a matter of

survival. Attrition dropped to zero; it turned out everyone improved when given the chance.

The second thing that happened, happened to all of us. The newspaper’s service

adjustments to the coronavirus pandemic were easy—they already had a website, and it was easy

enough to add an email newsletter. Changes to advising were harder. Spontaneous check-ins

were impossible without a common office, but scheduling hourlong one-on-one meetings with all

25 of my employees would be untenable. Instead, I copied my adviser’s example and prioritized

meetings with student editors and managers. Without the temptation of looking over my students’

shoulders, I had to adopt a Socratic approach and trust they had their own to-do lists handled.

Our profession often talks about prioritizing student learning (Blimling & Whitt, 1998). Over

those 18 months, everything became a learning opportunity; we were all learning how to live and

work in mutual isolation. Returning to in-person work has, in some ways, presented more

growing pains than going online. None of us can go home again, but we’ve been ordered to do it

all the same. At times, the obstacles have tempted me to fall back into old habits. When that

happens, I try to remember the guiding words—balance, trust, growth—and hope that, one day,

they will describe me.

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References

Blimling, G.S., & Whitt, E.J. (1998, March 1). Principles of good practice for student affairs.

About campus 3(1), pp. 10-15. https://doi.org/10.1177%2F108648229800300104

Manning, K., Kinzie, J., & Schuh, J.H. (2017). Framing student affairs practice. In Schuh, J.H.,

Jones, S.R., & Torres, V. (Eds.), Student services: A handbook for the profession (pp.

270-287). Jossey-Bass.

Marshall, S.M., Gardner, M.M., Hughes, C., & Lowery, U. (2016). Attrition from student affairs:

Perspectives from those who exited the profession. Journal of student affairs research

and practice, 53(2), pp. 146-159.

Taub, D.J., & McEwen, M.K. (2006). Decision to enter the profession of student affairs. Journal

of college student development, 47(2), pp. 206-216.

https://doi.org/10.1353/csd.2006.0027