Elite by Necessity
By design, higher education is meant to be restrictive. While that is true globally, the specific examples referenced here stem from the US. Despite sixteen years of political and educational rhetoric under George W. Bush (No Child Left Behind) and Barack Obama (Race to the Top) that essentially argued everyone should be afforded a university degree, society recognizes that not all individuals are academically qualified or even desire to pursue tertiary education. For that very reason, universities have admissions criteria. Public US high schools do not have the ability to deny students entry based on their prior academic performance. Universities do. The system is intentionally exclusive. That exclusivity is both important and necessary. In the same way that I should have the right to determine who I admit to my home, universities should have the right to determine who they admit. Enrolling at one of these elite institutions is a function of merit (i.e., admission) and resources (i.e., ability to pay). Thus, the elite nature of these institutions functions across multiple levels such that individuals who qualify by merit may lack the resources to attend. Theoretically, individuals who have the resources may not be admitted due to lack of merit, but let us reserve the truth of that scenario for another time. The lack of qualification to garner admission to a university does not mean one is worth less than someone who has that qualification—yet this view permeates much of modern society and its rhetoric. That view is an elitist one. Indeed, the recent increased interest in trades is in large part pushback against an elitist system.

To be clear, the elite nature of higher education does not inherently produce elitism. By definition, the term elite categorizes people on the basis of some sort of status or skill. For example, elite athletes possess abilities others do not. Elitism may derive from such categorization, but is functionally about attitude—the belief that one is better (or more deserved) in some way because they fit into a particular category. Thus, while higher education is an elite enterprise and international education is the elite of an elite enterprise, it does not follow that they must necessarily be elitist. Yet, far too frequently they are.

Elitist by Intent
What is troubling to many global education outsiders is that often those preaching access and equity are simultaneously contributing to elitism within the same system. To elucidate this point, let me offer three examples that might resonate with you if you have spent any time in global education. First, in hiring for leadership, we often prefer individuals who earned a PhD at elite institutions over people who earned a master’s degree at a regional public. Degree matters. Type matters. The institution where one earned the degree matters. These often matter more than an individual’s work experience, skills, or leadership abilities. Such an approach to hiring speaks more to elitism than merit, yet the merit framework dominates our discussion (often disguised as fit). How frequently do our rejection letters use the phrase “whose qualifications more closely align with the role” as cover for elitism? A colleague once shared with me that their institution rejected them for promotion because they had an EdD rather than a PhD. What surprised the colleague was not the rejection, but that the chair of the search committee would not look them in the eye after the rejection. Why? Rejection of an applicant with an EdD in favor of one with a PhD for an administrative global education role that does not require faculty status is elitist and the search chair knew it. Elitism produced shame, but not enough shame to alter the search chair’s behavior.

Second, despite numerous publications and discussions as to the challenges associated with them, rankings remain the primary metric for comparing institutions. The result of most ranking systems continues to be that the institutions with the largest resources receive the best rankings. While numerous categories tend to define the metrics that produce the rankings, underlying most of them is money. This creates a system that perpetuates divides on the basis of money. The goal is to earn degrees from better ranked institutions. The goal is to work at higher ranked institutions. The goal is to develop partnerships with high ranked institutions. Why? Money. Money opens doors to opportunities; money makes the work easier. Prestige. Prestige lets us make claims about who we are based on our association with others, which further feeds our elitism. I am well-acquainted with an institution of higher education that only wants student exchange partnerships with international partners ranked in the top 100 of one of the global higher education ranking organizations. The institution with that policy did not even make the list. Why would an institution adopt such an approach? Status. Prestige. Elitism. Certainly not to serve student interests or needs.

