10ABOUT CAMPUS / SEPTEMBER–OCTOBER 2013

Published online in Wiley Online Library (wileyonlinelibrary.com)

© 2013 by American College Personnel Association and Wiley Periodicals, Inc.

DOI: 10.1002/abc.21125

Carmen M. McCallum shares her story of how deeply an arbitrary boundary line

aff ected her life in order to challenge us to recognize, change, and cross the lines

that disrupt our students’ success.

By Carmen M. McCallum

Where Do You Draw the Line? How Our Actions

Make a Diff erence

THIS IS A STORY ABOUT LINES: LINES that divide us, lines that give us advantages, and

lines that separate us from opportunity. It is my per-sonal story about lines and how individuals, known and unbeknownst to me, educated me on the power of lines. But most importantly, this is affi rmation of how we can interact with lines to help students.

I grew up in a small suburb outside of Detroit, Michigan. My best friend from across the street and I were very excited to attend kindergarten. We had so many plans: to stay best friends, trade lunches, and always walk home from school together. Unfortunately, a policy decision interrupted our plans and changed our lives.

The summer before kindergarten, our school dis-trict was closed. More than half of my friends were mandated to attend the urban school district just down the street, and a few of us were forced to attend the suburban school district several miles away. The line separating which students would go to which school was drawn literally down the middle of my street, forcing my best friend and me to attend different schools. I was incredibly upset that my best friend was

going to school with the majority of our friends. But as the years passed and we went to separate junior high and high schools, I realized that I was not the one who should have been upset. Every morning my friend and I would leave the house at the same time, but we arrived at very diff erent destinations.

After a short bus ride, I entered a schoolyard fi lled with trees, fl owers, and working playground equip-ment. I was free to enter the building by any available door and I was always greeted by parent volunteers who were there simply to say, “Have a nice day.” My classrooms were filled with school supplies. During class time, the hallways were always clear and instruc-tion was consistent. Over the years, I had opportuni-ties to take advanced placement courses, participate in vocational training, and attend presentations given by community members to enrich my learning. I never wanted for anything during the school day. If I was hungry, I could go to the cafeteria for a healthy treat. If I was concerned about a particular issue, I could visit the school counselors. And most importantly, I was never afraid for my personal safety.

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I want to be clear that I am not blaming teachers. I know there are dedicated, qualifi ed, excellent teach-ers who work in urban school districts, but there was something distinctly diff erent from my experiences and the experiences of my friend across the street. We grew up in the same neighborhood; our social class was the same. We both grew up in a two-parent household and identifi ed as middle-class. But because of where someone drew an invisible line running down the middle of my street, I had a very diff erent life. So I ask: where will you draw the line? If someone else happens to draw the line, will you be willing to cross it?

While some people are working to do away with lines, the fact remains that lines exist and probably will remain prevalent in students’ lives. Recognizing this, how can we mitigate the impact of lines on students’ lives? What role can we play in erasing lines, or at least diminishing the dramatic impacts that a line can have on the education an individual receives or the oppor-tunities that education provides? Can we become line changers and help others cross lines?

My educational experiences have taught me that everyone has the power to manipulate lines; it is just a matter of recognizing that every interaction with a student matters. For example, Mr. Kitch, a special edu-cation teacher in my high school, was willing to cross a line. He was the only black teacher I saw throughout my 12 years of schooling. Mr. Kitch did not interact with students much. In fact, he did not interact with me at all until one day when he asked me where I was planning to go to college. I was shocked! I told him I was considering going to a community college. I actu-ally had no idea. Mr. Kitch shook his head disapprov-ingly, “I’ve noticed you around here. You play on the basketball team and you are smart. You should apply to the University of Michigan.” It was clear that Mr. Kitch knew who I was and was interested in my suc-cess. Embarrassed, I explained to him that my grades were okay but I was sure my ACT scores would keep me from being admitted. Mr. Kitch replied, “Don’t worry about that. I don’t usually call in favors, but I will ask my friend to look out for your application and see what he can do.”

I am not sure if Mr. Kitch’s phone call infl uenced the university’s admission decision. I don’t even know if Mr. Kitch made the call. But I do know that his

My best friend was not as fortunate. She walked several miles down a busy street to reach her school-yard. There were no flowers, no trees, and no par-ent volunteers standing at the doors. Instead, she was greeted by security guards and had to walk through metal detectors to enter the building. The hallways were filled with graffiti, chipped paint, and broken lockers. Her classrooms lacked essential school supplies, and insubordinate students or offi ce announcements often interrupted instruction. There were no advanced placement courses or vocational training opportunities, and sports were extremely limited. If she was hungry outside of lunch hours, she could not go to the caf-eteria to eat. All this distance between my educational experience and my friend’s resulted from a single, invisible, powerful line down the middle of my street.

I was able to have a quality education because someone I did not know drew a line on a map. I attended schools where resources seemed unlimited and my potential for success immeasurable. My friend across the street attended schools with significantly fewer resources. She sometimes had to bring her own toilet paper to ensure it was there when she needed it. Her textbooks could not leave the building, so she couldn’t study at home. Thus, my friend never aspired to go to college. In fact, all of my friends, who lived right across the street, barely graduated from high school. None of them attended college, and all of them had children before the age of 18.

When I look back on it, I am amazed at the power of that line. It forced teachers to struggle for resources rather than help students learn. It allowed a district to employ underqualifi ed teachers without being ques-tioned. That single, invisible, powerful line contrib-uted to a high turnover of teachers and staff , making it almost impossible for students to build meaningful relationships.

