Pedagogy and Engagement

Edward Zlotkowski

In a 1994 essay entitled “Service on Campus,” Arthur Levine pointed out that “student volunteer movements tend to be a passing phenomenon in higher education, rising and falling on campuses roughly every 30 years” (p. 4). Are we now riding the crest of such a wave? Several factors suggest we are. Campus Compact, a national association of college and university presidents committed to fostering community service on their campuses, now numbers almost 600 members. New student initiatives such as “Alternative Spring Break” and “Into the Streets” draw thousands of undergraduate participants each year. The number of books, articles, and special issues focused on service-related topics has exploded. What does all this mean for “universities as citizens”?

The very cyclicality of this phenomenon may suggest “Not much!” However, unlike earlier waves of interest in service, the present wave has been characterized not only by a rise in student interest but also by a less visible but no less remarkable rise in faculty interest. Indeed, no less an observer than the late Ernest Boyer suggested something qualitatively different was taking place this time around.

The social imperative for service has become so urgent that the university cannot afford to ignore it. I must say that I am worried that right now the university is viewed as a private benefit, not a public good. Unless we recast the university as a publicly engaged institution I think our future is at stake. (1995, p. 138)

Hence, without denying the influence of cyclical patterns, we may do well to consider whether the current service phenomenon must not be understood as qualitatively different from its predecessors. For if, as Boyer suggests, service must now be viewed as an “urgent” “social imperative,” it is critically important that those responsible for leading our institutions of higher learning understand both its current configuration and its potential to help promote institutional citizenship.

Service-Learning Defined

If there is any single factor that distinguishes earlier surges of campus volunteerism from the current service movement, it is a phenomenon already alluded to; namely, the widespread participation not just of students but of faculty. Indeed, on many campuses curriculum-based service - “service-learning,” as it is most frequently referred to - rather than traditional cocurricular volunteerism represents the real “growth area” (Fisher, 1998, p. 218). The rest of this chapter will focus exclusively on this growth area, exploring not only what service-learning entails but also its potential for helping colleges and universities become more effective participants in civil society. After reviewing one recent definition of the concept, we will utilize a matrix, structured to reflect key elements of service-learning practice, to explore: (1) service-learning as a discipline-specific activity, (2) its use of reflection, (3) academic support structures, and (4) considerations that define academy-community partnerships. We will conclude with a glance at some of the larger educational and institutional needs service-learning helps to address.

One of the more frequently cited definitions of service-learning currently in circulation first appeared in a 1996 article by Bringle and Hatcher:

We view service learning as a credit-bearing educational experience in which students participate in an organized service activity that meets identified community needs and reflect on the service activity in such a way as to gain further understanding of the course content, a broader appreciation of the discipline, and an enhanced sense of civic responsibility. Unlike extracurricular voluntary service, service learning is a course-based service experience that produces the best outcomes when meaningful service activities are related to course material through reflection activities such as directed writings, small group discussions, and class presentations. Unlike practica and internships, the experiential activity in a service learning course is not necessarily skill-based within the context of professional education. (p. 222)

The value of this formulation lies not only in its specification of key service-learning features but also in its differentiation between service-learning and both volunteerism and traditional practica/internships. A clear awareness of these distinctions is essential if one is to understand service-learning’s potential to shape the academic-civic dialogue.

The first feature Bringle and Hatcher identify is that service-learning is a credit-bearing experience; i.e., a part of the academic curriculum. Not all would agree this is essential. In Service-Learning in Higher Education (1996), Barbara Jacoby and Associates work with an approach that includes both curricular and cocurricular practice. However, even those who embrace this broader definition would agree that faculty support and participation make achieving the “learning” dimension of service-learning much more likely. Recognition of the faculty role in sustaining campus-based service first became widespread in the early 1990s, thanks largely to a report (1990) prepared for Campus Compact by Tim Stanton, then associate director of the Haas Center at Stanford University. In his report Stanton noted that, up until then, “[l]ittle attention [had] been given to the faculty role in supporting student service efforts and in setting an example of civic participation and leadership through their own efforts” (p. 1). This neglect would have to be corrected if campus-based service were to reach its full potential.

As a result of Stanton’s report, Campus Compact, with Ford Foundation backing, launched a multi-year initiative aimed at “Integrating Service with Academic Study.” This initiative has helped shift the primary focus of service-learning from student to faculty affairs. Currently, almost all service-learning programs that seek to have a significant institutional as well as community impact also seek to promote faculty involvement and to establish a reliable curricular base.

A second service-learning feature found in the Bringle-Hatcher definition lies encoded in its phrase “identified community needs.” “Encoded” is appropriate because both “identified needs” and “community” need to be glossed. One of the most significant ways in which service-learning differs from many other community-related campus-based initiatives lies in its insistence that the needs to be met must be defined by the community, not the campus. In other words, service-learning deliberately seeks to reverse the long-established academic practice of using the community for the academy’s own ends. This, of course, does not mean the academy is expected simply to do the community’s bidding. The watchword here is reciprocity: there must be an agreed upon balance of benefits and responsibilities on both sides (see following section on partnerships).

Such a call for reciprocity has far more serious consequences than may at first be apparent. For one, it significantly qualifies the academy’s traditional claim to preeminence by virtue of its expertise. In a service-learning context, the concept of “expertise” encompasses more than theoretical understanding and technical skill; it also includes the in-depth knowledge that comes from having lived with a problem or set of circumstances over an extended period of time. Thus, the community lays claim to its own kind of expertise - an expertise the academy is bound to acknowledge and respect.

Second, reciprocity implies that all processes and roles are functionally interchangeable. It is no more accurate to identify the academy as “serving” and the community as “being served” than vice versa. If the community benefits and learns from the academy, it is no less true that the academy benefits and learns from the community. If the academy gives the community access to new technical and human resources, the community gives the academy access to new educational opportunities. It is commonplace among service-learning practitioners - student and faculty alike - to realize, once a project has been completed and evaluated, that those on campus have gotten back far more than they have given.

