2 Student Development Theory – Illuminating College Student Development Theories through a Personal Narrative
Kimberly Meints
School of Educational Foundations, Leadership and Aviation, Oklahoma State University
HESA 5213: Student Development Theory
Dr. Amber Manning-Ouellette
May 3, 2022
Illuminating College Student Development Theories through a Personal Narrative
Since graduating from college over ten years ago, I have had a lot of time to reflect on the meaning of my experiences as an undergraduate student and how they influenced the person that I am today. However, by learning more about college student development theories and related frameworks and theories, I now have a better understanding of how those experiences influenced my development as well as how my identities likely impacted my experiences. In this paper, I will explore three specific events from my time in college and use them as examples to illuminate several theories. First, I will reflect on search for a church during college and Parks’s (2000) Theory of Faith Development and specifically, her Forms of Dependence and Community. Second, I will explain how my social class, through Bourdieu’s (1987) Theory of Social Reproduction lens, guided my options when facing a family emergency and the repercussions on my academic and employment choices. Finally, I will illustrate my own path toward Baxter Magolda’s (1992) Self-authorship following an upsetting encounter with my grandfather. A few other theories will be addressed along the way.
Pre-College Experiences
No one attends college as a blank slate (Patton et al., 2016), and I would be neglectful of sharing important context for the rest of this narrative if I did not address a few pre-college experiences. I grew up in a lower-middle-class-but-rising family, so that by the time I reached high school, I felt I had everything that I needed to be successful. I took Honors and AP classes, participated in clubs, and drove my own car, even if it was a 10-year-old minivan. My family was, and remains, close-knit, and my mother made sure we attended church three times a week. This was a burden on our time, but both of my siblings and I wanted to be there, so we never resisted. We often took turns driving one another.
My life in high school reflected my reliance on my parents, teachers, school counselors, and pastors to guide me in identifying the right thing to do. I knew I should be smart, and kind, and devout, and I was. Marcia (1996) referred to this stage of development as “Foreclosure,” where the individual relies on authorities to make choices and has no desire to do otherwise (as discussed in Patton et al., 2016, p. 291). Rule following is a common trait, and I prided myself in not only following the letter of the law, but the spirit of it, too. I felt that if a rule had been made, it was probably for a good reason. I very rarely pushed back, and when I did, it was usually due to a logical inconsistency (for example, our student handbook worded the restriction against cell phones and guns on campus the same way, but they were enforced differently as verbally, cell phones were allowed in our vehicles). I still would not break the rule, but I might suggest that it be changed.
This confidence in my ability to complain to authority and to push back against rules I did not like was evidence of my own, unexamined privilege as a white, high-achieving, now-firmly-middle-class student. It never occurred to me that my classmates could not have acted as impudently as I did without consequence. Similar to Marcia, this lack of awareness in myself is described by the first stage of Phinney’s (1990) Model of Ethnic Identity Development (Patton et al., 2016, pp. 135-136).
Spiritual Development through Mentorship
As a freshman, I moved away from home to a college that was two and a half hours away. It was close enough that I could go home any weekend, but not so close that I felt I had to see my family every weekend. My high school pastor had prepared us on how to think “critically” as a Christian, my Baptist Student Union orientation group scheduled several outings to Sunday morning services, and the alumni from my youth group were happy to provide rides to the churches they had joined. In short, I had no excuse not to go to church each week starting on my second day in town. My community had prepared the way for me to easily transfer my religious practices from one location to another, in the hopes that I would remain faithful to our way of thinking.
My spiritual state at the time closely aligns with Parks’s (2000) Theory of Faith Development, particularly the first stages of her Forms of Dependence, where individuals look to authority figures to recognize what is right, and her Forms of Community, where individuals reflect the values of their communities (as discussed in Patton et al., 2016, pp. 204-205). However, with all of these supports in place, I still struggled to find my place in any of these new communities. Most of them had already developed their own in-groups, and I could not make meaningful connections.
At the beginning of my second semester, the missionary organization for my denomination made several announcements about rule changes for those employed internationally. I had gone on my first international mission trip the summer before, so I paid more attention that I would have in the past. The rules seemed inconsistent with some of the guiding principles of our denomination, such as the freedom for individual congregations to choose their own worship style. This was the first time that I truly felt like someone in authority within my church was theologically wrong. I trusted my own reaction more. Within Parks’s (2000) Forms of Dependence, this was the beginning of my transition from “dependent” to “ counterdependent,” and eventually, to the second stage, “fragile inner-dependence” (Patton et al., 2016, pp. 204-205).
Around the same time, I started talking to a boy in my dorm. He helped me process my feelings and reactions and provided insight from his experience as a missionary kid. He invited me to his church, which was in the confusing category of “non-denominational.” None of the people I knew from home went there, but several people from the dorm did. I decided to check the church out and make sure they were not too far away from what was familiar and acceptable to me. They passed my inspection, and I started dating my new confidant. I joined his friend group and found my niche on campus.