All this distance between my educational experience and my friend’s

resulted from a single, invisible, powerful line down the middle of

my street.

Carmen M. McCallum, PhD, is an assistant professor in the higher education administration department at The State University of New York at Buff alo. Her research inter-ests include the recruitment, retention, and experiences of graduate students of color.

We love feedback. Send letters to executive editor Jean M. Henscheid (aboutcampus@pdx.edu), and please copy her on notes to authors.

12ABOUT CAMPUS / SEPTEMBER–OCTOBER 2013

student. Students in my study indicated that common-ality made it easy for them to engage in conversations with line crossers. Often race was the aligning char-acteristic, but students also found themselves bond-ing over socioeconomic status, sexual orientation, and marital status. The similarities between them signaled a mutual understanding of the barriers that someone from their background would encounter along their journey, and the lines they would have to cross to achieve their goals.

The interactions described by the interviewees in my study appear to be diff erent from the typical stu-dent–faculty/staff interactions in the academy. They involved someone going above and beyond what is expected in order to inspire students to raise their own expectations of themselves to meet the standards of those who believe in them—just as I raised my expec-tations of myself due to my interactions with folks like Mr. Kitch.

These line crossers revealed that lines could be crossed, bent, and broken. They also made students aware that they, too, possessed the power to cross, bend, and erase lines for themselves and others coming behind them. The interactions with line crossers were described as personal and special. Those interactions changed students’ lives.

In a recent study on black male achievement, Shaun Harper refers to these types of interactions as serendipitous relationships. But should our students’ success be based on fortune, luck, or happenstance? Should these types of personal, caring interactions be restricted only to those living on one side of the street? Or can we create a culture where everyone meets a Mr. Kitch? As higher education professionals, we can create a culture where every student encounters some-one who helps them cross lines. First, we must be con-scious that every student interaction has the potential to impact someone’s life. Thus, we must create more formal and informal opportunities to interact with stu-dents and always be ready to encourage them to reach their full potential. Second, we must reflect on and understand our own biases. We must interact with students in culturally specifi c ways that engage them

faith in me inspired me to apply to the University of Michigan. Because Mr. Kitch was willing to do some-thing he normally doesn’t do, because he was willing to cross a line, my life changed directions. His faith in me inspired me to reach beyond my own expectations. Our conversation made me examine the lines that still existed in my life—like the lines that made me believe that community college was “good enough” for some-one like me—and how I could cross them. I am certain Mr. Kitch is unaware of the profound impact that con-versation had on my life—we never spoke again—but his willingness to step outside his comfort zone gave me the motivation to cross the line of my own self-image. So I ask again, where will you draw the line, and if a line is drawn, are you willing to cross it?

My 12 years as a higher education professional have helped me to see that Mr. Kitch did not act alone. In fact, there were other line crossers who infl u-enced my education. Some entered my life only for a moment, while others built relationships with me that continue to shape who I am today. This realization prompted me to focus my dissertation on the relation-ships and experiences that contribute to African Amer-icans pursuing graduate education. Findings revealed what I always believed: relationships and people matter.

One student said her drive to pursue graduate education came from her parents who pushed her to achieve, a teacher who stayed after school to make sure she learned the daily lesson, and a college professor who simply gave her a fl yer to a graduate school open house and said “apply.” Another student was inspired by a college professor who pestered him to become more involved in student organizations and welcomed him into her home for dinner so that he would know that he was not alone. Each person’s path to graduate school was unique, but they all typically involved an interaction in which the student perceived that some-one went above and beyond their job description, and potentially crossed lines, to inspire them to succeed. The question remains, however, what motivates indi-viduals to reach out across the lines?

It appears that individuals reach across the line when they perceive they have a connection with a

We must interact with students in culturally specifi c ways that engage

them rather than repel them from experiences that enhance their

lives. We must be willing to extend ourselves beyond our comfort

zones to engage diff erent populations diff erently.

13ABOUT CAMPUS / SEPTEMBER–OCTOBER 2013

with unlimited potential. You will be drawing lines and erasing them—sketching out people’s futures with lines on a map or reaching beyond the lines that you thought were inside you. Circumstances will challenge you to step out of your comfort zone to believe in students’ ability to succeed. It is possible that you will be the one helping students create pathways to col-lege and possibly into graduate education. A line was drawn that led me to become the person I am today. I crossed my own lines of comfort writing this personal essay and sharing my story of inequality. I hope my story inspires you to think about your own lines and consider how you will help students at all stages draw a pathway to success further than they can see, and that we all continue to work to help erase lines that inhibit opportunity.

Note

Harper, S. R. (2012). Black male student success in higher education: A report from the National Black Male College Achievement Study. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania, Center for the Study of Race and Equity in Education.

rather than repel them from experiences that enhance their lives. We must be willing to extend ourselves beyond our comfort zones to engage diff erent popula-tions diff erently. If we do that, then we, too, can be line changers.

It has been over 30 years since a single, invis-ible, powerful line was drawn down the middle of my street, several since Mr. Kitch made me aware that I had the power to cross lines. As a child growing up in a small suburb of Detroit, I never imagined that I would one day be Dr. McCallum. I am proud of my accom-plishments, but I am most proud of my best friend who lived across the street. Despite her circumstances, she enrolled in community college to earn her college degree well after most people are done with school. When I asked her why she fi nally decided to give col-lege a try, she said that while attending a precollege event for her daughter, an advisor, a professional who knows what it takes to make it in college, pulled her to the side and told her it was never too late. And for the fi rst time in her life she believed.

As I look at the field of higher education, I see a group of new professionals (or should I say artists?)