If, then, service-learning implies that the needs around which projects are organized are to be identified by community partners who are regarded as the academy’s equals, the next question must be: what does service-learning understand by the word “community”? Here again, as in the case of “credit-bearing,” what prevails is more a tendency than a consensus. While “community” might well refer to the off-campus community in general or even the on-campus community, the “community service” roots of service-learning - still evident in the formulation “community service learning” - point towards a less inclusive understanding. For the most part, the community referred to primarily consists of (1) off-campus populations under-served by our market economy and (2) organizations whose primary purpose is the common good. To be sure, at institutions where many students come from under-served populations, service activities often include on-campus as well as off-campus activities. However, few programs provide assistance to for-profit enterprises - except in cases where those enterprises themselves can be regarded as serving more than proprietary interests.

How one understands community is closely related to a third key feature of the Bringle-Hatcher definition; namely, service-learning is an experience that includes reflection “on the service activity in such a way as to gain further understanding of the course content, a broader appreciation of the discipline, and an enhanced sense of civic responsibility.” Indeed, service-learning practitioners tend to place special emphasis on reflection as the key to making service yield real learning. To be sure, conscientious experiential educators of all kinds have long recognized the importance of reflection as a complement to experience. What is distinctive about reflection in a service-learning context is its multi-layered quality: what students reflect on results not just in greater technical mastery (“course content”) but also in an expanded appreciation of the contextual/social significance of the discipline in question and, most broadly of all, in “an enhanced sense of civic responsibility.” Thus, students in a chemistry course may be asked to connect testing for lead in housing projects with what they have learned both in class and in the laboratory while also processing their personal reactions to conditions in the projects and their evolving sense of children’s rights to a safe environment.

Such a multi-layered understanding of reflection is critical to any attempt to differentiate service-learning not just from curriculum-based pre-professional field experiences such as internships and practica but also from volunteerism of the kind traditionally associated with student organizations. To the degree that a given service activity is deliberately tied to structured learning objectives, to that degree it can be seen as approaching the functional core of service-learning - whether or not it is formally sponsored by a course. However, the very significance of this demand that structured, in-depth reflection complement the service experience is what argues most convincingly for service-learning as a course-based undertaking. Absent such a credit-bearing framework, it is difficult to harvest the learning “service-learning” implies. And without that harvesting, its potential to link private advantage and public good, to facilitate civic as well as more technical kinds of understanding, cannot be realized.

A Service-Learning Matrix

I have proposed elsewhere (Zlotkowski, 1998b) that one especially useful way to capture the complexity and richness of service-learning is to conceive of it as a matrix (figure 1). What such

a conceptualization suggests is that service-learning can best be seen as a field where two complementary axes intersect: a horizontal axis spanning academic expertise and a concern for the common good, and a vertical axis that links the traditional domain of the student - i.e., classroom activities - with that of those who teach and mentor him/her - i.e., the world beyond the classroom. Through such a utilization of

Figure 1. SERVICE LEARNING CONCEPTUAL MATRIX

student focus

PEDAGOGICAL STRATEGIES REFLECTION STRATEGIES

expertise focus SERVICE-LEARNING common good focus

ACADEMIC CULTURE [C] COMMUNITY PARTNERS [D]

sponsor focus

multiple learning sites, it also links situations where student needs dominate (i.e., the academic course) with situations where student needs are subordinate to other concerns (i.e., the delivery of social services and other kinds of practical assistance). In this way, service-learning links the kind of work characteristic of the classroom - hypothetical, deductive, reflective - with the kind of work most typical outside it - concrete, inductive, results-driven. Or, to appropriate Donald Schon’s memorable image, it connects “the high ground [where] manageable problems lend themselves to solution through the use of research-based theory and technique” with “the swampy lowlands [where] problems are messy and confusing and incapable of technical solution” (1995, p. 28). Although the point where the two axes intersect will necessarily differ from one service-learning situation to the next, as either academic or civic learning, classroom or field experience is more or less emphasized, all four poles are always to some degree represented.

By encompassing this constellation of interests and activities, service-learning both complicates and liberates educational practice. No longer can the teaching mission of colleges and universities - as ratified by and articulated in the curriculum - be adequately described in terms of professional and self-contained academic practice. The kind of learning faculty facilitate must now include a broader public dimension. The circle of stakeholders directly involved in the academic enterprise must be expanded to include members of the off-campus community.

Such imperatives are enough to explain why service-learning possesses such enormous potential to move higher education in the direction of civic involvement. It also explains why colleges and universities often find it easier to frame their civic responsibilities in other ways; e.g., in terms of extension services, selectively shared resources, special programs, even purchasing and employment practices. So long as the classroom door can literally and figuratively remain shut, institutions can “accommodate” a considerable measure of citizenship with little or no challenge to their traditional structures and self-understanding. Service-learning makes business as usual more difficult.

Boyer himself did not shrink from the consequences of such a challenge. It is fashionable nowadays to cite with approval his vision of a “New American College” (1994). However, if Dale Coye (1997), a longtime Boyer associate, is correct in asserting that “the New American college was the natural outcome of Boyer’s work, the point for him at which all roads met,” it behooves us to invoke that vision with special care and attention. For although Boyer does not explicitly refer to service-learning in his sketch of such an institution, the kinds of activities and arrangements he recommends leave little doubt as to service-learning’s central role in it:

This New American College would organize cross-disciplinary institutes around pressing social issues. Undergraduates at the college would participate in field projects, relating ideas to real life. Classrooms and laboratories would be extended to include health clinics, youth centers, schools, and government offices. Faculty members would build partners with practitioners who would, in turn, come to campus as lecturers and student advisers.