Finally, those working at institutions of higher education are purists as opposed to those working for organizations engaged in other aspects of global education. Work for a third-party provider. Lesser than. Work for a professional association. Lesser than. Work for a tech company. Lesser than. Work for anything less than the almighty university, and you work for the “dark side.” The dark side language appears far too frequently in our discourse. Two individuals can be doing the exact same work, but if one is doing it for a university and the other is doing it for a provider, the one working for the university has purer motives. Beyond the blatant elitism represented in such views, what troubles me most about this one is the directness with which people name it. When I transitioned from a university role to create Global Puzzles, LLC, I maintained most of my involvement with professional organizations. However, there was one organization that removed me from involvement because I was no longer working for an institution of higher education. My skills did not change. My commitment to the work did not change. My capacity for engagement with the organization was actually greater, but none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was position. That is elitist. The leader that severed my involvement did later offer me a different opportunity to engage…so long as I financially sponsored an event. Money was welcome, but skills were not. In conversations with others who made similar transitions, I am well-aware that I am not alone in this experience. Even more disturbing for the field of international education is that many of us transition between universities and other organizations over the course of our career. The view that someone is less than simply because of where they work is challenging given these transitions as someone working for a provider today may be leading a university unit tomorrow.

The Honest Position
While I am fully aware that we will not upend the elitism permeating international education overnight, it is something with which every global educator should grapple. It is a natural byproduct of a field that lacks collective identity and engages in performative intellectualism. If we preach access and equity (and most of us do), we need to make sure our commitment extends beyond our rhetoric. Access and equity start within ourselves and our field. It starts with authenticity, by admitting that we have an elitism problem and with critical self-reflection that examines the ways in which we create and maintain elitism in global education. We must admit that higher education is an elite enterprise, and that global education is the elite of the elite. This requires us to acknowledge that elite organizations have a greater tendency toward elitism. We must be on our guard to ensure that while elite, we do not become elitist. This requires surrounding ourselves with colleagues and students who are willing to question both our actions and our motives. We must be transparent in the work that we do because authenticity is the cure for hypocrisy. This requires admitting that in some cases we are part of the problem rather than its solution. Only through admitting our elitism can we ever hope to change it.

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Before I delve further into this topic, it is important to offer some foundational information for clarity. A basic internet search of the term intellectual reveals some common interpretations or meanings: involving or relating to the mind; deep thinking; reasoning; cognitive skills; someone who loves learning; one who spends time reading, researching, and discussing cultural or social issues. Anti-intellectualism is opposition to these skills, abilities, and ways of structuring one’s time. While much of the contemporary discourse surrounding anti-intellectualism focuses on political movements, this post adopts the more generic view outlined above.

Higher Education’s Issue
While higher education does not ascribe to the tenets of anti-intellectual movements in greater society, it does indeed struggle with the concept of where intellect fits within its realm. This might seem surprising as intellect is the theoretical basis of higher education. While I agree with that idea, I disagree with the notion that modern higher education functions to promote intellectualism. Consider many of the major criteria used to evaluate and rank institutions of higher education: class size; faculty to student ratio; endowment size; graduate earnings and social mobility; tuition and fees; recruitment, retention, and graduation rates; campus facilities; grant funding secured; and even research productivity—typically defined by output rather than quality. None of these directly relate to intellect. Yet, they are the accepted metrics for evaluating what purports to be intellectual enterprise. Indeed, most institutions participate in some form of rankings which is a form of tacit agreement with the criteria.

Higher education’s current focus could be summed up in the word outcomes. Assessment and evaluation focus on outcomes. Accreditation often focuses on outcomes. Institutions define learning via outcomes. They frame recruitment, retention, and graduation rates as outcomes. The framework for evaluating faculty, staff, and students focuses on outcomes. In over twenty years of campus employment, not once did I hear anyone frame the discussion of what higher education does as intellectual. What are the intellectual outcomes that should define higher education? How should we measure those intellectual outcomes? These questions characterize an intellectual approach to the work.

The result of higher education’s current outcomes focus is a lack of interest in intellect. This should not be too surprising as higher education is a reflection of the society and time in which it operates. It demonstrates a sector that is anti-intellectual. Despite the fact that many of those employed in higher education, especially faculty (and I say this as a former faculty member), argue that higher education is a public good, what the evidence I highlight here demonstrates is that the sector has a strong anti-intellectual bent. While arguing higher education is a public good works within the sector itself, the argument is disconnected from the operational aspects of higher education as well as greater society. It speaks to a lack of awareness and authenticity as to how intellect functions in higher education. It speaks to a need for critical reflection as to how anyone working in higher education views intellect.

