Prof. Andrea Broomfield on Life as a JCCC Student

 

• Andrea Broomfield Blogs about Life as a JCCC Student, Post #2

Shortly after I was awarded my sabbatical, euphoria disappeared and a host of pesky logistical problems crowded in on my little celebration.  Chief among them was gaining admission to JCCC as a student.

Since I am an already an English professor here and “just” taking a sabbatical,  did I even need to apply?  I assumed no, and I nursed that false assumption all the way to October, 2014, when it was time to pre-enroll.  Numerous niggling questions related to admissions also invaded my peace of mind:  If I did not have to go through an official application process, did I go through an “application lite” process instead?  How do I use the Class Schedule and Academic tabs on JCCC.edu to find classes?  How do I pay tuition?  Do I actually want a culinary career waiting for me after I start–and finish–actual coursework?  Should I audit some of these courses so that I can save myself from having to study so hard?    Do I really have to take the sanitation class, or can I just kind of “sneak” out of it?  Do I have to take the Compass placement test even if I already have a terminal degree?  Surely not, I told myself, but that particular question haunted me the most.

These questions made me anxious. Anxiety made me procrastate. Eventually, I had no choice but to seek answers. When I emailed Admissions in October, 2014, to ask (or state), “ I don’t need to formally apply to JCCC since I am a full-time English professor, do I?” and the answer was yes, I must formally apply, I was troubled enough to consider giving up the sabbatical.  I saw mounds of work ahead of me as a result of that answer of yes.  Although applying, enrolling, and paying the tuition bill was not really that hard for me to accomplish, I nonetheless came close to understanding the minds of thousands of prospective JCCC students who teeter there on that same psychological precipice.  Like me at the moment I opened the Admissions email, prospective students are trying to muster energy and courage to take the initial steps towards an uncertain future.  I now know what it feels like to make it just far enough to find the answers one does not want to hear–answers that will make one work on and out a whole lot of things that don’t even have anything to do with coursework.  These early question force students to confront an ultimatum:  keep on with what you already do even if you are unhappy (but know the ropes), or take risks that might net you failures but that might also show a new pathway.

The shame of actually giving up a sabbatical because I was afraid of the admissions and the enrollment process trumped all my hesitation, and so I forged ahead.  I also scolded myself:  Had you simply taken care of this matter of admissions as soon as you were awarded the sabbatical, you would have less chaos and stress right now in the insanity of midterm exam time.

Now, I was lucky in many respects.  For one, I knew the people to email to get answers fast and authoritatively.  Many students do not.  For another, I had my Composition I: Food Focus students cheering me on and informally advising me when I told them that shortly I would be enrolled right alongside them in the HCA.   I owe those students a lot for their help, even when what they revealed increased my anxiety.

“Professor,” one student pointed out to me during our class break,  “You know you have to get the Compass test done quickly; don’t put it off.”   It was as if that student was intimate with my worst nightmare scenario. When I protested, “Surely not! I’m already a professor here!  Why would they make me take a placement test for math and English?!”, he told me that he already had his degree from JCCC, but that when he decided enroll in the HCA’s Dietary Management program, he himself had to take the Compass test.  I realized that I was not necessarily off the hook.

Sick with dread that I would take the placement test and be exposed as mathematically challenged (I was not worried about the English portion), I made further inquiries and was informed that if I was not “degree seeking,” and if my courses had no prerequisites, I would not need the test.  I was of course relieved, but if I decide to pursue my AAS in the Chef Apprenticeship Program, or my Certificate in Pastry/Baking, then I will indeed have to submit to the test and suffer the consequences of likely remediation in math.

The strain and stress of what I went through was worth it. I now understand why many prospective students drop out long before the first day of class.  Logistical questions–how do I enroll, and do I need to take the Compass placement test–crowd in there with the scarier, more abstract questions: Do I want a new career?  What if I waste my time and money?  What if I am exposed as stupid??  I understand fundamentally what it feels like as a working adult with multiple responsibilities to start the application process. Many JCCC students resemble me in that respect. They do not have the luxury of time and space to think about their futures systematically; they are simply trying to find a way to “fit in” higher education around crazy job schedules and a litany of adult obligations.  While some high school seniors have supportive parents who ensure that their children make college visits, show up for ACT and SAT tests, and enjoy an uninterrupted winter break to do nothing more than apply to their top selections, most have none of those luxuries, and thus, even the most basic things, like navigating the JCCC homepage, can be overwhelming and defeating.

My knowledge of application and enrollment does not have a direct bearing on how I teach, but it has had a profound impact on how I interact with the students who have made it through this admissions gauntlet to end up in my classes.  I am a much better advisor, mentor, and ally of students, able to get past the banalities and to the core of their worries and stress that inevitably beset many students as they seek a better life.  The extraordinary thing is that I had no idea that deciding to go back to college would entail any of this kind of anxiety. I could not fathom as I blithely went about applying for a sabbatical that I would be forced to confront aspects about myself that I had either been too distracted before to confront, or that I had become an expert at hiding somewhere deep inside.  This, ultimately, is what applying to college entails.

Andrea Broomfield, Ph.D.
Professor of English
Johnson County Community College
Overland Park, KS  66210  USA
abroomfi@jccc.edu

• Andrea Broomfield Blogs about Life as a JCCC Student, Post #1

“Those Who Dare to Teach Must Never Cease To Learn”:  A Professor Returns to the Classroom by Andrea Broomfield

Teachers know that the joy of instructing students comes from what they learn themselves.  Effective teachers are natural-born learners, and I am hardly an exception.  In spring, 2015, I spent my sabbatical in Johnson County Community College’s Hospitality and Culinary Academy (HCA) as a student.  I wanted to take what I learned and apply it to new food writing courses I was developing and teaching for our English department. Working in the kitchen, sitting through lectures, completing term papers, stressing out over practicums, and studying for the nationwide ServSafe examination would give me an edge when in fall, 2015 (now, in other words), I resumed my place behind the podium.

First, a bit of background.  I realized how much I needed to become a student in the HCA because I had already designed and was teaching Composition I: Food Focus, but I was doing so with a hazy idea of what my students’ daily routines were like, and what they actually studied.  Was I really helping these students if I required them to keep a food diary and write an essay analyzing it?  Was it that valuable to require them to investigate and write about a current food controversy? A culinary fad?  Was a recipe narrative all that valuable?  While such assignments seemed straight-forward to me because they all had to do with food, I increasingly recognized that without a solid grasp on how the HCA operated, what degrees and certificates enrolled students worked towards aside from a chef apprenticeship, I was not going to reach those students in a meaningful way.

Thus, I determined that to gain more confidence teaching HCA students by becoming one myself. I would enroll in typical first semester HCA courses, including Professional Cooking I (PC I), Perspectives in Hospitality Management (HMGT 121), and Food Service Sanitation.  I would sit there with them in lectures, cook with them on teams, engage them during breaks, put in volunteer hours in the HCA kitchen, and study right along with them.

The purpose of my blog is to go beyond the nitty-gritty of how to fabricate a fish or how to calculate a hotel room rack rate.  It is to share with my colleagues, students, and curious browsers what it felt like to be a student.  I want to offer some insights and stories about my experiences, and suggest strategies on how professors might reach their students more effectively.  At times, I might wax philosophical as I consider what it feels like to be simultaneously on both sides of the podium.