The New American College, as a connected institution, would be committed to improving, in a very intentional way, the human condition. As clusters of such colleges formed, a new model of excellence in higher education would emerge, one that would enrich the campus, renew communities, and give new dignity and status to the scholarship of service.

Through its institutes and field projects, the new American College can be said to connect different kinds of discipline-specific knowledge and to connect that knowledge to an overt commitment to the common good. By extending the concepts of the classroom and the laboratory to include “health clinics, youth centers, schools, and government offices,” it not only links traditional on-campus learning to experiences in the world beyond the campus, but also re-conceptualizes what is appropriate to its curriculum and the ways in which that curriculum should be delivered.

The Four Quadrants of Service-Learning Practice

One way to begin unpacking some of the more systemic implications both of Boyer’s model and of service-learning in general is to explore the four fields of the matrix just introduced. Each quadrant can be said to define a different area of faculty and/or institutional development: A: design and implementation of course-specific pedagogical strategies; B: facilitation of course-appropriate reflection strategies; C: reform of academic culture to recognize community-related professional activities; D: creation of community partnerships based on long-term interdependency. Much of the remainder of this essay will explore each of these areas in turn.

A: Pedagogical Strategies.

No changes in instructional practice are likely to have greater significance than a shift in basic faculty function from information delivery to learning environment design (Guskin, 1994). As Lee Schulman, director of the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, recently remarked (September 1997), working on a “pedagogy of substance” means “assisting teachers to focus on the design aspects of teaching” [original emphasis] (p. 6). With regard to service-learning, such a focus is essential if the service-related learning process is to have any chance of success. Faculty who practice service-learning must begin doing now what Shulman, Guskin, and others see as fundamental to the future of instruction in general.

To many only vaguely familiar with service-learning (including some who claim to practice it), adoption of a service-learning pedagogy implies little more than telling students to work at a community site and write a paper on their experiences. The service activity is generic; the learning - whatever learning there is - is also generic. The entire exercise is justified by the idea that students should be exposed to social problems and encouraged “to give something back.”

Indeed, even when such an exercise results in substantive service, it still may not recommend itself as service-learning. As Benjamin Barber (1997) notes with regard to the propriety of mandatory service assignments,

If service-learning is about voluntary service, it does not belong in the curriculum, should not be mandatory, and, indeed, when it is mandatory may violate the Constitution. If service-learning is about learning, however, then it needs to be directly folded into curricula, it can be made mandatory just as English or biology can be made mandatory (for pedagogical, not social welfare reasons), and it no more violates the Constitution than does a requirement for freshman math or swimming. (228)

If, then, academic justification of service-learning lies primarily in its educational value, faculty are under considerable responsibility to understand how they can most effectively tap that value - and institutions are under equal responsibility to provide the kinds of support faculty need in order to be able to do so. Two kinds of support are here at issue, though only the first of these will be discussed in the present section. (See D: Community Partners for the other.)

As might be expected, service-learning has received an uneven welcome across the disciplinary spectrum. This is explained, most often, as a matter of natural disciplinary “fit,” but willingness to acknowledge fit is itself reflective of differences in disciplinary cultures. Up until recently, service-learning in higher education has been championed primarily by faculty from certain liberal arts disciplines (e.g., sociology, psychology, communication, composition, and political science.) As I have noted elsewhere (Rama & Zlotkowski, 1996), the interest these faculty have shown has helped reinforce the impression that service-learning is best suited to meeting their needs. And yet, if we look at a document like Porter and McKibbin’s Management Education and Development: Drift or Thrust into the 21^st Century? (commissioned by the American Assembly of Collegiate Schools of Business), it becomes immediately clear that service-learning could equally well serve many of the most important self-identified goals of the business disciplines (Zlotkowski, 1996). A similar argument can be made for the natural sciences.

Thus, to meet adequately the demands of quadrant A, what is needed is a comprehensive faculty development effort to help those working in disciplinary areas across the academic spectrum to both understand and appropriate service-learning on their own terms (Zlotkowski, 1995 & January/February 1996). It was, in fact, to help faculty do precisely this, to help them “customize service-learning so it supports learning...without sacrificing academic rigor” that the American Association for Higher Education has supported a new series on service learning in the disciplines (AAHE’s Series on Service-Learning in the Disciplines, n.d.).

What, then, does such discipline-specific design entail? As a growing database of course models attests, it involves at least three kinds of carefully considered choices: (1) the rationale behind and purpose of the service activity to be introduced; (2) the kind of service most appropriate to the goals of the course, the level of student expertise available, and the needs of the community partner; and (3) the course format most appropriate for the kind of learning and the kind of service aimed at. Each of these topics challenges the service-learning instructor (in consultation with his/her community partner) to bring to course design a degree of deliberateness many more traditional instructional strategies regularly do without.

Rational and Purpose. The educational logic that leads a faculty member to employ service-learning may differ widely from discipline to discipline and from course to course, despite the fact that some rationales are more or less universally applicable. Thus, for example, the frequently invoked value of linking practice to theory can take a variety of forms. In a public relations course, it may mean a more or less straightforward application of concepts and practices discussed in class to the needs of nonprofits serving the off-campus community. In a sociology course, straightforward application may yield to implicit critique whereby students are expected to experience not the utility but the inadequacies of a textbook formulation. In an environmental chemistry course, application may yield not to critique but to field research whereby students are expected to add to the community’s understanding of a local problem.

Still another kind of educational logic diverges from the theory-practice model altogether. Through service-learning, students may be challenged to develop more fully their moral imaginations. Courses in literature, ethics, and religious studies often fall into this category. When, several years ago, I was asked to teach a course on Shakespeare’s tragedies, my students spent part of the semester working at a shelter for homeless men. This assignment occurred in conjunction with our discussion of King Lear, and its primary educational purpose was to help the students more successfully appropriate the play’s exploration of human blindness and spiritual renewal.

