So, is the path out of poverty a path right back into poverty? The likelihood of achieving the tenure-track dream is so small and wrought with emotional turmoil and anxiety, is it worth it to push minority students down this path? They may end up in a worse place – saddled with student loan debt, stuck in an adjuncting position that pays below the poverty level, and without the necessary skills to advance in a non-academic position – than they were before they began “pursuing their dreams.” Is higher education the path out of poverty, or the dream-crusher that mounts added liabilities and wastes precious time? How do you know when higher education is the problem, or the solution?

Everyone who has taught has been there. You have to tell a student that they failed a course, missed a deadline, or may not graduate on time. They may have written a terrible paper, bombed a test, or had an experiment fail. Maybe they did not pass their dissertation defense, and are being kicked out of a program. There are all kinds of horrible letdowns, unsuccessful attempts, and botched assignments that mean you have to deliver some bad news to the student. So, what’s the best way to do this?

Bad news may be defined as “any information which adversely and seriously affects an individual's view of his or her future.” Bad news is always, however, in the “eye of the beholder,” such that one cannot estimate the impact of the bad news until one has first determined the recipient's expectations or understanding. Your understanding of “the bigger picture” may be much different than the student’s perception. I often have students approach me about failing my lab quizzes. They are often upset, because they either haven’t failed anything before, or they feel the quizzes must somehow be unfair. I know my quizzes are hard. I know Biology is hard for a lot of students. But I also know that I have set up my course in a way that a few failed quizzes will not affect their final grades. I drop the lowest two quizzes, and quizzes are worth 10 points apiece, out of 1000 points for the whole course. The student who approaches me may not understand how failing one quiz affects their grades (short answer – it doesn’t).

Before you even approach the student, get your own emotions in check. Being angry at the student, yelling at them, dashing off an email in rage, or dismissing them invariably sets up a showdown, and a possible retaliation by the student. Many students, when hearing bad news, immediately begin thinking about how to go over your head, how the bad news is not their fault, or how the bad news isn’t fair. You might be sad yourself that the student failed your course. You may be disappointed in the amount of effort they put into the assignment. You are allowed to feel bad about giving bad news – but you must be professional when dealing with the student.

I believe that students want, and deserve to hear, the truth. Trying to lessen the bad news by diminishing its meaning isn’t fair to the student. We should tell them the truth, be sensitive to how the disclosure is done, and in supporting the students, assist them in decision making. Don’t lie to them, and don’t be a jerk. Even though it may not feel this way, I believe most students are really good people, who are just trying to get through something major. They don’t know how to do this “college thing.” They may lie. They may cheat. That doesn’t make them evil people – it makes them students. We see this every day; they may only be in this situation once in their lives. And they may make bad decisions that lead to their troubles. Just as telling a lung cancer patient who smoked 20 years that they are dying is hard, and smoking may have led to the cancer, a doctor does not drop the death bomb on them, and walk away (or shouldn’t). Don’t drop bombs on your students without helping them make the next, proper, steps.

Because if you drop bombs on students without helping them to make the next steps, where will they go to find comfort? They may approach their peers. While peers may provide comfort, they may not provide the best advice. The blind, leading the blind. Peers may suggest poor strategies such as cheating, drinking, blowing off steam, quitting, or hacking. None of those will lead to a productive resolution. They may approach family members, who may have no clue how to support them, except get angry for them. They may go to bashing you on ratemyprofessor.com or other internet sites. This may set them up to slander you, or hurt their college careers (or yours!).

Step 1 – Setting up the interview

Bad news should really be given in person. And, in private. One of the challenges that professors face is giving bad news in privacy, but not in isolation. I would NEVER suggest closing yourself in an office or lab with any student. If a student becomes emotional, it can be expected. Students can also become violent, or make claims about the event that aren’t true. I would always suggest conference rooms or the main office, in a room that is not isolated. Make a connection with the student, maintaining eye contact, but not in a position of power. Standing over a student, or making them stand, puts you on unequal footing with the student. With both parties sitting, there is an opportunity and time for for a dialogue to take place.