Global Education’s Issue
If those of us working in global education pause to reflect on our current work, many of us must admit that our approach to intellect mirrors that of higher education. We are a field focused on doing rather than on thinking or being. Consider this. When is the last time that someone at your institution said no to a program for any reason other than budget or capacity? As a field, we haven’t met a program we don’t like. And that is a real problem. We view programming as our priority. Not deep thinking. Not learning. Not discussing cultural or social issues. Programming.

Disagree with this statement? Okay, let us explore the evidence. Pull your calendar for the past month. What takes up your time? That is your focus. Is it deep thinking? Is it learning? Is it discussing social or cultural issues? While for a few readers it might be, if we are honest, most of us have to admit that we devote very little (if any) of our time to intellectual pursuits. We devote our time to administrative tasks. We spend our time building programs. We count the number of students abroad, international students, or partnerships to tout as our success. While intellect should be central to these processes, I am unconvinced it is based on our current practice.

It is relatively easy to see our lack of focus on intellectualism in both our discourse and our work. Much of our language and discourse centered on contemporary concerns demonstrates a lack of nuance. For example, how frequently do we hear people state that every student should study abroad? How often do we frame visa denials as the fault of the government? How often do we talk about equitable partnerships without pushing back against our institutional leaders who require legal clauses and frameworks that inherently privilege the Global North? My point is this: an authentic discussion or approach to each of these concerns (as well as many others) requires nuance. It requires intellect. Yet our discourse rarely reflects intellect. It tends to reflect the outcomes orientation that dominates higher education. It seems that we global educators are falling for the anti-intellectualism trap in the same way that so many others do.

The Path Forward
What I find intriguing about this challenge is that it is largely an internal challenge. It is a challenge of our own making, which means it is a challenge we can address. Further, it is a challenge for which there are relatively simple solutions. We have the capacity to change this. We have the ability to reclaim intellect as the guiding force for the work that we do. We have the potential to lead a shift in the ways in which those engaged in global and higher education embrace intellect. We can model a change from anti-intellectualism to intellectualism. We can lead.

How? First, go back to your calendar. You control much of it. Where can you find space and time to schedule an hour a week to engage in intellectual pursuits? Uninterrupted time. Protected time—this includes protecting it from yourself and the temptation to schedule something in that time. Second, consider staff and student meetings. What would it look like to spend fifteen percent of each meeting discussing social and cultural issues impacting your work or students’ lives? Third, consider the structure and function of the unit. Where can you build in space and time for people in the unit to collectively engage in intellectual practices (e.g., learn together, think together, or discuss together)? Finally, how can we adapt outcomes to better include intellect? Global higher education is never going to fully eliminate quantitative metrics (and I do not believe it should). However, intellectual metrics should be the ones we value. They should be the ones we push internal and external stakeholders to consider the most important outcomes.

All of these suggested changes are relatively small and relatively low-stakes. Yet, they hold the potential for serious impact. Do I think they will counter the societal anti-intellectualism movements pervading modern democratic states? Probably not. Do I think they will make meaningful change for those who embrace them? Absolutely! Beyond changing us, I think focusing on intellectual pursuits produces better outcomes. It changes those who interact with global educators. It yields more productive discourse in the field. It means that we practice the tenets associated with global competence rather than performatively stating them. Focusing on intellectual pursuits is doable and it produces meaningful results. Over the past few months, I increased my reading time—a focus on intellect. Over the past two years, I increased the time I spend in deep thought. This post is one part of the result. I am also having better conversations with colleagues and peers, and I have better insights in the work I do. Intellectualism is very much worth our time.

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The Response
Take a moment to pause and answer this question: What do you do? For many of us, the answer might be something like: I am an education abroad advisor, or I work in international student and scholar support services, or I oversee virtual exchange programs, or I am the senior international officer, or I recruit students. Those are fine responses as they clearly indicate the locus of the work. However, I wonder if they do the field a disservice in that the basis for these responses is largely context. These answers provide the context in which we work rather than big-picture description of what we do. They do not provide a clear understanding of what the field is or what it hopes to accomplish. I will note that my critique of how the field is responding to this question is also a self-critique. If you examine my career, you can ascertain that I have done this work as a faculty member (context), as an institution’s senior international officer (context), as a trainer of professionals (context), and as a colleague and advisor (context). When I talked about these roles, I rarely led with anything other than “I’m a faculty member,” or “I’m an SIO.” It is a trap that catches most of us in the way we think and talk about ourselves.

