Hastings Spencer

This section offers a brief introduction to key concepts. The discussions herein offers instructors one of many preliminary reflection opportunities as they consider incorporating community engagement in their classrooms.

 

COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT

Terms such as service-learning (with or without the hypen) and community engagement, civi engagement and community engaged scholarship are often used interchangeably. We use community engagement because it is the most deliberate and precise language for our practice. Service-learning in particular reflects an outdated framework of engagement which views the university as having superior resources to surrounding (beleaguered) communities, to whom they are charitably providing services (Deans, 2003). This orientation towards community engaged work, however, can unintentionally promote the approach that “any engagement as good engagement” – that communities will benefit naturally and as a matter of course from the presence of these services and resources endowed to students and faculty by nature of their university status. The foregrounding of learning in this term likewise indicates an unequal balance of power, in which it is more important that students learn than for all parties to engage and benefit from the experience of community engagement.

The issues with this framework are obvious in both ethical and educational registers. For both students and communities, carefully contrived mechanisms of preparation and guidance to scaffold both student learning and interaction with community stakeholders. The framework of engagement should be made explicit to students up-front, alongside learning outcomes and the position their community interactions occupy in their curriculum; as will be covered in detail later, the element of reflection in integrating experience-as-text, and reinforcing communities as sources of valuable knowledge, is indispensable. These up-front and ongoing efforts should come into play long before students begin engaged projects or experiences. This is because students can and do harm communities, as do other uninformed and uncritical engaged initiatives.

We use community engagement to refer directly to a reciprocal relationship – an engagement – with the community, as opposed to the community being “serviced” and/or presuming less agency in the relationship. The emphasis on the act of engagement emphasizes, in turn, the ongoing efforts required of effective and ethical work alongside mutual respect and agency between community and university stakeholders.

While the work students do in collaboration with communities as part of community engaged coursework is, indeed, valuable, the term “community engagement” engages these skills in more than this purely economic context, reframing the skills students learn during engaged coursework as part of reciprocal relationships for the purposes of accomplishing an aim as opposed to being completed for a grade or, later, for money. This perpetuates the idea of skills learned in the classroom as existing on a one-way street in terms of a one-to-one exchange. Using the term “community engagement” instead frames the work of engaged classrooms as being part of a multi-way relationship working towards more than strictly financial benefit, speaking to the essential work of fostering democratic engagement through such curricula. As Mitchel (2014) writes, this framework is essential to “the development of civic identity… afford[ing] participation, knowledge acquisition, and values clarification.”

There are other issues of terminology to be clarified regarding community engagement as implemented through coursework. As Howard (2001) discusses, there are significant differences between “academic service-learning is the same as student community service and co-curricular service-learning” (Howard 2001, p.13). The difference between these three aspects is one of learning agenda and integration, or proximity, of engagement to actual coursework; for our purposes, “academic service-learning, illustrated by student community service integrated into an academic course,” can be understood as one which “utilizes the service experience as a course ‘text’ for both academic learning and civic learning” (13). The integration of experience-as-text done properly should center, rather than marginalize, “learning in, from, and with the community” (13). Here, the community is not a fixed entity operating as stagnant object or text, but a collective of individuals to be regarded as collaborators and the authorities on their own experience and community, and as an active source of useful knowledge applicable across contexts.[1]

 

ON COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT DRIVEN by a “LAND GRANT” MISSION

The language instructors use in the classroom is an easy way to be specific about the nature of engagement when working with students or communicating with community partners and should reflect careful consideration of the power dynamics which further inform those interactions. This means a specific understanding of a particular university’s relationship to all its surrounding communities presently and historically, in order that injustices which likely informed the infrastructure of that particular institution can be worked against through the daily actions of instructors and other CES practitioners. This is the case in both classroom instruction and partnership initiation, maintenance, and evaluation.

In the case of WSU and other Land Grant Institutions outlined in the 1862 iteration of the act, this entails being mindful of the racist and colonialist connotations of that act as they inform contemporary functions of their university – particularly when invoking the ideals of the Morrill Land Grant Act as justification for broader implementation of community engagement initiatives. WSU was established in the latter half of the 19th century in consequence of the Morrill Land-Grant Act of 1862. Subsequent iterations of this act designated several historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and tribal colleges and universities (TCUs) as land-grant institutions – notably, without any actual granting of land, as their predecessors had received, and at a much later date (1890 and 1994, respectively).

