On University Committees

Universities have a curious governmental structure. For the most part, they are top-down organizations. Faculty members stick to teaching and research. They are not involved in any substantive decision making. Yet, for some reason, there is a wish to have it appear that they are “deciders.” So ceremonial bodies are created, councils of faculty, without any power. And committees are formed to advise. But the advice is almost always ignored.

These councils and committees do have a somewhat obtuse purpose. Those that aspire to become part of university leadership almost always must participate in them. It’s kind of like a training bra. While these organized groups have no real reason for being, it’s a modern right of passage to participate on councils and committees. You get to know the powers that be. If they take a shine to you, you have a chance of entering the halls of university administration.

Most faculty members have no wish to become university administrators. Why would they? You push around paper and money. You go to endless meetings. There is no intellectual life. You’re surrounded by a lot of dead-enders in low-level administrative posts who gave up research and teaching because they weren’t particularly good at it. It sounds like a dreadful job to most faculty members.

So since they don’t serve any real purpose and the only reason you’d want to participate is as a stepping-stone to an administrative career, it’s not surprising that many faculty members don’t want to participate on committees and councils. It’s a waste of time. They have better things to do. So they say no.

The problem with this is that university leaders want to maintain appearances of faculty involvement. So they lament the lack of participation on the part of professors. They call them “irresponsible.” They say they are “abrogating their responsibility.” Nope. They’re just being smart.

Things can get farcical. At the University of Notre Dame, the faculty tried to simply close up shop of their academic council several years ago. Since it had no purpose, why bother? Last I heard, they were told they could not do so. There was something in the charter of the school that demanded a council of faculty be present. No, it didn’t have any power. Yes, it was a waste of time. But it had to be there.

At Duke, a former arts and sciences academic council was so meaningless and anemic that it was simply allowed to die. A new one was created a few years later for unknown reasons.

For those of you who think I’m being much too glib, I will ramble more than a bit about my personal experiences in “faculty governance.” I served on two university committees. I briefly served on the university academic council. The time spent was not only a waste, but was also a mild form of psychological torture.

The first committee I served on was involved in approving changes in curriculum. I was a fairly new professor. I was naïve. I didn’t know we didn’t have any real purpose. So I took the job seriously. That was a mistake.

One of our first tasks was to look at the abuse of independent studies classes at Duke. It was a very strange experience. First off, we weren’t allowed to look at any data. I’m a scientist. How can I make any decisions without any data? How do I know independent study classes are being abused if I can’t see the numbers? We were told the numbers were confidential. I wanted specifics. When pressed, we were told that one faculty member was teaching 30 independent study students in a semester. So was this just an abuse of one? No there were others. What others? We weren’t allowed privy to such information.

OK. We were being told that independent studies classes were being abused. The skinny that no one would say, but hinted at, is that most of those abuses take place with athletes. Basically, there are some unethical professors out there who are ardent supporters of athletics.

Many athletes do not have the time or academic talent to compete with other students. If they were to take a full load of regular classes, they would do poorly. So they find a “jock sniffer” faculty member to take an independent study class or two with. They do little work. They get a decent grade. They remain academically eligible.

This process is not unique to Duke. The New York Times had an expose about a jock sniffing faculty member at Auburn last year. It’s undoubtedly a common problem across the country.

Back to the issue at hand. Independent study classes were being abused. What should be done? Our committee came up with a recommendation to limit independent study classes to one per semester. That wouldn’t eliminate abuse but would be an improvement. The result of our recommendation was a big nothing. No changes were made. Why we were even asked to look at this problem was a mystery to me.

Our committee marched on. We were asked to examine a new major. We thought the idea for the major was a good one. But the actual proposal was to put it mildly a piece of junk. It was poorly thought out. The document made no sense. We bounced it. This was the one bit of power we had and we decided to use it.

The next meeting the proposal came back unchanged. We were told that the powers that be didn’t agree with our decision. In particular, they needed this major ASAP. They were trying to hire some hot-shot senior faculty member and wanted to have this major in the books. The committee chair gave us a knowing look. He asked, “What do you want to do, boys?” We looked at each other. We approved the major warts and all.

At the end of the year I was called by an associate dean and complimented on the great job I did on the committee. They would like me to serve again next year. My answer was blunt. The committee was a waste of time. The associate dean was affronted and protested that it wasn’t a waste of time. I said we had a difference of opinion and told her thanks, but no thanks. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

But I did get fooled twice. After saying no to committee appointments for many years, I was asked to sub on a committee to look at a major overhaul of Duke’s undergraduate curriculum. The committee was composed of science faculty. We looked at the overhaul. It was a mess. In particular, students who were science majors were going to have a very hard time fulfilling the requirements of the new curriculum and still take the science courses they needed for graduate school.

The creator of the new curriculum, hearing of our bleak news, came to a committee meeting. He admitted that the curriculum overhaul was not well thought out. But he said that whatever mistakes there were would be ironed out eventually. In other words, we were being asked to endorse something that we all knew was lousy.

Our committee closed up shop. Or rather, we were told that we were done. Don't like what a committee is doing? Shut it down. The chair of the committee, a former dean, sent a summary email to the powers that be that the committee “enthusiastically endorsed” the curriculum overhaul. I looked at the email. I sent an email back to the chair asking him if he had attended the same meetings I did because no endorsement was made of any kind. He said that that was how he remembered it. He had a strange memory.

The end result was that the new curriculum was approved and was a disaster. As predicted, science students had a very difficult time with it. Summer school enrollments spiked mostly because science students needed extra classes beyond the normal 34 to graduate. So much for the value of faculty governance. The creator of the curriculum was "promoted" into a position in administration; yes, universities do reward incompetence.

I never served on another university committee. By some cruel twist of fate, however, I was elected to the Academic Council.* I attended one meeting. We were asked to look at a new university plan for expansion and design of the campus. The plan was a major change. Essentially, we were being asked to rubber stamp a document without any input from the faculty, the very people who would have to live with this redesign year after year. I asked a couple of questions. A dean and an executive vice-president shot me angry looks. The plan was approved. I know when I’m being told to twiddle my thumbs.

I resigned from the Academic Council two weeks later.

Are faculty members “abrogating their responsibility” by not serving on committees and councils? You’ve got to be kidding. It’s more than a waste of time. It’s demeaning. It's the academic equivalent of being a cabana boy. Why would anyone volunteer to do such a thing?

*My election was my own damn fault. Every year, you're asked if you want your name taken off the ballot for Academic Council; I'd send back some lame excuse year after year why I couldn't serve. But the year I was elected, I was out of town a lot dealing with closing down the family business after my mom died and I missed the deadline to get my name withdrawn. It was the equivalent of not stepping backward when they say, "volunteers take one step forward."