If your current thought is that this is just parsing language, you are correct…to an extent. As international educators, we believe that language matters. We believe in learning correct pronunciations of international students’ and colleagues’ names. We understand the importance of accurate translations. We argue that individuals have the right to determine how they label themselves as opposed to that being forced upon them. As a field, language is one of our inherent concerns. Yet, when we talk about our own work, we often use context to describe it rather than providing others (especially those outside of our field) with a clear sense of what it is that we truly do. If we believe language matters, then we should be careful and deliberate in how we use it. Otherwise, we fail to learn the lessons we try to teach others.

The Reason
Before we can address this challenge, we need to consider why this is the case. If we hope to do something about what we are currently doing, we need to understand why we are currently doing it. I think there are multiple rationales for our current behavior. First, I think we rely on context because we do not have consistent agreement as to who we are or what the boundaries of the field are. Likely, you have sat in the audience at conferences and listened to individuals argue that we are the central component of the university because we touch everything else. We argue we are the people who help make the world a better place. While we think of ourselves as integral or essential for success of individuals and the institution, the language we use is contextual. If our view of ourselves is contextual, how essential can we be? Others recognize this as well. Indeed, hubris may be part of our issue. We claim we make the world a better place. So do our medical colleagues, and those working in teacher education, and those teaching law. They do not buy the argument because we are unclear as to what we are selling — and what we are selling is us, our field.

Second, outside of our field, very few people know what it is that we actually do. Many of the overarching terms that we could use to describe who we are and/or what we do require explanation. What is international education? What is a global educator? While the terms have some meaning, they are open to interpretation, and each person has a different one. Explanation requires more time and energy, more work. Our contexts are easier to understand and explain as most people quickly understand our contexts with minimal additional explanation. Using context to describe who we are and what we do makes sense if we want or need verbal shortcuts. However, I wonder if that is truly our goal. Might it be that we are just taking the shortest path even if it is a worse path, which in turn might suggest that we are taking the path of least resistance. Helping others understand and communicate is at the core of who we claim we are and what we claim we do. It seems to follow that those principles would also apply to our own understandings and descriptions of ourselves and our field.

Third, institutionally, we are an organizational mess. What I mean by that is institutions rarely know what to do with us, where to put us in the organizational chart, or how we should interface with the greater institution. Think about where our units live in a university setting. At some institutions, we operate fully or partially under student affairs, at others fully or partially under academic affairs, at many a mix. I know of at least one unit that reports directly to the president. I know of at least one that reports to enrollment management. The organization of units has the same challenges. International student and scholar services may be a unit or it may be divided up across multiple units. At one of my previous units, those responsible for international student services worked across admissions, global education, student affairs, and the registrar’s office. Figuring out who had what responsibilities was a challenge for staff, let alone students. Part of the reason no one knows what to do with us (i.e., where we fit) is that we do not have a clear sense of who we are and what we are trying to do. Part of the reason we are often unsuccessful is that we compete against each other rather than collaborating toward a common goal. In sum, all three of these result in an identity crisis for us.

The Solution
Having a clear understanding of who we are is important. Articulating it to others is also important. It defines who we are. It makes others take us seriously. Most importantly, it signals a unity in the field. A unity that says not only do we know who we are, but we have consensus on mission. We have a path forward. We have a mechanism for thinking about the commonality that unites us. It means that we collaborate with each other to achieve that better world rather than compete with each other for limited institutional resources.