Step 2 – Assess the student’s perception

Before hopping right to the bad news, assess the student’s overall situation first. This may involve gathering information about their grades in your class, their grades in general, their program requirements, or the school regulations. Asking “what do you understand about your grades so far?” or “what is your understanding of how you are doing in the program?” Be ready for “the sugarcoat,” however. Students often do not realize how bad they are doing. Knowing “the bigger picture” helps you to correct a student’s misperceptions or misinformation along the way. “Student denial” is very real – wishful thinking (about passing), omission of essential details, or unrealistic expectations of passing just because they paid for the course.

I was discussing a student’s potential failure of my course, because of his lack of understanding of English. He told me he was doing well in all his other courses, and mine was the only one he was failing. After further investigation, it turns out he had failed multiple courses, and had been warned by his academic advisor multiple times about lagging behind in his program. As frustrating as it was for me, I had to let him fail. I gave him every opportunity to pass – but not all students pass. It was heartbreaking for me, because I tried so hard to help him. I just could not take it personally, and I couldn’t walk him through school in general. I had 39 other students to attend to in class, and I just could not do the work for him. It’s hard when nice students don’t pass.

Step 3 – Obtaining the student’s invitation

While a majority of students want to discuss how to move on, after bad news, some may not be ready to talk about it. Students sometimes shun information in an attempt to psychologically cope with the information. While I believe the bad information must be delivered appropriately, and in a timely fashion, discussing next steps may need to happen at a further point. It may involve two meetings. But the second meeting must be predicated by your desire to help – if the semester or program is about to end, you need to make this clear to the student. They may have to move on in a timely fashion.

I read an email with the dialogue about a student’s doctoral process where the advisor essentially ATTACKED the student. He stuck a knife in her, and then twisted it. The email was one long rant from an obviously frustrated advisor, and it was cruel. It appeared to be an angry professor hiding behind his keyboard, instead of having a heart to heart with his doc student. It warned the student that if the student didn’t do exactly as he detailed (and then he didn’t detail) the student would never graduate. It was awful

Step 4 – Giving knowledge and information to the student

Warning the student that bad news is coming may lessen the shock and facilitate information processing. Examples of phrases that can be used include, “Unfortunately I've got some bad news to tell you” or “I'm sorry to tell you that…”. As educators, we may skip this step because we feel that student “have done this to themselves.” “I’m sorry to tell you that I detected plagiarism in your term paper.” may seem awkward. But it’s a necessary step. You should also use language that students understand. “Plagiarize” may not be fully understood by the student. “I detected that your term paper was copied and pasted from so-and-so site.” gives a clearer picture of the problem. I’d also avoid unnecessary bluntness. “You plagiarized your term paper, and as a result, I gave you a zero and you fail.” is likely to leave the student angry, and blaming the messenger (you) rather than the action (the plagiarism). We try so hard in education to be succinct in our writing, but this is one case where being brief can be misinterpreted as being terse.

Step 5 – Address the student’s emotions with empathetic responses.

Responding to the student’s emotions is one of the most difficult challenges of breaking bad news. Students’ emotional reactions may vary from silence to disbelief, crying, denial, or anger. I had a student, who upon failing a major test, was sitting in my office, crying his eyes out. He explained that he COULDN’T take this failing grade, or he’d be kicked out of his teacher program. I suddenly saw a flash of anger in his eyes. He accused me of being unclear, not giving him a study guide, and demanded a retake. I pointed him to the syllabus, where the expectations for the class were clearly spelled out. This is another reason to have SUCH a clear, and detailed, syllabus. As new teachers, or teaching assistants, we may not have thought through all the scenarios, and what the consequences can be. Look for good direction about compiling syllabi online, like here, or this superb guide. Having clear policies about how cheating, failing, or retakes are handled is crucial. And students can argue like little lawyers. Talk to members of your department about things they feel are vital at your school.