The associate pastor was a man in his late 60s who came to campus and held a weekly Bible study over lunch. He always welcomed me warmly and wanted to know how I had been. I always had his full attention. The others who attended had already become my main social group. There was never a significant distinction between our spiritual study time and our hang-out time. Topics of discussion were as likely to cover a Bible story or the latest movie, and we moved freely between those ideas. Many of these people are my literal family today and others are still my closest friends. Parks (2000) would describe my inability to settle in a community as the second stage of her Forms of Community, “diffuse community,” while my eventual mentorship under the pastor as the third stage, “mentoring community” (Patton et al., 2016, pp. 205-206).
Parks’s Theory of Faith Development
Parks (2000) based her theory on the earlier work of Fowler (1981) but felt that he did not address the stage of life common among college students, young adulthood (Patton et al., 2016). She also wanted to incorporate the content of the individual’s belief as a factor of development. She structured her theory around three types of development, “cognition, dependence, and community” (Patton et al., 2016, p. 203). One of her assumptions is that spiritual development is progressive and linear, although development within the different forms could occur independently (Patton et al., 2016).
I find alignment between Parks’s (2000) theory and my own experience, particularly in the earlier stages. Before learning about her theory, I would have described myself as a knowledgeable and independent thinker upon high school graduation. Using her stages as an analytical tool, though, I can see how my knowledge and experiences were carefully guided by my community and authorities. I did not ask questions because all of them were anticipated and answered in advance. With distance, I can appreciate why these choices were made, but I think my own compliance may have given a false sense of security that I would continue to accept certain related, but non-spiritual principles, such as political orientation, without question.
I find that my experience aligns less closely with this theory post-college, particularly among Parks’s Forms of Community. This may be due in part to the political and social upheaval of the last several years and further exasperated by COVID isolation. I am seeking community while experiencing broken community. Another facet not explicitly accounted for in this theory is the existence of online communities, which have been extremely influential in the development of my understanding of various issues, including spiritual, racial, gender, sexuality, and (dis)ability.
Impact of Values and Limitations of Social Class on Academic and Employment Choices
During my sophomore year, I was pursuing a degree in International Business. So far, I had not enjoyed the business classes, and I struggled in French after placing into a course above my ability. There are no big cities in Mississippi, and I was having a difficult time envisioning what work awaited me after graduation. I had left behind specific career aspirations in junior high (teacher, lawyer, president), so I started to feel adrift. Then, mid-semester, my dad fractured a vertebra in his neck and remained in traction for weeks while his doctors sourced a replacement. There was nothing I could do to help. This turmoil eventually led me to change my major to one that I felt would allow me to remain close to my family, so that I would be available to help in the next emergency or crisis.
While I was in college, I understood these circumstances from the lens of my personal and family values. I felt that taking care of my family was an absolute requirement I held for myself and preferable to an uncertain future in an unknown city with a vaguely business-oriented job. I also could not imagine the steps that would be required of me to get from my present state to that eventual ideal. My parents and family were well-connected within Mississippi, but not wealthy or with influential networks beyond the state. With growing clarity, I can identify now what I felt then, the limitation of my social class and capital, as described by Bourdieu’s (1987) Theory on Social Reproduction (as discussed by Patton et al., 2016, pp. 250-253). After this incident, I changed my major to Communication, with an emphasis on Public Relations. I described it as “business with words instead of numbers.” It was an instant fit, as I intuitively grasped the content, and I could easily see numerous ways that I could happily work close to home after graduation. Additionally, many of my classmates had similar goals and it was easier to interact with them.
Bourdieu’s Theory on Social Reproduction
While Bourdieu’s (1987) theory is complex and multi-faceted, his conceptions of “capital” and “field” resonated with the internal struggle I felt as I considered changing my major (Patton et al., 2016, pp. 250-251). While some have criticized the theory as being too narrow or utilizing a deficiency lens (Patton et al., 2016, p. 254), I see how the capital my family and I used as specific and useful within our field, or social arena. Our economic capital (financial resources) was enough to keep us comfortable, sometimes even elevated, within our community, but it was not enough to support me in a more affluent lifestyle. I did not have the cultural capital (i.e., knowledge of what was available. or social capital (i.e., relationships with people who could help me) to navigate such a transition. While other theorists, such as Yosso (2005) have identified further types of capital (Patton et al., 2016, p. 254), that does not suggest that Bourdieu’s three are not significant. His economic, cultural, and social capital concepts can also be used to identify the associated structural barriers that are in place to enforce class disparities, such as the merit-based scholarships (economic), institutional prestige (cultural), and referral-based internships (social).
