A s some may know, I wear many hats on this campus aside from just being the Editor-in-Chief of The Guidon. I am a cadet, a student, an intern, a published journalist and the Public Affairs Officer (PAO) in the Corps. We at Norwich all carry with us a selection of covers, ready to switch out to fit the situation. Even I do not need a code flag to tell me who I need to be at any given time.
But, what happens when these different roles we play cross? I was recently faced with this dilemma when I was writing the story in this issue on recognition. I pride myself on my journalistic ability, but this one was difficult to piece together while withholding my own bias.
As a cadet, I was supportive of the delay. As a journalist, I was happy for the big story. But, as the PAO I was defensive.
I was worried for the image issues that would conflict with the strong front our cadet leadership worked hard to put out all year. That bias began to influence my ability to give you the truth. And then I realized, while I was transcribing the interviews for my story, that sometimes you have to remove all of your hats and accept the fact that you are one person created by your experiences. The story you have in your hands has come from the PAO, a cadet, and your favorite Editor-in-Chief all wrapped up into one.
They are the facts balanced by my mixed emotions which I think makes it a fair story.
That’s what she said…
February 20, 2014 Leave a Comment
It is always an interesting conversation to have regarding how students “grow up” through the four-year progessive leadership model that is Norwich University. NU is a learning lab unto itself for students to take on various leadership positions, whether civilian or corps. We take, typically, recently graduated high schoolers and turn them into the future leaders of the world with our program. But, when, during the course of this leadership training, do we actually “grow up.”
Though nearly all, if not all, of the students here at NU are technically adults. I admit that I am guilty of referring to my subordinates as “kids” from time to time. The other day, a colleague of mine called me out publicly for using that term and I realized that I never really thought about it before. It was just part of my vocabulary when referring to my group of subordinates.
Maybe it is just my style of leadership and/or the desire to build bonds with the people I am leading. Maybe it is how my mind views and processes how I can make the most trustworthy connection to those under my purview. Maybe, more than likely, it is the need to give them a sense of security in their role as a subordinate. Maybe, it is just because I have a maternal streak in me so prominent that it affects my arguably effective leadership style.
Yes, I completely understand the idea behind avoiding the word “kid.” We are not kids, we are adults making adult decisions. The term “college kid” should be offensive considering that some of us are even making the very adult decision to put our lives on the line for our communities, states, and/or country. I never meant it in a condescending way and, as far as I can tell, no one has really taken it that way before. But, the argument still stands to reason.
However, I would like to argue that we associate so much wisdom and knowledge with the term “adult,” This is college, this is a time of learning and making mistakes. “Adults” are looked at to know without or with minimal mistakes. “Kids” are allowed to fail and be forgiven much more easily.
In a way, referring to my subordinates as “kids” is my way of allowing them to fail because I will forgive them and take blame. And, for the record, I have never once received a complaint from a subordinate about my calling them a “kid.” So, I must be doing something right.