My academic home is in communication. As part of my graduate work, I had to read a series of articles arguing about the core of what communication is and how we define it as an academic field. The most prominent of those arguments exists in The Chautauqua Series, a series of published debates designed to define the uniting characteristic or central theme of the field. The most commonly accepted view in the field of communication is that regardless of context, the focus is on messages. While I am not advocating a series of academic journal articles where scholars debate the merits of one term over the other (although those who know me know I would not be opposed to that), I am suggesting that we need to come together as a field and agree who we are and what we do. My academic field did this work. It has an identity. I am unconvinced global education does. This must be a topic of discussion. It must be a focus of our future. We need to design conference sessions around this. Our professional associations need to discuss possibilities. Dissent needs to be heard. A clear identity needs to emerge. We need unity. What does that look like? There are a number of options. The paragraph below offers an example. Note, what I suggest is not the only option, nor do I claim it is the best option. It is merely an option.

I am a global educator. I help people develop the skills and abilities necessary to interact in effective and appropriate ways across a variety of contexts. I currently perform this role as a consultant helping organizations with their global strategy, professional development and training, and partnerships. What I like about this approach is that it selects a singular term, provides a description of that term, and includes a sense of how I connect with the term. Is it more work? Yes. Does it provide others a better sense of the field and what we do? I say yes, again. Yet, despite viewing myself as a global educator, when others ask, I often respond with context. That was especially true of past me. Present me is trying to be better. I hope that future me is even better when someone asks what I do. I invite you to consider how you might do this better, too.

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The Focus of Institutions
At small institutions, personalities of leaders are often the driver. A charismatic president or a focused vice president set the tone and vision for the institution. The focus is on what people can do and making sure that we hire the right people for the organization. This means the organization’s focus, direction, and priorities shift with people. Such a shift typically occurs when people enter or exit the institution. However, it can also change when a key leader has a new idea or learns of an approach that worked at another institution. This creates a somewhat nimble operational environment as employees must be ready to pivot at a moment’s notice. Such an environment can be quite useful in times of crisis or major societal change. However, it is detrimental if the leadership is poor or if the leader does not possess the capacity to persuade those who report to them of the value of what they desire. Further, lower-level decisions often require approval from (or in some instances to be made by) senior leaders, which can slow the organization’s decision-making process. Organizationally, the roles and/or tasks assigned to individuals often make little structural sense. It is a given that individuals will perform multiple roles in smaller organizations, but the collection of roles is often about who they are rather than their primary responsibilities or skillsets.

By contrast, larger organizations tend to be policy driven. Procedures rule. They must. Large organizations need procedures in place to ensure that people receive equitable treatment, to ensure compliance, and to provide a clear structure for a system in which many of the people performing the same tasks may not know each other. For example, at a flagship, research-intensive university, the rules governing how each unit spends its budget need to be consistent for compliance. It would be unusual for every employee with budget management responsibilities to know each other. Therefore, rules govern to ensure processes function. The advantages to such a system are that the rules are clear (albeit often inflexible) and that the organization provides equitable experiences and/or treatment for all its constituents. The expectations are clear as they exist in written form, and people rarely need to wait for senior leadership to know how to act or respond in most contexts. People generally know how the organization operates and what their role in that operation is. However, the focus on procedure often means that reliance on current rules suppresses change. Individuals have a role and the expectation is that most of what they do fits within the confines of that role. Change, even change that senior leadership wants, does not come quickly because the system orders and structures that change (or in some cases, prevents it). Often, the roles individuals hold are a direct result of their backgrounds, skills, training, and education rather than who they are as people. The focus is on the procedural attributes they bring to the organization or role rather than who they are as a person.

Medium-sized institutions often struggle with the tension between policy and people. They typically grew from smaller institutions that operated via personalities, but have some policies and procedures in place. If you do a deep dive into the policies of these institutions, you usually find imbalance. Policies exist in some spaces (or partially exist), but not others. The places where they exist are often past pain/pressure points that necessitated a clear change. Indeed, pain or pressure points are often the driver of policy — we institutionalize something when external forces require us to do so. That said, it can be hard to classify these institutions given their developmental stage. The key question to ask is what governs decision-making. If it is process, then the organization is operating from a policy framework. If it is a person (or small group of people), then the organization is operating from a people framework. Frequently, it may be a mix of these - some decisions flow from process while others flow from people. There may be a clear rationale as to which decisions fit in which category, or it may appear random. Figuring out how the institution in which we work operates is essential for progress.