Institutions such as WSU, known as the “1862 land grant institutions,” received 30,000s acres per member of Congress. Most of this land was stolen from Indigenous tribes who had lived there for generations. Additionally, Martin and Hipp (2018) argue that this land given as an initial resource to the 1862 institutions “provided the basis for solidifying the 1862 institutions,” Not awarding similar land grants to subsequent land grant institutions “institutionalized an inability of tribal colleges to catch up in any meaningful way to the deeply embedded infrastructures that have advantaged the 1862 institutions.” There is, in short, a specific, distinctly racialized, and colonialist foundation underlying the 1862 land grants requiring specific redress. While it is not at the behest of any individual classroom to afford 1890 or 1994 institutions sufficient funding to bridge this infrastructural gap, a working knowledge of this dynamic as it informs the way Indigenous communities interact with the WSU campuses, including WSU Vancouver.

It is not the function of this text to suggest what specific steps should be taken by WSU or other Land Grant Institutions individually or as a collective should take; neither is it within our purview to speculate what specifically the American Governments at any level should do in response to rectify these inequalities. Neither does this text seek to judge the efficacy of the variety of efforts such campuses, including WSU Vancouver, advances in collaboration with various Indigenous communities. Rather, it identifies the colonialist implications of the framework it invokes alongside WSU Vancouver and identifies it as one of many ethical concerns with a variety of actionable steps for instructors to take.

One example of daily practice that instructors or other practitioners might incorporate in acknowledgement of these connotations includes a thorough consideration of “land acknowledgements.” It is commonplace at WSU Vancouver, WSU as a whole, and similar institutions across the region to include as, for example, part of an email signature or mission statement an acknowledgement of the Indigenous communities from which the land of their institutions was taken. The Native Governance Center’s guide to Indigenous land acknowledgment provides instructive guidance and begins with a call to self-reflect on the nature of this action as encompassing the following items:

• The Indigenous people to whom the land belongs.
• The history of the land and any related treaties.
• Names of living Indigenous people from these communities. If you’re presenting on behalf of your work in a certain field, highlight Indigenous people who currently work in that field.
• Indigenous place names and language.
• Correct pronunciation for the names of the Tribes, places, and individuals that you’re including.

In moving through articulation of a land acknowledgement, the guide advises using descriptive and honest terminology such as “genocide” when acknowledging the treatment of Indigenous people. Likewise, statements should acknowledge trespasses, past, present, and ongoing. What the concrete end-goal of this process will look like in terms of moving from articulation through to action is dependent on a given instructor’s self-reflection and the context in which their engagement efforts will function. However, at a university which invokes its status as a land grant institution to contextualize engagement efforts, this is one of many concerns instructors should consider when framing engagement for students and formulating their own approach to community partnerships. It is an example of one way in which instructors might consider the power dynamics of their position as affecting certain communities they may collaborate with.

 

BUILDING COLLABORATIVE, RECIPROCAL PARTNERSHIPS

The discussion of the common appeal to the land grant mission is one example of an ethical concern made concrete and urgent within the context of community engagement; it displays one of many steps instructors might take in beginning to address it. It should be emphasized, however, that the fundamental aspects of the classroom as an extension of the institution in question – and the community in question – should be taken into thorough, historically-informed consideration with appropriate adjustments determined at the forefront. The specific paradigm of the land grant is part of a broader paradigm concerning the founding and growth of western institutions of higher education more generally – this much David Watson points out: “… all university institutions grew in some way from the communities that originally sponsored them. These acts of foundation varied according to a range of local circumstances, in time and location. Many such founding commitments have been transformed – positively and perversely – over the ensuing years, but the familiar image of a university as somewhat separate from its community – as, for example, an ivory tower – is curiously unfaithful to the historical record.”