Step 6 – Strategy and Summary

Students who are provided with a clear plan for the future are less likely to be anxious or uncertain. While they may be upset or angry about bad news, it’s crucial to provide them with their options. Sometimes, the options may not be ones they like – retaking a course, delaying graduation, having a note in their school record – but none of these things mean life is over. It may feel like it is for the student – they may have to face a different career choice, an angry parent, or admitting wrongdoing. You can always steer students towards your campus counseling services, or advise them to meet with their academic advisor. If you are worried about the student harming themselves, you can report to the crisis team on campus.

Many students see an appeal to the department chair as an option. They want to argue, and for you to be wrong. Don’t be surprised – and don’t take it personally. I think it’s important to follow school rules for all students, and give all students an equal opportunity to give your course or program their best effort. When bad news means they have to chart a new course in life, that’s ok. I can’t tell you how many times I have looked honestly at what I was doing, and made a new, improved plan. By being kind, offering options, and understanding the person standing before you, delivering bad news and respecting the needs of the student become easier.

 

This post is inspired by a sermon from Joel Osteen called “Stay in the Game.” You might not be in grad school, but I think this applies to life as a game, as well. It doesn’t take a lot of faith to stay in the game when things are going our way. Many times along the way, I considered grad school (and life) as a game. Completing my dissertation, and getting a PhD was a win/lose type of situation, or at least it was for me. If I had given up, I would have lost at the game. Looking back, if I had effortlessly completed the classes and the dissertation, with no bumps, bruises, or challenges, that prize, being Dr. Hollingsworth, wouldn’t mean as much to me. If the grad school game were easy, it certainly would not have taught me all the lessons it did.

It’s easy to lose our passion when we’re hurt – our advisor is critical, a colleague does us wrong, an experiment doesn’t work, our families aren’t understanding of the pressure, the program changes to become harder, the environment on campus becomes negative or nasty, or we flat out feel the pain of stress pressing down on our lives. It’s easy to begin the negative talk. “This program is stacked against women. This research doesn’t mean anything. My experiments don’t matter. My advisor is a jerk. My committee has it out for me. They don’t like me. I chose a bad advisor. This program is doomed.” This negative talk is making excuses for why we MIGHT fail, and prepares us to shield our emotions, in case we do fail.  Shake off the pity, and get back in the game.

Some students make excuses to sit on the sidelines. You can still play, even in pain. “I’d rather be in the game in pain, than sitting on the sidelines watching.”

This is where the game became personal for me. Through my entire grad school career, I was having massive surgeries. Any one of them would have been reason to give up. In February of 2008, both of my retinas blew out. I had over 20 eye surgeries, the last two of which they removed my eyeballs, and scraped them out, and filled them with fake fluid. One of these surgeries was right before I was supposed to take a final. The other kept me from starting class for three weeks. Throughout all of these surgeries, I never once thought of quitting my program. I always was thinking “How can I get back to school, so I can get on with my life?” There were days I couldn’t see well, and my father drove me to work. There were other days where I laid face down on the floor in my office, waiting for my pain meds to kick in, so I could get back to writing. The last of my eye surgeries was January 11th, 2011.

Almost a year went by of me feeling horrible physically. I didn’t move a lot, because I was scared to hurt my eyeballs. I was depressed, I felt awful, but I stayed in grad school. It was the one thing that gave me solace from the pain. I loved the group of women I worked with, and was in class with, and they provided me with so much support. Reading and writing were two things I could do, despite my physical maladies. I bandaged up what was hurting, and I stayed in the game. I said, “I may be hurting, but I’m still here. I may have been knocked down, over and over, but I’m in this to win this, and I won’t quit.” In December of 2011, I had a massive abdominal surgery that left me in chronic pain, pain that persists until today. I’ve had surgery many times since that first one, for kidney stones, for a bowel obstruction, and for the wound that refused to heal.