The Perpetual Tension
The key point for global educators is that the differences in institutional structure and decision-making processes related to organizational size highlight a complexity that permeates international education. It is a tension that we cannot fully resolve, and one that will at various points in our professional careers be out of balance. The tension shapes the focus of our work as international educators. Do we focus on people or policy? I assume that most readers are likely thinking the simple answer is to do both…and they would be right. As a field, global education is one of a handful in which this tension is real in the daily work - it is a categorical imperative that we do both. However, stating what we should do and actually doing it are vastly different. There is inherent complexity in trying to develop people and build systems simultaneously. The system in which we operate likely privileges one of these over the other. Our own skills and abilities as well as focus in our work likely gravitate toward one over the other. Those with whom we work or those whom we lead have preferences as well. The area of global education in which we work may require more of one. When we combine these factors (and there are more) it is easy to see how complex developing people while building systems is. Despite the tension and the complexity, getting this right is the magic sauce - the formula that makes our unit or organization successful.

The Way Forward
What does this look like in practice? Complicated. Intensive. Laborious. When we hire, we need to select the best person for the role given their skills, background, expertise, experiences and who they are - because who they are impacts how they will show up for the role. I recognize this does not fit easily in human resources criteria or maybe even their rules, but it is a critical part of this work. This is an area where leaders and non-leaders in an organization need to push back against institutional norms. After their onboarding (and it is imperative that we onboard them), they need structured guidance to ensure that they understand the policies and procedures of the organization. They also need ongoing professional development to help them hone their skills and abilities. This professional development should be a combination of internal and external opportunities that promote skills growth, benefit the organization, and advantage the employee. They need spaces where they can talk about the impact of policies and procedures, recommend changes, and be part of decision-making processes. They need opportunities for advancement, which we must admit may be outside of the organization. They need to be treated as a valuable and contributing member of the organization. This requires engagement from individuals across all levels of the organization - not only from leadership.

When we create or modify policy, we need to ensure that those who will experience the impact of decisions have a voice in the decision-making process. That means consulting people whose titles are not decision-making titles. It means listening even when you disagree. Policies and procedures must have regular review intervals because the best way of doing something five years ago may not be the best today. Change should be intentional. Benchmarking against field standards should be the norm. Examining policies and procedures of peer and aspirant institutions is an integral part of the process. Consequences should be anticipated. A system for addressing unintended outcomes should exist. The hiring process should account for what potential employees bring to policy and/or procedural changes. Individuals and organizations need to recognize (explicitly and formally) the complexity of this process and the contributions of all members of the organization.

Good international educators (and yes, I am using value-laden language intentionally) are leaders who live in this tension. They recognize the need to both develop people and build systems. They strive for an overall balance of both. They are aware that there are times when being out of balance is necessary for achieving goals and long-term balance. When legislators enact new laws or agencies change regulations, the impact is to people and policy. When an organization unveils a new strategic plan, the impact is to people and policy. Needs shift. People shift. Constraints shift. Yet through it all, good global educators recognize balancing the develop people-build systems tension as the magic sauce that allows organizations to work toward sustainable outcomes for all constituents. They reflect on their role in pushing toward balance. They are cognizant of moments when balance is off, and as a former senior international officer, I can say with certainty that my balance was often off. Yet in those moments of imbalance, they are searching for, reaching for a pathway to achieve balance. With that in mind, I will end this post with a question global educators need to return to frequently as they navigate this tension: How is your balance?

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The Framing Challenge
First, the logical connection between growth and discomfort that is apparent to some of us working in international and global education is not apparent to all of us. The fact that the field does not fully recognize this connection means that those leading the field have work to do. I do not enter every space where global educators are present assuming everyone has the same understanding of the field or that everyone is at the same level of development with their intercultural competencies and skills. In fact, having spent over twenty years in the classroom, I expect to encounter differences. However, this experience highlighted that I do not expect to encounter fundamental differences in the foundational principles of the field in such spaces, and I think the experience of discomfort as a precondition for intercultural growth is such a foundational principle. In the pause where I internally regrouped to address the question of what I meant in the experience of discomfort for those present, I reminded myself that we are all at different developmental stages — even those of us with 20+ years of experience. That reminder was useful in the moment. However, it failed to satisfy the moments that followed. When we think of and talk about the field of global or international education, we often do so through the discourse of growth. I am a firm believer in such an approach. However, that same discourse that guides our thinking and speaking routinely neglects the precondition of that growth — discomfort. We frequently create the conditions for students to experience growth through discomfort. Yet, we rarely do the same for ourselves. This is our status quo, and it very much troubles me. The reason it troubles me is that it is a status quo designed to reproduce itself rather than one designed to produce growth. It privileges our own comfort over a better future. It lets us focus on ourselves rather than others. It lets us embrace static ways rather than change.