Such an exploration would undoubtedly be irrelevant in the context of a pre-calculus course, but a student’s ability to demonstrate his/her grasp of basic mathematical concepts and procedures would not be. As Lee Schulman (1997) once acknowledged: “Indeed, I wouldn’t claim that I’d ‘learned’ something until I had successfully explained or discussed it with someone else, and seen what they did with what it is I think I know...” (p. 4). Thinking like this underlies the many service projects that involve students in “stepping down” something they are studying on the college level to the needs of students on lower educational levels. Verbal, cultural, scientific, and financial literacy initiatives all fall into this category.

Still other educational rationales could be adduced, but by now the underlying point should be clear: service activities must always be grounded in a deliberate, carefully articulated understanding of how such activities advance the specific learning goals of the course in which they are embedded. Students can hardly be expected to do quality community-based work if they are not convinced such work has academic integrity. Nor can they do such work if their instructor has not carefully considered the nature of the service they can be appropriately be expected to provide.

Kind of Service. Academics are not the only ones who frequently confuse service-learning with traditional volunteer work situated in an academic setting. Those who manage community agencies and public institutions often make the same mistake. When they do, the care faculty have taken to clarify the educational rationale behind their service assignments can easily come to naught: instead of creating the donor database a computer science instructor envisioned, students are busy stacking boxes or standing at a copy machine. Such mis-assignments represent more than a frustration of educational design, they also represent a loss of opportunity for the community partner, replacing technical expertise with unskilled busy-ness.

Indeed, for many faculty, perhaps the single greatest obstacle to sponsoring community-related work is a tendency to see its possibilities solely in terms of some kind of generic busy-ness. This is especially true at research-oriented universities and highly selective liberal arts colleges. There is, however, no reason why the special strengths and interests of faculty at institutions like these cannot be utilized to create valuable community projects. Courses in research methodology, capstone seminars requiring the production of original work, and courses sufficiently advanced to permit policy analysis and recommendations are at least as suitable for service-learning initiatives as courses that lend themselves to direct kinds of assistance. Undergraduate research and participatory action research represent two other established areas of pedagogical practice whose methods and aims lend themselves effortlessly to service-learning.

To be sure, not all service assignments need be of a technical nature - on any level. An introductory philosophy course exploring the concept of justice may require - and be able to provide - no more than generic assistance to an agency working with the homeless. In this case, all that will distinguish service-learning from traditional volunteerism is the educational framework within which the service experience is set; i.e., the kinds of questions and exercises the instructor provides to help students link their experience to readings and class discussions. In short, whether the service in question is generic or technical, is geared to assist individuals or clarify policy, takes place primarily off or on campus, it is up to the instructor - in conjunction with his/her community partner - to decide. The only constants here are that the activities be designed to meet real needs as well as real educational objectives and that the students be capable of performing the tasks required.

Course Format. If the nature of available student expertise helps determine what kinds of service tasks are appropriate, so also does the instructor’s decision as to how those tasks will be weighed in relation to other class assignments. Will the service component be mandatory or optional? Will it involve a significant or relatively minor time commitment? Will it define or complement core course objectives? Again, there is no single correct answer to any of these questions (Enos and Troppe, 1996). While some service-learning practitioners warn against the dangers of including service assignments only as a structural “add-on,” others stress the importance of being sensitive to students’ personal circumstances and the dangers of sending unwilling, even resentful students into the community. Service as a “fourth-credit option” represents an excellent case in point. Some instructors view this arrangement (which allows students to earn four rather than three credits if they complete a set of field-based activities as well as all of a course’s regular requirements) as a useful way of making service-learning available across the curriculum while others see it as reducing service to an afterthought, a signal to students that the work that really matters still lies in the traditional classroom.

But regardless of the individual choices faculty make with regard to educational rationale, kind of service, and course format, service-learning requires instructors - no less than their students - to become “reflective practitioners” (Schon, 1983, 1987). Since, moreover, few faculty have been trained to teach in this way, it also requires of sponsoring institutions a serious commitment to faculty development.

B: Reflection Strategies.

Up until now, most of what has been said could apply not only to service-learning but also to other, more traditional forms of experiential education. Granted, service-learning occurs not just in special academic units such as “practica and internships” but also in standard classroom-based courses; granted, it stresses the importance of reciprocity, of fully taking into account the needs and goals of non-academic partners, nevertheless, such features could be regarded as differences in degree rather than in kind. Quadrant B, however, fundamentally distinguishes service-learning from other forms of experiential education. For as Bringle and Hatcher note, “Unlike practica and internships, the experiential activity in a service-learning course is not necessarily skill-based within the context of professional education.” In other words, the purpose of service-learning assignments is not just to improve the technical, discipline-specific effectiveness of student learning. It is also “to gain...a broader appreciation of the discipline, and an enhanced sense of civic responsibility.” In this regard, service-learning shifts attention away from an exclusive preoccupation with education as private gain and seeks to balance that concern with a focus on the common good.

Such a balance clearly pivots on the concept of reflection. As Eyler, Giles, and Schmiede point out in their Practitioner’s Guide to Reflection in Service-Learning (1996), no less an advocate of experiential education than John Dewey insisted that “reflective thinking was the key to making experience educative” [original emphasis] (p. 15). Regardless of the care and skill with which a faculty member designs the service activities in a course, that design cannot fully achieve its ends unless similar care and skill are expended on designing exercises that allow students to turn those activities into conscious learning.

