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Normal Mornings

Health, Safety, and Well-being
April 19, 2016 Katie Treadwell University of Kansas

Katie L. Treadwell was recently interviewed by the Chronicle to discuss her recent research into the responders to intentionally violent acts on campus. We reached out to her and asked her to serve as a guest blogger for NASPA to further highlight the work that she's doing. You can also see a full article in an upcoming edition of the Journal of Student Affairs Research and Practice.

In an instant, the world around me shattered. I saw a large group of people running. Someone shouted, “there’s a gun…”

As a twenty-something millennial, I knew how this worked. I was a sixth-grader in Oklahoma City when the bombing occurred, a high school sophomore at the time of Columbine, a college freshman on September 11, and a graduate student studying student affairs when Virginia Tech forever changed the nature of higher education. Suddenly, I found myself in the very situation that was and further became my biggest fear.

I didn’t sleep for a year. I had the same dream every night, replaying some version of the events of that completely normal morning. The official campus communication described a false alarm, a miscommunication triggered by a well-intentioned student. Final reports of the incident described only one shot fired, an accidental discharge from a campus security officer. Student rumors challenged that report, believing that there was a gunman who was never apprehended. The institution used it as a necessary reminder to review safety protocol. Every day, we went through the fear-filled motions of teaching class and serving students, but our trauma was deeper than the outside world realized. Years later, I no longer fear standing in front of the classroom, but the possibility never goes away. No one thinks it will happen on their campus. But somewhere and someday, a day that starts like any other ends like no day ever should.

Five years after my own brush with campus terror, I wrote a dissertation on the leadership experiences of senior student affairs leaders who encountered high profile acts of intentional violence, citywide terrorism, unfortunate accidents, and natural disasters. My own story pales in comparison to their experiences. These leaders see themselves as protectors, first responders, and healers of the campus community. In the midst of their darkest days, they demonstrated incredible courage and resilience as they led students, faculty, staff, and the community through crisis. Nothing erases the influence of campus tragedy, but these leaders dedicated their lives to creating hope from horror – meaning from the chaos.

As student affairs leaders, we feel an enormous sense of duty to protect and care for our campus communities. Our job is to intellectually, socially, civically, and spiritually engage students in their developmental journeys. Preventing crises on campus is our responsibility, but tragedy could strike at any moment. Many student affairs leaders I spoke with explained a gut instinct to run toward a crisis situation while others ran away: “I think we’re used to being in a mode where we put out fires, if you will… We are the first responders in some ways on a college campus.” Another leader admitted that, “we joke sometimes as first responders that we get to be the ones that are radioactive first. It’s what we’ve chosen.” In times of crisis, standard campus operations become even more important, since both physical and emotional needs run high. Students need guidance on experiencing grief, as well as temporary housing and dining options. They struggle with unprecedented fear, but also a loss of textbooks, clothing, or other necessities. Seemingly meaningless details hold the key to helping our students feel cared for when their world crumbles.

In the wake of disaster, student affairs leaders’ ultimate desire to protect their campus created deeply entrenched feelings of guilt when they are unable to do so. When faced with extreme tragedy, student affairs leaders felt deep regret at their inability to protect students, even while knowing that they were not to blame. One leader recalled how, “there’s nothing you can do now to fix them… How do you make the situation better? Especially when they died engaged in a university event.” As leaders navigated the excruciating task of restoring the campus community, their personal guilt and inability to restore life created additional barriers to their own healing process. They understood the overwhelming responsibility of, “making sure you were holding yourself together so you could be strong for them.” Finding it nearly impossible to move forward, student affairs leaders recalled a tragedy that continued long after students graduated and carried with it a much more painful personal toll. Especially in the worst days, our job is to focus on our students, colleagues, and campus community, an obligation that both brings personal healing and prevents it.

As student affairs leaders, we believe in the transformative power of higher education and seek learning opportunities in every moment. We encounter the extreme opposite when we face tragedy on campus. Every morning that I walk across a beautiful campus, I’m grateful that this place exists for our students… and I am aware that it could change in an instant. The possibility may be nearly unbearable at times, but where else would we be when our students need us?