Are We Reaching: Part 2

Students lit up when they saw the LED t-shirts for Harvard's 375th.

In the last post, we asked how do you reach students?

As written about in earlier posts, often colleges and universities are so caught up in reaching prospective students they forget about the ones they have right in their own hallways.

The up-front lesson worth remembering: current students influence prospective students (far more than we do) and current students go on to be alumni (and they take their experiences with them).

I have heard stories from our own alums to the effect of: "Wow, I really had no idea about all the resources available to me! We had a career office? Really?" Or, something akin to: "Trying to find out what was going on or how to say, do summer research, was nearly impossible."

That's where good communication comes in.

A warning in advance. What follows is one of those lists that many might say, well duh, I already know all of this. If that is the case, then think of it as a check-up. If you are doing all of these things, how might you do them better? Or how might you obtain some analytics to do an assessment? 

On a practical level, how do you get the messages (often which are important, exciting, useful) through all the clutter without becoming part of the clutter?

• Email still works. Yes, email---the original killer app for the Internet is still going strong. Good email lists also still matter. Even in the age of spam, people still like being invited to something and knowing about things (even if they have no desire to attend). Be sure to edit and prune the lists constantly. HTML email can be great, but it should be used thoughtfully and not to the detriment of the most vital information. (A personal pet peeve is when dates, times, and locations are nearly impossible to find among all of the graphics and photos.) 
• Formal invitations mean more. While used more rarely these days, as above, folks still like getting invites, especially more exclusive ones (say from the dean, president, or other VIP). Whether it is via Paperless Post or actual paper, don't underestimate the power of old school communication methods.
  
• Posters merit pausing. Yes, the kinds that are stapled, taped, and hung all around campus. Very 1980's for sure. People really do stop and stare for a moment, if not longer. Some of the more attractive posters are even "stolen." (Trust us on this.) There's something about physical reminders and paper in particular that soothes the overactive mind.
  
• Videos can encourage engagement, but may not be worth the investment. If the video is necessary to "show" the nature of the event, provide instructions, the resource of an office, or explain a benefit, then the effort might make sense. If it is yet one more channel, think hard before getting the camera out of the case. I think the promo for Harvard Thinks Big is good example along with course trailers.
  
• Group outings encourage attendance. People like to go to things with other people. People like knowing "who will be there." Finding ways to create and support affinity groups is essential to good attendance or participation in an activity. It's a friendly form of peer pressure. After all, just as no one wants to go to see a bad movie alone, few want to attend an event or visit a new lab without someone else to share in the excitement.
  
• One-on-one marketing connects. Who doesn't enjoy someone taking the time to say, "Hey, I think you might enjoy this. Or have you seen this fantastic opportunity---it would be perfect!" Caring is truly sharing. Folks in communications can facilitate this or suggest that others reach out in person.
  
• If the dean (or president) deems it important, they will come (or submit an application, etc.). While when used in excess you can fall into the trap of always calling wolf, is something is critical or vital to the institution, then pull out the big guns.
  
• Door-to-door soliciting isn't always annoying. I admit to rustling people up prior to an event or activity to ensure attendance. Someones people are so locked into what they are doing they need a jolt to snap out of it and, yes, attend an info session on future careers in aviation.
  
• Web 2.0 technologies are fantastic. And yet, they are simply one more channel, not necessarily a replacement of existing methods or a good indicator of attendance.
  
• Communications cultures vary. At Google, they place daily single page print newsletters with useful information in all of the bathrooms (on the backs of stalls and right above urinals).
• Repetition. Repetition. Repetition. Everyone complains about getting too many emails, e-letters, and so on. People complain even more when they don't receive information. 

On a philosophical level, how do you deal with what author Barry Schwartz calls the "paradox of choice."

• Become a human filter. Editors still matter. How you rank activities and choices on a website or even on physical signs sends very powerful messages. Work with fellow administrators (and students!) to figure out what is truly valuable. In addition, use analytics (sometimes on the fly) to drive attention to something that is not gaining visibility or to help determine what is working well.
  