But because service-learning goals are not limited to course- and discipline-specific expertise, reflection in a service-learning context must facilitate a wider range of educational outcomes than it must elsewhere. Besides providing the mechanism that links theory to practice in the technical sphere (i.e., Bringle and Hatcher’s “course content”), it must also help students locate that technical sphere in a broader field of concerns. It is to this latter task that Barber (1997) refers when he notes that

[helping] create contributing, responsible citizens...is a task schools and colleges can be expected to undertake, for it reflects nothing more than a recognition of and recommitment to the traditional ideal of education as preparation of young people for civic life in a free society. (228)

And yet, as traditional as such a task may be, it may also pose even more of a challenge than the task of designing course-specific service assignments. For while some faculty may object to experiential assignments as unacceptably “vocational,” even more will object to the task of creating citizens as by and large “irrelevant” - i.e., not irrelevant in general but irrelevant to the specific courses they teach. Like character education, faculty tend to see citizenship and democracy skills as matters of personal rather than academic development, and as such, the province of student, not faculty affairs.

For this reason reflection, like service activities, must be approached with considerable sensitivity to course-specific content. For if, as Schon (1995) and others have suggested, reflection is the natural process by means of which experience yields real discipline-specific understanding, so also it must be allowed to work as naturally as possible in making that experience yield other, broader kinds of understanding. In other words, while the concept of “citizenship” may be as appropriate in an accounting class as in a political science class, the way in which it is introduced, developed, made a natural part of the course’s concerns will necessarily differ. Indeed, even the vocabulary disciplinary cultures utilize to articulate their sense of public obligation and “public work” (Boyt & Farr, 1997) will show considerable variation.

I clearly remember the time I approached the steering committee of the Massachusetts Support Center, Accounting Assistance Project, to discuss the possibility of project members becoming involved in my college’s service-learning program. Although I had prepared myself to “make the case” for such participation, I found myself instead on the receiving end of a mini-lecture on the importance of modeling professional responsibility for future accountants. I also remember a visit to the American Chemical Society in which I conceded the special difficulties chemistry instructors faced in engaging first-year students in socially relevant projects. In response, ACS staff members passed me a stack of publications explaining how to do precisely that!

There is, in short, within all disciplinary cultures ample opportunity to explore questions of civic participation, social responsibility, and personal priorities in ways that naturally complement rather than contradict more specific, technical concerns. Take, for example, the Accounting Education Change Commission's monograph Intentional Learning: A Process for Learning to Learn in the Accounting Curriculum (1995) - a publication that nowhere explicitly mentions service-learning. Here one finds, in a "Composite Profile of Capabilities Needed by Accounting Graduates," such non-technical, citizenship-related items as "awareness of personal and social values"; "ability to interact with culturally and intellectually diverse people"; and "knowledge of the activities of business, government, and nonprofit organizations, and of the environments in which they operate." To require, as service-learning does, that higher education reestablish a vital connection between issues of disciplinary expertise and issues of broad, public concern need not mean decontextualized “relevance.” It will, however, require institutional leadership to help faculty recognize this fact.

C: Academic Culture.

It is at this point that most discussions of service-learning end. If we were to return to the Bringle-Hatcher definition in its entirety, we would find that we have by now addressed all of its concerns. Why, then, should the service-learning matrix posit four rather than two quadrants? The answer lies in the fact that service-learning is not simply a course-based undertaking with implications for (a) the way in which faculty teach and (b) the kinds of faculty development opportunities they need to succeed in their teaching. It is also, perforce, a larger departmental and institutional undertaking, and its implications for these two units are every bit as challenging as are its implications for individual faculty members.

For the most part, the kinds of departmental and institutional issues service-learning raises can also be found in other academic contexts. In his influential paper “Making a Place for the New American Scholar” (1996), Gene Rice has identified what he refers to as the “assumptive world of the academic professional”; i.e., the “complex of basic assumptions” that have come to dominate and structure the work of faculty. These include a privileging of research above all other forms of scholarly activity, a privileging of pure research above applications, a privileging of specialization above connections and context, and a privileging of the internal values and priorities of the academy above the needs and concerns of non-members (p. 8 ff.). It is these assumptions that have shaped the professional socialization of “the large number of older senior faculty who now head departments and influence tenure and promotion decisions.” However, even as this assumptive world continues to shape the academy in its image, “institutional developments [have] pulled in another.” Primary among these developments is the pressure to pay far more serious attention to undergraduate education and the needs of the larger community.

As we moved into the 1990s...[the] priorities that had been central to the assumptive world

of the academic professional began to be not necessarily challenged and rejected but added to. The junior faculty interviewed for the “Heeding New Voices” inquiry report that, in one sense, it is a new day on campus....Extensive peer review of one’s publications continues to be what is valued most; but in addition to thorough student evaluation, one’s teaching also has to be peer reviewed in multiple ways. While new faculty are, on the local level, being encouraged to engage in the very gratifying work of curricular development and reaching out to the broader community through newly initiated service-learning programs, they are being told that their more cosmopolitan responsibilities to professional associations and their guild colleagues are to be their first priority.

Some of the best new faculty are being attracted to a new set of priorities focused on the essential missions of our institutions. On the other hand, the old priorities - the assumptive world of the academic professional - remain intact. (p. 10)

It is interesting that Rice should here explicitly refer to service-learning, for few initiatives that characterize the emerging paradigm so vividly concretize its implications for the departments and institutions where future faculty will work. In this regard, service-learning can be viewed as a kind of litmus test: departments and institutions that have fully recognized its significance and have provided for its operations have not only made a strong commitment to undergraduate education and civic outreach, they have also indicated a willingness to begin exploring the necessity of structural readjustments. Such readjustments will necessitate dealing with at least some of the following cutting-edge concerns.

Reintegration of Faculty Roles. One of the questions that most frequently surfaces at institutions where a significant number of faculty have embraced service-learning is how one can best capture this work in annual reports and faculty profiles. An historian who has developed an upper-level seminar around community-based research is certainly not involved in faculty service in the traditional sense. Hence, despite the “service” profile of the project, it should perhaps more properly be placed in the category of “pedagogical innovations” - unless, of course, it reflects the faculty member’s own scholarly interests, adds to her work, and winds up being published in some form. In that case, it can also be entered under “research” or “scholarship” or “professional activity” - or whatever other suitable category happens to be available.

