Most of the work that I do in my current position is with international students coming to study in the US, and one of the big challenges we will be tackling in the next year is preparing colleagues across campus to support growing numbers of students from abroad studying and living on our campus. That has made me reflect on my own travels and the cultural aspects of transition for international students.
On a recent recruitment trip to China, the hotel I stayed in while visiting Zhengzhou (pronounced “Jung-joe”) was right across the street from the school whose students we were presenting to and interviewing. On the gray morning I woke before our full day visit, I heard music outside my window, which faced the school. Outside on the large walk in front of the main school building, students in identical dress were stretching, bending, and reaching in unison. Standard calisthenics required of all students each morning. I only had a few minutes to watch before heading out myself, but this display made me think of the huge cultural shift students coming to study in the US must experience at colleges and universities. To go from morning workout to weekend partying?
It’s not something we always account for or are even aware of in higher education. We don’t think about the need to explain a system we inherently understand, but even if we academics do think about it, we focus on the classroom experience, perhaps the shift from face-to-face time toward homework done independently or the need to engage in class discussion rather than take notes and learn facts. However, our students—international and not—see us in a panorama, across disciplines, across divisions. To them, we are one silo and fundamentally un-siloed. In the case of international students coming from many places around the world, schools have often been one cohesive, integrated experience for them, and they bring that idea with them even more fully than our domestic students coming out of US high schools.
So, what do we do with that as teachers, administrators, and people who care about the future of higher education? First, we listen and we learn. Our students know where they come from and how things were for them in past schools, and we enhance our ability to support them in and out of class when we learn about their expectations, assumptions, and needs. Second, we explain. When we pull the curtain back on the parts of the machine that they need to understand the workings of, when we give words to the motives for the things we do, we are helping students see how the rules have changed, how their expectations need to change, and why they need to respond to the reality of their current context and not what they thought it was. The next time they need to decode part of US higher education, they will be better equipped. And isn’t that our shared ultimate goal?