The Implementation Challenge
Such an embrace of the status quo makes it obvious that even international educators who connect growth and discomfort are not necessarily actively seeking spaces of discomfort, and that was my second realization. We are playing the classic game of do what I say, not what I do. In my shift away from a full-time campus role to consulting, I recognize that the role difference means I more frequently inhabit more spaces of discomfort. The campus environment is one I know well. One I can relatively easily navigate and adapt for my needs and purposes. One that requires minimal change. Consulting is a different dynamic and I am not able to operate in the same way that I did at an institution. In acknowledging the increase in finding myself in more spaces of discomfort, I also began to seek out more of these spaces. I am leaning into them when I encounter them, and growing as a result of this action. What does this look like? Not pretty, that is for certain. It looks like taking the time to have a conversation with someone whose political views are drastically different from my own (as evidenced by their apparel). It means being fully present in conversations where people share things I do not necessarily want to hear (even if I am confident my interpretation is better than theirs). It requires me to seek out constructive criticism rather than bury my head in the sand and pretend everything is fine. It is a shift in attitude, perspective, and goals. I think a big part of the reason the global educators I opened the essay with reacted the way they did is that they recognized the inherent struggle in embracing discomfort and they did not like it. That is an important reality to acknowledge. This is not something that humans like to do. Rather, it is a necessity for those who truly want to grow. Sometimes what is good for us does not align with what is comfortable for us, or what we like. For global educators, that is the time to embrace the discomfort.

The Impact Challenge
My third realization flowed from the previous two. If the individuals tasked with promoting and supporting students’ global learning are not ensuring that they themselves are engaged in global learning (as evidenced by maintenance of the status quo and a lack of continued growth), they do the field a disservice. More importantly, they do their students a disservice. Indeed, I would go so far as to suggest that they are not effective in their work if they are not continuing to find ways to grow and develop their own intercultural skills and competencies. It is difficult, virtually impossible, to teach that which we do not know. When it comes to global learning, what we are trying to teach is much more about process than about outcome. This means that those teaching, demonstrating, or guiding the learning must be familiar with the process. Familiarity with the process means continually engaging in it. Far too frequently we rely on outdated cultural knowledge to guide processes. Far too frequently we fail to acknowledge that cultures shift over time. Societies alter their systems, attitudes, customs, and beliefs to meet the needs of the current moment. In the decade I spent as a faculty-leader of education abroad programs, I had to adapt what I told students about apparel expectations, language, and financial transactions because the host country culture shifted. In observing colleagues, I noted that far too frequently we are still passing along outdated information. Global educators must keep abreast of cultural changes, which means staying engaged in process. A process that requires embracing discomfort to achieve growth. A process focused on moving into a future different from the status quo. If global educators are serious about global learning (and we claim to be), then we must be serious about our own global learning. Developing intercultural skills and competencies is not just something we do for students. It must also be something that we do for ourselves. This is a continual growth process that requires intentional efforts by global educators to put themselves in positions to grow, and it is rare that such growth occurs within the confines of the offices of our institutions and organizations.

Closing Reflection
What this experience brought into greater clarity for me is the level of comfort international educators have with the status quo. I saw this in action at a conference of one of the field’s professional organizations earlier in the year. At an open forum, someone asked the leaders of the organization a specific question about organizational change. The question hinged on misinterpretation (the individual posing it misunderstood something about the change), but the leaders answered it and addressed the misunderstanding. As part of the answer one of the leaders made it clear that the organization was only considering minimal change. They stated, “we are not considering X (the misunderstanding).” My first thought was: why not? Why are we not considering X? In posing the question, I do not imply that we should do X. However, what is the harm in fully considering X — even if X upsets some people? I would not have asked these questions three years ago. I would have been fine with the status quo or with minimal change. I am more open to change today than I was then, and I am convinced that the reason for my greater openness is the result of seeking out greater discomfort. I am working on process, and that is leading to changes in my own capacities and skills as a global educator. The process is far from perfect. Mistakes abound. It is messy. That is what global learning is, and the price for participating is leaning into discomfort.