There are, in other words, few academic undertakings that so effectively point up both the incoherence and the inefficiency of the traditional tripartite division of faculty responsibilities. In an era of shifting expectations, such incoherence can have especially serious consequences. As John Votruba, former Vice Provost for Outreach at Michigan State University, has noted (1996):

Traditionally, we have treated the academic trilogy of teaching, research, and service as if they were separate and conceptually distinct forms of professional activity. In times of limited resources, it is assumed that any attempt to strengthen one part of the trilogy must be done at the expense of the others. If outreach is to become a primary and fully integrated dimension of the overall academic mission, this "zero sum" mentality must be overcome. (p. 30)

If colleges and universities are to reemerge as active citizens, they simply cannot afford to sustain this

kind of inefficiency. By encouraging faculty to develop projects that make their work simultaneously

productive in all three of the traditional categories, service-learning helps both individuals and institutions

do more with the resources available to them.

Reassessing Assessment and Recognition. In discussing the implications of quadrant A (course-specific service activities), we noted that service-learning challenges faculty to be much more deliberate in their course design and pedagogical strategies. One of the most important areas where this heightened deliberateness must manifest itself is in matters of assessment - in developing measures of student performance more adequate to the complex, real-world dimensions of student work. The same can also be said for departments and institutions with regard to faculty work. Over and beyond the task of conceptualizing and capturing the multi-dimensionality of such work, there remains the task of judging its merits and rewarding it appropriately.

Here, of course, we go back directly to the issues raised by Boyer in Scholarship Reconsidered (1990). If the scholarships of integration, application, and teaching are to be regarded as genuinely complementary to the scholarship of discovery (i.e., traditional research), we must have to find ways to assess and reward them with comparable confidence. As a pedagogy of process, closely allied to both the scholarship of teaching and the scholarship of application, service-learning is concerned with “not only transmitting knowledge, but transforming and extending it as well” [original emphasis] (p. 24). In embracing activities where “theory and practice vitally interact,” it allows “[n]ew intellectual understandings [to] arise out of the very act of application” (p. 23).

Thus, service-learning has a vested interest in undertakings such as the American Association for Higher Education’s Peer Review of Teaching project and the New England Resource Center for Higher Education’s Program on Faculty Professional Service and Academic Outreach. Departments and institutions that regard teaching as public work and/or that recognize the distinctive nature of outreach activities “based on [a] faculty member’s professional expertise” (NERCHE, n.d.) can in the long run more effectively support service-learning than can those that profess progressive values but remain formally defined by traditional academic procedures and expectations.

Validating New Curricular Collaborations. Throughout this chapter, special attention has been paid to the important role played by course- and discipline-specific thinking in developing effective service-learning initiatives. To some, such an emphasis on traditional, for the most part discipline-based courses may seem anachronistic, especially in the context of a progressive pedagogy such as service-learning. Are we not constantly reminded, every time we step outside the academy, that our traditional discipline-based distinctions are indeed “academic” - in the narrowest sense of the word? Does not the future belong to interdisciplinary studies and problem-organized learning?

Such a charge should not be taken lightly. If academic specialization is largely responsible for the many “disconnects” that characterize our current system (Smith, 1990; Wilshire, 1990), should not service-learning unambiguously align itself with programs that reject such specialization? In my opinion, such a move would be counter-productive. Whatever the liabilities of current discipline-based academic culture, that culture remains, in fact, the basis of most faculty members’ professional identities. As such, it underlies both their sense of competence and the meaning of their work. For service-learning to challenge these fundamentals - in addition to all the other givens it must challenge - would doom it to academic marginality for the foreseeable future.

However, service-learning does indirectly challenge the trend toward ever greater specialization within the disciplines. By anchoring itself in real-world projects, it naturally serves to pull participating faculty members in the direction of functional and conceptual integration. Indeed, over and beyond such integration, it promotes new opportunities for dialogue among disciplinary participants. Enhanced collegiality and communication are almost always a “side benefit” of developed service-learning programs.

Such collegiality and communication are not, of course, without practical consequences. Rarely have I facilitated a service-learning workshop for faculty at the same institution without at least two participants from different disciplinary backgrounds “finding” each other for the first time; i.e., discovering that they share issue-, problem-, or site-based interests. Such discoveries sometimes lead, right on the spot, to concrete plans for curricular collaboration - from the use of students in one course to serve as consultants to students in another, to the creation of learning communities organized around a single service initiative.

D: Community Partners.

The final quadrant of the service-learning matrix directly addresses issues arising from the creation of academy-community partnerships. From a service-learning perspective, the word “partnership” immediately demands definition. On the one hand, it may mean little more than those work sites or tasks identified by service agencies or community groups as appropriate for course-based student involvement. Such a concept of partnership differs little from the “volunteer opportunity” lists maintained by many student-led organizations. To be sure, utilization of such opportunities in a service-learning context demands that they be further defined (e.g., the service activity be carefully matched with academic needs, the community sponsor be fully consulted as to priorities and goals). Nonetheless, these are adjustments that do not fundamentally challenge the notion of a casual, task-specific relationship.

On the other hand, “partnership” may also point to relationships that call for significant investments of time and effort on both sides, relationships designed to continue far beyond the achievement of specific tasks. Keith Morton (1995), Associate Director of the Feinstein Institute for Public Service at Providence College, has described his institute’s “four or five...core partner[ships]” as involving

commitments [that] have taken the form of doing strategic planning together, intentionally developing interdependent agendas; supporting the work of the partner by actively developing other campus-based resources; and...down the road [possibly]...swapping or sharing (formally or informally) staff. (p. 30)

Such partnerships lie at the core of this fourth quadrant, for it is only here that the full potential of service-learning as a strategy of academic citizenship can manifest itself. Service-learning placements - like extension programs, faculty professional expertise, utilization of campus resources for community and civic purposes - clearly serve an important function, and go a long way towards strengthening academy-community ties. However, it is only through full service-learning partnerships that the academy and the community come together as equals for the purpose of better fulfilling their core missions. Only through the kinds of long-term interdependencies Morton describes is the community invited to become centrally involved in higher education’s obligation to generate and communicate knowledge - even as higher education is invited to become centrally involved in the community’s obligation to meet essential human needs.