Functionally, we orient ourselves as instructors both as part of classroom and campus communities, but also local, national, and international communities. We circulate within the same communities as our students and partners in many environments. One major premise of this guide is that we co-exist in the same community, co-equally, with students and partners. Indeed, the campus we work for exists within the community we look to support, by way of community engagement practices. This notion of nested, co-equal community environments is a mindset that promotes a more egalitarian approach to community engagement practices.

CampusEngage, a network providing support to CES in institutions of higher education in Ireland, provides a set of useful principles for elucidating similar ethical concerns that can inform essential functions of engagement, including maintaining mutually beneficial partnerships and framing curricular engagement for students.

Respect: The views and interests of all stakeholders should be taken seriously;

Collaborative autonomy: The community organisation and higher education organisation should share decision-making authority in the realisation of the project;

Transparency: Stakeholders should be kept informed about the project, its progress and impact;

Consent: Informed agreement to participate in the project should be obtained from participants;

Benefit: The project should not cause harm to stakeholders and benefit the community;

Fairness: There needs to be a fair balance between project related benefits and burdens for stakeholders;

Accountability: Professional stakeholders are accountable for their actions towards other stakeholders (Ross et al., 2010).

Dostilio et al. (2012) describes this framework as defining a sound “ethos of reciprocity.” In their words more specifically, partnerships should encompass three essential components: exchange, influence, and generativity.  That is, both parties “should benefit” (exchange), “impact the work” (influence), and “together produce systemic change, create new value, and/or undergo transformation in their way of being” (generativity) [21].

 

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

This guide provides recommendations, strategies, and insights for the praxis of reciprocal, curricular community engagement efforts. Foundational principles regarding use of language, privilege, and ethics inform these materials. That said, there is always opportunity to improve, reflect, and reconsider our positionally. We look forward to exploring these materials with you and hope you’ll share your insights and recommendations with us.

 

WORKS CITED

Axtell, Sara. “Creating a Community-Engaged Scholarship (CES) Faculty Development Program Phase One: Program and Skill Mapping,” Office for Public Engagement, University of Minnesota, 2008.

Deans, Thomas. “Community Service and Critical Teaching A Retrospective Conversation with Bruce.” Reflections 3.1 (2003).

Dostilio, Lina, Sarah M. Brackman, Kathleen Edwards, Barbara Harrison, Brandon Kliewer, and Patti Clayton. “Reciprocity: Saying What We Mean and Meaning What We Say.” Michigan Journal of Community Service Learning, Vol. 19, No. 1, 2012, pp. 17-32.

Gatti, Lauren; Masterson, Jessica E.; Brooke, Robert; Shah, Rachael W.; and Thomas, Sarah, “English education as democratic armor: Responding programmatically to our political work” (2018). Faculty Publications: Department of Teaching, Learning and Teacher Education. 321. https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/teachlearnfacpub/321

Howard, Jeffrey (ed.) Service-Learning Course Design Workbook. Michigan Journal of Community Service Learning, 2001.

Martin, Michael V, and Janie Simms Hipp. “A Time for Substance: Confronting Funding Inequities at Land Grant Institutions,” n.d., 3.

McCloskey, Donna Jo, Tabia Henry Akintobi, Ann Bonham, Jennifer Cook, and Tamera Coyne-Beasley. “Principles of Community Engagement (Second Edition).” Community Engagement, 2011, 197.

Mitchell, Tania D. “Using a Critical Service-Learning Approach to Facilitate Civic Identity Development.” Theory into Practice, 2015, 54:1, 20-28, DOI:  10.1080/00405841.2015.977657

“A guide to Indigenous land acknowledgment.” Native Governance Center, https://nativegov.org/a-guide-to-indigenous-land-acknowledgment/

Ross, Lainie Friedman, Allan Loup, Robert M. Nelson, Jeffrey R. Botkin, Rhonda Kost, George R. Smith, and Sarah Gehlert. “Human Subjects Protections in Community-Engaged Research: A Research Ethics Framework.” Journal of Empirical Research on Human Research Ethics 5, no. 1 (March 2010): 5–17. https://doi.org/10.1525/jer.2010.5.1.5.

Schuyler, Samantha. “The Community Engagement Racket: How universities stiff their neighbors and get even richer.” The Baffler (Nov. 2019). https://thebaffler.com/latest/the-community-engagement-racket-schuyler