Journey to Self-Authorship through Difficult Circumstances
My husband and I married at the end of our junior year. We came home to visit my parents in the fall of my final semester to help them move. My mom’s parents also came over to help, although my grandfather was suffering more and more from dementia. My family had recently taken away his car keys, but they had failed to tell me. After a few hours of sorting and packing, my parents asked me to back the truck up to the front porch to load furniture, and Poppa volunteered to keep me company. When he asked me for the keys, I gave them over unknowingly, and as he approached the house in the truck, we nearly wrecked. Shaken, we went over to the new house to eat lunch and wait for the appliance delivery. The drivers from the store arrived before my dad, and there was a small debate about who should give them directions. The situation quickly escalated. My grandfather became angry at being treated like a child, and I intervened to try to calm the situation. He turned his anger to me and shouted hurtful words, which were so different from our relationship. My husband stepped in to defend me, which ended in tears from my grandmother and myself. My dad arrived in the middle of it all, and I retreated to my empty bedroom. After a little while, Daddy came and found me. He said that I needed to forgive my grandfather and rejoin the family. It was a hard thing to do, and forgiveness and healing took months to accomplish, but it was worth it.
Becoming the Author of One’s Life
This experience reflects my journey to what Baxter Magolda (2001) calls “self-authorship” (as discussed in Patton et al., 2016, pp. 366-369). My early life was characterized by “following formulas” (Patton et al., 2016, pp. 366-367), including those that indicated that one should always forgive. Up to that point in my life, though, I had experienced only very minor incidents requiring forgiveness, so this was the first time I attempted it in a difficult circumstance. This time, I was at the “crossroads,” where I had to determine if these choices worked for me and if they were something that I intended to pursue in the future (Patton et al., 2016, p. 367). Because this process of forgiving my grandfather took months to accomplish, I had to continue to make the choice to forgive many times. In this way, I entered the third phase, “Becoming the Author of One’s Life” (Patton et al., 2016, pp. 367-368). Even when the choice was difficult or painful, I became more confident that it was the right thing to do, until it was eventually established as part of my “internal foundation” (Patton et al., 2016, p. 368).
One consideration that seems to be missing from Baxter Magolda’s (2001) theory is the role supportive and non-mentoring relationships play in supporting student development, particularly in the later phases. I was able to process my experience and address my own emotional turmoil through the support of my husband and friends. Baxter Magolda’s perspective is limited to an individualistic understanding of development and decision-making, as the goal is to help a student or mentee make decisions with input from, but ultimately separately from, those with influence over them.
Application
In student affairs and higher education, we have many opportunities to help students navigate new or difficult circumstances. While students may not travel far to attend college, many things can disrupt their communities of support, including a lack of transportation, the need to work, or misunderstanding among family members about the requirements of college (Patton et al., 2016). Each of the theories I have discussed, Parks (2000), Bourdieu (1987), and Baxter Magolda (2001), emphasize the importance of mentorship and community.
My identities and the developmental processes I have experienced have influenced who I am as a practitioner. As a Christian, which has been in essence a protected class throughout United States history, I believe I have the privilege and responsibility to advocate for students whose practices and traditions may not be accommodated on campus. Parks (2000) also emphasizes the importance of mentorship and community to support students who are transitioning away from an authority-informed faith to one that is developed and sustained by the students themselves (Patton et al., 2016). Since I have also gone through this process, I can provide a safe place for students to engage. It is also important for me to be aware of resources on campus for students of all faiths so that I can make appropriate referrals when a student needs support from someone within their faith tradition.
My experience as a middle-class student, followed with working in universities as a middle-class employee, has raised my awareness of college campus working conditions, including those of student workers. Keeping Bourdieu’s (1987) three types of capital in mind (Patton et al., 2016), it is important to me to ensure that equity and fairness are incorporated into university policies for employees. This also extends to influencing the working culture of the university, as we train students, employees or not, on what conditions are acceptable. Some students may also see work as a way to prove their value or to protect themselves from financial precarity (Patton et al., 2016, p. 246), but it is important for them to also understand their value as unique human beings and the machinations of capitalism to be a separate concern unrelated to their apparent worth.
Finally, students arrive at college expecting to learn, although they may not realize that their development will extend beyond academics (Patton et al., 2016). I want to think practically about the help and interventions that I create to ensure that students have an opportunity to reflect on the outcomes of their choices and experiences so that they are better equipped to evaluate if the scripts they have been given are working for them, as Baxter Magolda (2001) encourages (Patton et al., 2016). It could also be helpful to equip students with the knowledge or skills they might need in the future but avoid presenting it in a prescriptivist way. Acknowledging and respecting a student’s autonomy and agency can help them develop while also protecting my own boundaries.
Conclusion
Learning more about student development theories, particularly as they relate to my own experiences, has helped me to further enhance my empathy for students. I have also increased my curiosity for other types of development and critical theories. Parks (2000) emphasizes the importance of mentorship and community for students as they develop spiritually; Bourdieu (1987) identifies the types of capital that expand or limit students’ choices while in college; and Baxter Magolda (2001) explains how individuals can help students as they learn to make decisions individually and establish their own identities (Patton et al., 2016). These theories highlight the practical applications of supporting students in a variety of developmental processes. Critical theories can also help practitioners investigate and improve the campus structures that may unfairly inhibit students from fully engaging in their educational experience.
References
Patton, L. D., Renn, K. A., Guido, F. M., & Quaye, S. J. (2016). Student development in college: Theory, research, and practice (3rd ed.). Jossey-Bass.