Interdependency of this sort is necessarily transformative. It transforms academic engagement from a responsible action to a moral obligation. It transforms institutional citizenship from the concern of a designated office to the business of the campus as a whole. It is unsettling, subversive, shifting the very foundations of academic work from self-definition to joint purpose. It affects the way students learn, what they learn, and how they are assessed; it affects the way faculty teach, how they frame their research, and why they are recognized; it affects the agendas administrators set and the way in which they allocate resources.

One allocation is of special importance, for on it the work not only of this fourth quadrant but also that of the other three largely depends. Just as faculty cannot be expected to undertake the challenge of service-learning course design and implementation without adequate recognition and academic support, so even the availability of such recognition and support may accomplish little unless faculty also have available to them structures that facilitate the establishment and maintenance of community partnerships. Currently there exists a variety of models institutions can look to in developing structures of their own, but some functions and features cut across most arrangements (Troppe, 1996; Zlotkowski, 1998a). Thus, for example, most support structures assist faculty in identifying suitable partners and projects, facilitate student transportation to and from community sites, and monitor student participation as well as stakeholder satisfaction. Institutions like Brevard Community College have developed an elaborate, efficient, and inclusive protocol to help faculty, students, and community partners navigate all aspects of that institution’s service-learning effort.

As for the personnel needed to provide such support, successful programs almost always require the leadership of a professional staff person - someone familiar both with the local community and with an institution’s faculty. Such a person must be able to work with off-campus groups in a knowledgeable, respectful way and yet also feel at home in the culture of higher education. “Bilingualism” of this sort is essential if the mutuality that must characterize service-learning partnerships is to be cultivated and maintained.

Clearly, however, the presence of a single professional staff person - no matter how competent, and energetic - is insufficient to meet all the logistical needs attendant upon a comprehensive service-learning program. How, then, to meet those needs becomes one of the most important questions facing any institution seeking to develop such a program. Fortunately, this problem can turn out into a blessing in disguise.

Colleges and universities seeking to develop service-learning sometimes encounter opposition from an unlikely quarter: students already involved in cocurricular community service. This opposition often stems from a fear that, if service-learning is successfully developed, student efforts will be preempted by faculty-led activities. In point of fact, such a concern is groundless. In the first place, the kinds of needs - academic and social - service-learning seeks to meet are often quite different from the needs addressed by traditional volunteer programs. Just as service-learning complements rather than replaces traditional internships, so it should also be seen as complementing rather than replacing other kinds of service and outreach. Secondly, students have an important - perhaps critical - role to play in the successful functioning of service-learning programs.

That there can be a powerful relationship between service and leadership development has been demonstrated in a variety of contexts. Robert Greenleaf’s concept of “servant leadership” (1977) and the Astins’ A Social Change Model of Leadership Development (1996) represent only two especially relevant contributions to our understanding of this relationship. What the work of people like Greenleaf and the Astins makes available to the service-learning community is a solid theoretical/practical foundation for developing positions, functions, and arrangements that facilitate the service-learning work of faculty even as they provide students with opportunities to develop special service-related skills of their own. Thus, for example, at the University of Utah’s Bennion Center, “[m]any student leaders of... cocurricular projects”

serve as teaching assistants for new service-learning courses. These undergraduate students essentially share with their faculty colleagues what they have learned through directing their own cocurricular projects. (Fisher, 1998, p. 225)

At Providence College’s Feinstein Institute,

Students have played a pivotal role in planning the new program and managing its activities. This has also been a conscious strategy, necessitated by both [a] commitment to democratic community and the fact that, as an academic program, the tendency for faculty to control the curriculum has had to be balanced by a strong student presence and voice. (Battistoni, 1998, p. 183)

The Community Scholars program at Bentley College, the Student Ambassadors program at Miami-Dade Community College, the Public and Community Service Scholars program at Augsburg College - despite many specific differences, all represent efforts to utilize and develop student leadership potential by making students structurally significant players.

Collateral Benefits

In exploring the four quadrants of service-learning practice, we have either explicitly or implicitly touched upon many of the ways in which this approach enhances both faculty effectiveness and student learning. If, moreover, Barr and Tagg (1996) are correct and we are in the midst of a major conceptual shift from education as a system for delivering instruction to education as a system for producing learning (p 13), service-learning’s significance only increases. This is a function not only of the way in which it works but also of what it seeks to accomplish.

In a comprehensive article on “Restructuring the Role of Faculty” (1994), Alan Guskin, chancellor of the five-campus Antioch University System, makes an observation that is becoming increasingly important: namely, “that the primary learning environment for undergraduate students, the fairly passive lecture-discussion format where faculty talk and most students listen, is contrary to almost every principle of optimal settings for student learning.” These principles, which Guskin draws from the work of Chickering and Gamson, include student collaboration, active learning, time on task, and respect for multiple learning styles.

Every one of these principles finds a natural home in service-learning (as do also, if somewhat less distinctively, three other principles: student-faculty contact, prompt feedback, and high expectations).

In contrast to the traditional lecture-discussion format, service-learning encourages - in many instances, mandates - student-student collaboration on challenging real-world tasks, tasks that require an assortment of strengths and skills, including problem identification, process adjustments, and project ownership. By linking theory and practice, reflection and experimentation (Kolb, 1984), it opens up the learning process to accommodate a much wider variety of student learning styles than has traditionally been the case. The significance of such expanded access can hardly be underestimated.

