Why the 'customer
service' lingo in academe is bad for students
“[Last] month Texas A&M University
at Kingsville posted a new job ad for a faculty member in
early-modern/Renaissance literature. The first line of the ‘job summary’ reads,
in all capital letters: ‘PROVIDE EXCELLENT CUSTOMER SERVICE.’ A bit lower, the
job description mentions that the selected candidate will have to teach four
courses a semester while remaining ‘active in research, professional
development, and service to the university and profession.’
“The ad represents a culmination of
dangerous trends in higher education that threaten to erode the single most
important relationship we form in our profession: the complex, multifaceted one
between teacher and student.
“For years now, corporate language and
thinking has invaded academe, correlating with many other trends—the decline of
public funding from states, the rising price of tuition, the amenities
arms-race in student housing, the administrative bloat, the demands of assessment
culture, and, most of all, the general saturation of corporate-speak into
academic life. Institutions, especially branch campuses of public university
systems and small private colleges, feel perpetually strapped for cash and
desperate for tuition revenue.
“In that context, the attempt to shift
the world of higher education into the business paradigm seems rational to
administrators: Without customers—i.e., students—faculty jobs will be cut,
programs shuttered, and staff members ‘downsized…’
“[P]ublic discourse has consequences
for how we think and act. Tell faculty members that they are obligated to treat
students like customers, and the instructors will either eschew rigor in favor
of making satisfaction guaranteed or work defensively lest they be harangued by
the irate customer. Tell students that they are consumers, and they will act like
consumers but ultimately learn less and perhaps not even receive the credential
that they think they are buying.
“Students who believe that they are
mere customers are selling themselves short, as are the faculty members and
administrators who apply business-speak to the classroom. Students are not
customers to be served. They are far more important than that.
“Customer service implies participating
in a system of transaction or exchange in which one side provides a service to
another. While plenty of money changes hands, universities don’t really sell a product,
not in the sense that ‘customer service’ implies, anyway… When [we] hear
students explicitly define themselves as customers, it’s often in the context
of perceived bad teaching, a sense that the structure surrounding the learning
opportunity is somehow deficient.
“It’s not just that students want
simply to buy a degree. Students place reasonable desires—faster grading, fewer
lectures, more lectures, more preparation, clearer grading standards, etc.—into
the framework of commerce. It’s a way of reversing the power dynamics. A
customer holds a special place in our society. They have the right to complain,
pressure, and go over the head of the worker to the management…
“[However], education is created, not
consumed. [W]e cannot expect students to believe that when every message from
academe itself tells them that they can just buy it. In addition, any
short-term power that students gain over their professors by introducing a
controlling commercial metaphor into the classroom dynamic is more than
mitigated by the losses.
“Faculty members respond to the
student-as-consumer by teaching defensively, fearing the management that we
formerly referred to as administration. But administrators administrate on
behalf of the faculty. Employees delivering customer service get managed…
“The syllabus is one place where the
defensive crouch of the customer-service professor hurts student learning. Many
faculty members and some teaching
centers talk about the syllabus as a contract, an
explicit use of the corporate-speech in the classroom. The contractual model
has some positive aspects. It’s a way of increasing the stakes in order to push
students to actually read the syllabus and try to create a sense of reciprocal
obligation. In a contract, both sides are obligated to hold to its terms…
“Encouraging notions of reciprocity lie
at the heart of the emergence of the lengthy, faux-legalistic
syllabus-as-contract. Instead, such a document functions as a form of pre-emptive
defense from lawsuits or disciplinary complaints lodged by students upset about
their grades, wanting special exemptions, or otherwise responding to challenges
in the classroom—much like a customer angry at a business for providing lousy
or incorrect service...
“Students are not mere customers to be
wrung out for tuition in the short term and donations in the future. Faculty
members are not cashiers, ringing up the bill when students check out with
knowledge—and not because that would be demeaning to the professor, but because
the responsibility of a teacher to his or her students is far greater than the
employee to the customer.”
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