At this point, it would have been easy to become bitter. I could have blamed my failures on my pain, my body, or other people. I didn’t. I let people know when I was hurting so bad I couldn’t complete assignments, but I never asked to not do the assignment. Sometimes I needed a week extension, sometimes I was past the due date, but I made up my mind to never quit. I saw some people in my program that were so sour, who wanted other people to be unhappy with them. They tried to bring others down. The ladies I surrounded myself with, however, were my rock. I could have hung out with the complainers and joined their pity party. There were definitely always people around me who were quick to grumble, whine, and nit-pick, to say why they couldn’t do this, to make excuses. I will admit – I did let these negative folks into my head a few times. And after I would talk to them, I would feel like I was run over by a bus. I had to actively choose to smile at these people, offer them a word of encouragement, and then go back to my group of girls who cheered me on. If you surround yourself with criticism, self-pity, bitterness, anger, hatred, and discontentment, don’t be surprised when that weighs down your soul. Get back in the game, and find your cheerleaders.

The best thing to do when you hurt is to go help someone else in need. You sow the seed to change your own situation. This is why I love to teach. No one would have faulted me if I had given up. I was injured, but I never left the game. When times were tough, and nothing was going my way, I was still good to the people around me. Even when my eyeballs or my guts hurt, I still treated my students well. And they knew that I loved what I was doing, and many approached me and told me that they were inspired by the fact I never gave up. This world has a great reward for people who are faithful in the tough times. My graduate school experience resulted in me winning the game, because I never gave up, even when it was rough. Because I have paid it forward, by helping students be successful, by cheering on my group of girls, and by giving my work my all, I won that game. Now, I’m on to the next game, The Superbowl that is my life.

I refuse to just exist. I will live. If I had quit, what would I have done? Become disabled? Planned my funeral? That wasn’t even an option. Even when I couldn’t do all the things I wanted to do on my own, I could still offer friendship, hard work, and dedication to the people around me. When you put yourself in the right position, when you coordinate your game plan so that you are in success’s path, that’s when the universe pays you back. You position yourself for good karma. I never stopped searching out new friends, looking for new opportunities, and searching for ways to get past my pain. Grad school was never meant to end a person, even though it may feel that way. It’s meant to be a beginning. An awakening of your spirit, a challenge to your mind, the seed of your dreams. It allows you to have double what you had before.


Nobody knows the battles you fight when you take on this program. When you defy the odds, when you play despite the pain, the most powerful force in the universe breathes in your direction. You may not be able to do what you used to, but the wind fills your sails, and you stay in the game. Just being here, that took an act of faith. Part of the game of academia is its critical nature. It will crush you, if you let it. It’s easy when people are criticizing your ideas to feel as if you are the one who has it all wrong. Eyes on the prize, stay in the game. Keep the game ball moving forward, run with your ideas, allow them to blossom, and take on that fight. No one knows your battles, but everyone knows that you can’t win the battle if you don’t show up in the first place.


My biggest and best quality is the fight I have in me. I never give up. I keep on going, because I love what I do. I allow others to achieve their dreams, and I can’t do that from my bed. I need to be in that game. I need to be a positive role model for my son. I needed to fight.


People can’t look at me and know that I’m in pain. I don’t look sick, even though I’ve been diabetic 30 years and have had all those surgeries. I’ve had people tell me “You don’t look sick. I had no idea,” or “You seem so happy! I had no idea you were in pain!” It’s one thing to go through a struggle that everyone knows about, or can view you going through. But my struggle is all inside me. I struggle with my feelings, with my body, and with figuring out who I am. Despite my pain, I persist. I go to work, I’m kind, friendly and compassionate, I help everyone I can, and I never give up. There is no way I could sit back, nursing my wounds. I’m hurting, but I’m still here. I can still smile, and be kind, even if no one knows what kind of horrible pain my body is in. If I can do this, I have no doubt that other women can get through the game of grad school, too. Play on, despite the pain.