Internal Affairs

Ah, summer on campus. While it is no less busy at Harvard, faculty and students (save for the summer ones and those buried deep in the labs) are far more scattered.

For administrators, the invisible "third" semester is a time for getting to all the other projects that fell by the wayside---and for planning. (And all that countless deferred construction.)

In our case, we have grand visions enhancing our internal communications, with an emphasis on community building.

Faculty member George Carrier during, presumably, the good old days.

Since I have been at SEAS, I have been regaled with tales about the days when everyone knew everyone else; when you could get up-to-speed about everything from applied physics to politics over a cup of coffee in the faculty lounge; and when having face time (among students, faculty, and staff) was not mediated by Facebook and Twitter.

Our community has grown in the past few decades---ballooned, actually, in the past 8-10 years. At around 1,500 we are not exactly a bustling city, but sizable and far-flung enough to mean that weeks can go by before one colleague encounters another colleague simply by chance.

Here's a typical exchange:

Me to a faculty member I haven't seen in months: "Hey, have you been on sabbatical?"
Faculty member: "Well, I was out at Berkeley,  but that was more than three months ago."
Me: "Oh!" ... And then, trying to avoid embarrassment, changing the topic to the ever safe ... "So, what's new in terms of research..."

Moreover, the classic flag pole rule (at least what we called it at my alma mater, Kenyon College) has long been abandoned. The rule stated that faculty (and in many cases, staff) could live no more than a mile or two from campus. The Cambridge real estate market, however, had and continues to have a slightly different idea about the rules for residency, namely, the need for a lot of $.

With longer commutes, kids, and other complications, hanging out after work has become a luxury---and even sharing a lunch (which many skip so as to leave early to beat the traffic) is a chore that even Google calendar cannot solve.

The dean's door (in this case, when Frans served as interim).

Many of us try to keep our doors open---a philosophy set by the prior dean. That works, so long as you are not in a meeting, dealing with private matters (or documents), or having to hunker down and concentrate.

Meaning, apart from the light sneaking out, most doors remain closed more than open by necessity.

Others (who can and have the time) continue another tradition he espoused: leading by walking around. In communications, chatting everyone up is actually a fantastic way to convey information and to find out what's going on (and what the concerns are).

You also pick up on chatter, rumors, and gossip. I myself am a hallway roamer and end up solving a lot of problems en route from the kitchen to my office. I like to say that I am always working (but that may just be to justify my wanderlust).

That said, for many who spend their days dealing with payroll, writing up dreaded letters about academic probation, processing invoices, dealing with complex management or personnel issues---all critically important functions---staying put is the mandate. These are strictly non-walking activities (even with VPN-enabled mobile devices at the ready).

The solution to reaching all the windswept dandelion seeds is, tah-dah, digital: internal e-newsletters, websites, social networking sites, and digital signs. (As for the latter, does anyone really read those flashing "ads" or, like me, think, "Wow, what a waste of a fantastic television," or "Wouldn't Mario Kart 64 be utterly fantastic on a screen that big!")

Dean Cherry A. Murray at an "All Hands" meeting.

We, of course, supplement the virtual with the real, hosting periodic "all hands" meetings to update our community on progress and future plans. In the coming months, we plan to bolster these meetings with more population-specific events.

We already have faculty-only meetings; senior-administrative staff only meetings; academic area- (our version of departments) fairs and fests; and a joint council (that bridges union and non-union staff and managers and staff). Now there are plans to add general staff meetings (dedicated to administrative issues).

The dean was so keen on building internal community she offered funding (that anyone in the school could apply to receive) for activities to support such efforts. As a result, one clever administrator introduced the wildly popular faculty chalk talks (faculty discuss their research in lay friendly terms to staff); faculty and students created everything from science soirees to a seminars series dedicated to first year graduate students trying to figure out what lab/research area they wanted to latch onto; and I and a team of colleagues made an attempt at SciFi Movie Nights (which, at least, we enjoyed.)

A t-shirt from the SEAS launch (worn with pride).

To gauge our progress we scrutinize analytics (from open rates to visit stats); conduct surveys (formal and informal); convene focus-groups; look at industry standards/benchmarks; and consult colleagues about what works in their departments or schools. (I also like to see how many folks are wearing things with our name/logo.)

We have found that the more you communicate, the less progress it seems you are making. Until a few years ago, we had almost NO specific internal communication vehicles. Now that we have an intranet site, an internal newsletter, more letters from deans and administrators; and meetings galore, what we hear is that we are not communicating enough (or clearly enough).

That may be a sign of progress, as there are now means for people to communicate about internal communications (and vehicles for community members to assess). It is really hard (endless) work.

Figuring out what your community wants isn't easy.

When I have spoken to my communications colleagues in others schools about internal communications most of them respond with a shudder. It's one of those have-to-dos that everyone tries to pawn off on some other department.

The rewards are far less glorious (or visible) than a scoring a New York Times article, hosting a SRO event, or wiggling your way out of some potentially damaging publicity.

This dilemma, at first blush, is trying to give people information that they want and will use. Then again, maybe the goal is to connect folks to the larger aims of the school. Or, is it ensuring that every community member feels understood and listened to. Last but not least, it could be making people feel part of the family (as in the good old days).

The answer is "all the above" (and more). And thus, the work of internal communications is never done.

A more realistic (and sobering) assessment can be found in one of my favorite articles by Russell S. Powell. In "Your Best Ambassadors" he writes:

There is often a perception that the administration — of which you are a member — exists in a bubble, apart from the fray of classroom attendance, lost dorm keys, and late registrations. People are reassured when they see you as a person genuinely interested in their concerns rather than as some shameless huckster from the mysterious and detached world of marketing.

http://chronicle.com/article/Your-Best-Ambassadors/44837/

 And that bit of wisdom applies to everyone in the administration.