I grew up in the Santa Monica Mountains, about 5 miles from the Pacific Ocean. We didn't have an ocean view, but if you walked to the end of the driveway, you could see it (as long as it wasn’t foggy). In elementary school, we took an annual fieldtrip to the Malibu Lagoon, where we’d learn about estuaries, and catalog the plant and animal life. One year, dozens of wide-eyed children with eager smiles streamed off the largest school bus I had ever seen. My teacher told us that these kids were invited to the Lagoon because even though they lived just an hour away, they had never seen the ocean. It was then that I realized just one aspect of what it means to have privilege. My parents were not rich; they made ends meet with coupons, clearance racks, and finding treasures on the side of the road, that were once someone’s trash. But I could see the ocean any day I wanted to (as long as it wasn’t foggy). Much of the issues of diversity in academia are like this. We go about our lives of teaching, research, and service, while others sit on the outside, through no fault of their own. While most agree that diversity and inclusion is essential for organizations like universities to thrive, higher education consistently fails in this regard. As a cis-gendered white woman, I recognize that I have benefited from privileges afforded to me, but I have also seen the effects of misogyny in the academy first hand. Those with privilege (myself include) need to do better; I pledge to do better. Like most projects in academia, this work is never complete, and feedback is always welcome, even if it is hard to hear.
Over the past several years, my awareness related to issues of diversity and inclusion has increased. I have taking advantage of various opportunities offered at PLU to learn about implicit bias and micro-aggressions, and spent time reflecting and thinking critically about ways I can be more inclusive in my classroom, on campus, and as an academic more broadly. These opportunities have provided helpful tools to better understand that when whiteness is ‘in the water’, it can be hard to see the impact of systemic racism, and how even if we mean well, our spaces may not be welcoming. I have increasingly implemented strategies for inclusive pedagogy, including flexibility in course assignments where possible, and creating a culture of compassion and care in my classes. I try to make my class a safe space, where students can feel comfortable to call me out on microaggressions, and to offer suggestions on how to make the class more inclusive. Students have taken me up on these offers, and while it can be hard to receive criticisms, it is the best way to improve. I have also become more aware of simple changes to course content that can increase inclusivity: using gender balanced names from a range of language backgrounds in examples (as opposed to just ‘John’ and ‘Sally’), and including diverse images in lecture slides. In addition, I have revised many of syllabi to assign more work from scholars of marginalized groups. I want students to learn that inclusive scholarship is better scholarship. For example, the text Fractured Minds (Ogden 2005) highlights the importance of cultural background in assessment and treatment of patients (e.g., cultural biases in intelligence testing can skew results if comparing to ‘typical’ populations). I have also asked students in my psychology courses to research major scholars in psychology, and include more scholars from minoritized groups, particularly those that may not make it into the psychology textbooks (or only find themselves in a ‘token’ section on diversity). One potentially easy way to uplift indigenous languages in language and linguistics courses at PLU is to include examples and problems sets that feature the languages of the people of the Pacific Northwest, such as Southern Lushootseed, in addition to a standard land acknowledgement. My goal is to integrate diversity and inclusion into the entire course, rather than as a footnote.
In Summer 2020, I participated in a faculty group on compassion. I met with three other colleagues over Zoom to discuss various readings related to the topic. To me, fostering diversity is about cultivating compassion within and among your students and colleagues. In my teaching, I have struggled to find a balance between rigor and compassion, and fairness and equity. It is easy to conflate harsh teaching policies with rigor, but I think it is possible to hold students to high standards, and still care for their wellbeing. Holding students to high standards tells students that you believe they are capable of high-quality work, and that you believe in their ability. Where possible, I allow for dropped assignments and assign smaller, lower stakes assignments to keep students on track. I also try to assess participation based on the individual’s personality and goals. Some students are very comfortable talking in class, and often dominate class discussions, while other students struggle to talk at all. I may give the dominant student full credit and high praise, just for listening, while the shy student gets credit for raising their hand. In order to help meet students’ diverse needs, I give students a brief survey on the first day of class asking about their background, related courses, what they are nervous about for the course, pronouns, and if there is anything that they want to share. Many students have provided helpful information, like caregiving responsibilities, or religious observations that help me to make adjustments in deadlines or participation policies early in the semester. I feel that students are more likely to succeed if they know that their professors are willing to work with them to be successful. Often when students have accommodations from the disability office, they note that the format of my course fits well for their needs, and no adjustments are needed. However, not all students have documented disabilities, and may need to work with me outside these parameters. I am generally open to most all accommodations (and always those required by the ADA), as long as they do not impede student learning, or infringe on other students’ ability to learn. If flexible policies mean that more students from minoritized backgrounds are successful, then it is worth a minor inconvenience on my part.
While a stereotype of small liberal arts colleges is that they mainly attract white students from wealthy families, PLU students do not fit this stereotype. In 2020, 41 percent of first-year students identified themselves as students of color and 34.9 percent identified as the first in their family to attend college. Thirty one percent of students are Pell eligible. I have seen these demographics shift during my time at PLU, and this has affected how I approach my teaching and my students. Students appear to be more precarious for variety of reasons. They have precarious financial situations, they struggle to manage their mental health, and their families and their jobs. With increased frequency, I see students struggling in courses not because the materials are too demanding, but because of outside stressors. I meet students with various degrees of percarity every semester, which is why it is so important for me to take an active approach to developing inclusive, trauma informed pedagogy.
I have also been working to develop approaches for increasing diversity and inclusion within cognitive science more broadly. I see one of my roles as faculty to provide resources for students to be successful. In my own research, I have made a conscious effort to uplift scholars with marginalized backgrounds, such as increased citations, invitations for paid speaking engagements, and nominations for awards. One barrier that many students from minoritized backgrounds have to pursuing advanced degrees is that they often come to university with limited time and resources. They are often working multiple jobs, caring for their families, and have long commutes. They often do not have the privilege of time- time to spend working in the lab, deep reading, or just reading for fun. This can be a barrier to success because excellent research takes time. Students may decide not to work towards graduate study, or choose an easier project, simply because their schedules are so packed that a time-consuming project is out of reach. To better support these students I would like to develop more paid research positions (when funding is successful), space in my lab and department to work, and cultivate a community for support and networking. I would like to help secure more funding for paid positions, as these positions can allow students to gain research experience but still earn needed income. Easing financial burdens for students who have interest and potential can go a long way to preparing undergraduate students for advanced studies. Another barrier that students face is that they are often, for personal, cultural, or financial reasons, cannot leave the area for an extended period of time. There are many great national summer programs, but most of these are outside of Washington state, and even if they are paid, the travel and other expenses associated with these programs make them out of reach for many. I would love to help develop and fund programs for promising students in the Washington area that could help prepare more students from diverse backgrounds for graduate study.