In an article published in 1993, Charles Schroeder, Vice Chancellor for Student Affairs at the University of Missouri-Columbia, reported on the results of a series of studies on student learning styles he and his colleagues had undertaken during a 15-year period.

In our initial studies, we focused most of our inquiry on two very broad learning patterns associated with sensing and intuition. The results indicate that approximately 60 percent of entering students prefer the sensing mode of perceiving compared to 40 percent who prefer the intuitive mode....In general, students who prefer sensing learning patterns prefer the concrete, the practical, and the immediate....The path to educational excellence for sensing learners is usually a practice-to-theory route, not the more traditional theory-to practice approach. (pp. 23-24)

Schroeder goes on to point out that “on many campuses students who prefer the sensing learning pattern are now in the majority. This is particularly true for relatively non-selective institutions that do not place a premium on entrance examination scores.” As for why so many students with a sensing preference are entering college, “[t]he reason is fairly obvious when we consider that approximately 75 percent of the general population has been estimated to prefer the sensing learning pattern” (p. 24).

I myself discovered the value of opening up the teaching-learning process quite by accident. For several years I had taught a values clarification course intended to help students better understand the way in which their mental models shaped their attitudes. In an attempt to introduce greater authenticity into our discussion of poverty and privilege, I arranged to have my students spend some productive time working with the homeless. As a result, I found even typically taciturn students eager to share both their experiences and their new insights. Class discussions became dynamic, even passionate; journal entries swelled far beyond their required length.

Like many instructors, I do not have the luxury of taking student intellectual engagement for granted. In fact, most of my students approach their education from a decidedly utilitarian point of view. While I am, in fact, deeply sympathetic to their practical concerns, I am too committed to the value of liberal learning not to be troubled by what many of them sacrifice in their quest for “marketable skills.”

By opening up the learning process through the introduction of community-based units, I had stumbled upon a way of reconciling diverse, even seemingly contradictory educational values: students could follow their instinct to learn through concrete experience, to remain firmly in contact with “the real world,” while at the same time they grappled with situations that challenged their preconceptions and self-understanding.

Such bridge-building lies at the heart of the service-learning experience and provides the best

metaphor for its value to universities as citizens. I noted earlier how service-learning works to create new patterns of coherence in many areas of academic life: in the way it helps faculty naturally link their research, teaching, and service interests; in the way in which it fosters intra- and inter-department collaboration; in its linking of faculty needs and student leadership opportunities.

Research conducted by UCLA’s Higher Education Research Institute points to another kind of service-related bridge-building. According to Astin, Sax, and Avalos (1996), service involvement (curricular and cocurricular) not only “encourages students to become more socially responsible, more committed to serving their communities, more empowered, and more committed to education,” it also “encourages socialization across racial lines and increases commitment to promoting racial understanding in the years after college” (p. 16).

From the standpoint of America’s changing demographic make-up, these results point in two equally significant directions. In the first place, the undergraduate service experience may be one of our best hopes yet that racial and ethnic tensions may eventually be resolved. But no less important is the social potential captured in the finding that service encourages students to become “more empowered, and more committed to education.” Widespread anecdotal reports suggest that involvement in service-learning has strong positive influence on minority retention. Given the way in which it opens up to students multiple paths to participation and achievement as well as its ability to draw into the learning process leaders and role models from a variety of community-based organizations, such an influence is not at all unlikely.

But perhaps the single most important bridge service-learning helps build and sustain is that between institutional rhetoric and institutional action, between professed values and actual practice. Whether an institution is a research university, an urban land-grant, a liberal arts college, or a community college, the chances are excellent that its mission is enshrined in some form of service or public purpose. Because service-learning can - and in some cases does - affect virtually every aspect of a school’s operations, few other initiatives have the same potential to bring professed values and actual practice so thoroughly into alignment. Hence, institutions as diverse as St. John’s University (NY), the University of Pennsylvania, Bates College, Middlesex Community College (MA), and Portland State University have deliberately turned to it as a primary means of more authentically living out their own self-identified missions and traditions - whether these are expressed in terms of religious commitment, public charter, research capability, or civic and personal values.

Conclusion

This chapter began with a brief discussion of the present wave of interest in service on America’s campuses. Such interest, I conceded, may be cyclical, but we have good reason to believe that this time around it differs in several important respects from earlier manifestations. Service as a voluntary, cocurricular undertaking has been complemented by course-based service-learning, and through the latter, institutions of higher learning have become involved in academy-community partnerships in a new, potentially revolutionary way. As much of this chapter has attempted to show, service-learning’s implications reach into almost every facet of the academic enterprise.

For this reason, service-learning can be more challenging and, perhaps, more institutionally significant than outreach strategies that define community-related efforts in ways that leave an institution’s core educational functions unaffected. And yet, as I have pointed out, Boyer’s New American College, with its “cross-disciplinary institutes [organized] around pressing social issues”; its “[c]lassrooms and laboratories...extended to include health clinics, youth centers, schools, and government offices”; its “practitioners who...come to campus as lecturers and student advisers” envisions nothing less.

In the October 31, 1997, edition of The Chronicle of Higher Education, The Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching announced its four “Outstanding Professors of the Year.” According to the descriptive statements that accompanied the announcement, the achievements of all four of these representatives of “extraordinary undergraduate teaching” involved an “[extension of] the learning process beyond the classroom.” In the case of three of the four, this extension involved “encouraging...students to apply what they learn to real-life situations.” In two of the four, such an extension “connect[ed] students directly with...public service institutions,” thus “stressing the importance of the application of knowledge toward the improvement of the human condition” (p. A29). As in Boyer’s characterization of the New American College, the term service-learning nowhere explicitly appears in this announcement. Still, one can no more doubt its relationship to at least half of the work described here than one can its relationship to Boyer’s own vision. That the organization he headed so ably for so long should single out for recognition precisely this kind of excellence cannot help but strike one as singularly appropriate.

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