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The Challenge
While contemporary challenges are always a hot topic at conferences, on discussion boards, in professional conversations, and even on LinkedIn, those of us working in the field of international/global education have a responsibility (I would even go so far as to say a duty) to think about the future. Yet for all of our thinking about the future, many of the conversations I referenced above seem to repeat themselves across time and space. As someone with an academic background rooted in human communication, I relish the opportunity to engage with others. However, I also experience continual frustration that many of our conversations do not lead to substantive change.

Given the nature of international education and the political and social sensibilities connected with it, the field does a decent job voicing concerns for understanding others, building a better world, and thinking about the impact our actions have on the planet. Yet, the daily grind consumes us. Many of the great conversations we have at professional meetings do not leave those meetings. They do not translate to conversations in the workplace or meaningful change for the students and professionals we serve. To some extent, this is a product of the times in which we live. The value of higher education and international education is under assault. Geopolitical tensions seem to be at an all-time high. Political meddling in international education seems to be at unprecedented levels. Doing more with less is the modus operandi for most global education professionals. Instability, turnover, and churn characterize the employment landscape, driving uncertainty for many international educators. Mental health crises driven by stress, uncertainty, and a seemingly broken system dominate much of our lived experiences. In the current era of doom and gloom, logic suggests that conversations to advance the field often find themselves relegated to hushed corners of convention centers or behind closed office doors.

Yet, if we take a pause and reflect on the moment, we might recognize that while we live in an era of doom and gloom for many, it is also an era ripe with possibilities. The future is unpredictable. AI is changing the ways in which we work. Students are entering the space more concerned about others and their impact on the world than at any prior moment in my career. Current geopolitical tensions and the COVID-19 pandemic provide renewed and compelling justifications for the work of international and global education. The moment invites, indeed demands, us to ask the question: If not now, then when? If we are not ready to adapt and change to build a more sustainable future, can we truly call ourselves global educators? If our focus on the present requires so much of our time and attention that we are not actively engaging with the future, are we doing the work of international education?

The Goal
The purpose of this Substack is to challenge us collectively as a field — as a community of international educators doing the work that defines our common identity. To push us beyond our traditional limits. To push us to contemplate the future. To push us to think. To push us to advocate. To build a better world than the one in which we operate. To leave a legacy defined by growth and a future-orientation. To inspire and lead those who come behind us to fail better, to serve better, to educate better, and to grow better.

This is a space where I will share ideas designed to propel the field into the future. Things I think we desperately need to consider. Ideas that need to be revisited or incorporated more fully into our work. My goal is not to chastise or to rebuke or to call out…well, maybe a little bit of the latter. Instead, my fervent hope is that these writings will propel conversations across the field. To keep the momentum generated in those conference engagements going. My commitment to you and to our field is two postings per month (around the first and fifteenth of each month). The purpose of this work is to advance the field through a future-oriented framework. I cannot promise that every post will do this successfully. However, I can promise that my intention is to push us to think and talk about a better future.

I hope that you will join me on this journey. Posts will be free for all to read. Comments will be available to subscribers. The rationale for adopting this model is to eliminate barriers to access for the content I provide, while simultaneously providing a space for interested parties to engage in conversation about the ideas I think are essential for our field to consider. The goal is for this space to be a community free from bots and trolls; thus the nominal cost associated with this type of subscription.

Finally, I want to note that these writings represent my thoughts at the time of publication. Like all of us engaged in the worthy endeavor of global education, growth (i.e., change) is a central component of my personal and professional journey. Indeed, it is central to the human experience. As such, I exhort readers to recognize that my own growth process may result in shifts in thinking and views over time. This is a natural part of life, and I would ask the reader’s grace and understanding if at some point writings contradict previous posts.

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