• Use a self-selecting filter. The students in CS50 developed an event calendar that pulls from all calendars across Harvard. http://events.cs50.net/

• Same bat time, same bat channel. When possible, keep a series of talks, activities, open houses, etc. at the same time and location. It makes it easier to remember and also means you have to do less work to remind people. Common hours (or free periods) are also valuable in this regard.
  
• Go to the audience. Consider announcing a new thing or new activity prior to class starting, a large-scale meeting, or in one where you hope those attending will spread the news. I give a lot of credit to the new director of the Harvard Innovation Lab for visiting students directly in their houses (i.e. dorms) to present all of the programs on offer.
  
• Declare a snow day. If an event, activity, or say grand opening of a new building, is mission-critical, then tell everyone that they essentially have the day off for the purpose of attending the activity. In retrospect, as much as the 375th Celebration of Harvard was a wonderfully wet experience, I keep speculating what would have happened if they just would have had it mid-day, cancelled classes and other activities, and just let people hang out and celebrate.

• Reward (or require) attendance. The carrot and stick model can be effective. I recall having to go to some external talks as part of a course. The professor would say, "Given that we are studying the collapse of the Soviet Union and that the world leading expert on the matter is giving a talk tonight, I require you to go. Yes, it will be on the exam."
  
• What you think is great, they might not think is great. I recently received several frantic phone calls from a colleague wondering why our students and faculty were not rushing to submit proposals for a collaborative research activity. Did I simply not send out the email? I did. I then was quite frank in explaining that the reward (see above) was way too low for people to want to engage---limited funding for projects they were likely already engaged in through other means. Too often universities create centers, initiatives, calls for proposals, etc. that replicate what is already happening on campus. Search for what is already out there before creating something new.
  
• Make it fun. Make it easy. Enough said. In an ideal world with infinite time, people truly would do x or attend y just for the sake of it. These days, a bit of "wow" or pizzazz goes a long way.

I will end with an anecdote.

These posters certainly connected with students.

In the 1990s administrators in the College of Arts and Sciences at Indiana University faced a quandary.

A huge portion of the undergraduate population was majoring in business---to the great aggravation of other academic programs.

To combat the trend, the higher-ups hired a communications firm to create an internal advertising campaign directed at students to let them know about the world beyond Wall Street.

They came up with a tagline---Major In Liberal Arts and Sciences: Think for a Living---and a series of colorful, and often arresting ads.

THES ran an article about the novel campaign:

But rather than being applauded, the advertising campaign was met with scathing criticism inside and outside the school.

Students in other departments complained they were being portrayed as unthinking drones. The college was assailed by academics who sniffed that advertising was "below" it.

Do business majors not dream?

"A student who could be convinced to study arts and sciences because of a catchy slogan on a colourful banner would have to be the most weak-minded undergraduate ever admitted" to the university, said Daniel Pollyea, himself an arts and sciences major.

"There are obvious financial benefits for the college of arts and sciences to take on more students, but the fine line that once separated the academic world from blatant commercial and financial interests has been irreparably smeared."

Philip Gossett, dean of humanities at the University of Chicago, said the ads were slick and funny, but also offensive. "The ads won't fool anyone.

(From The Times Higher Education Supplement, http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/story.asp?storyCode=145061&sectioncode=26%29)

The ads were quickly discontinued (not before, however, I requested a few of the posters to hang on my wall.)

If you work at a place where everyone does "think for a living" make sure to think very carefully about your approach to reaching your intended student audience.

Are We Reaching? : Part 1

Courtesy of Flickr user daveknapik

How do you reach students?

That sounds like some kind of existential or leading pedagogical question. A question that has been "answered" in movies like Mona Lisa Smile, Dead Poets Society, or the Great Debaters. To reach students just add an inspiring, yet stern lecturer who makes a connection; stand on a table and profess an uncomfortable truth; or in the case of where I work, rip a textbook in half and say, "don't be part of the heard."

(That last bit really happened, as part of a video on innovation at Harvard. A member of the engineering faculty really did cleave a book in two with his bare hands---a trick that was performed earlier at a Harvard Think Big talk by a computer science instructor. I promise, we really do like the printed page.)

On the other hand, watch The Social Network, and well, the solution to getting inside a student's digital soul is right there in the title.

In my line of work the question of how to reach students is, alas, quite literal: as in, how do you get students to find out about a new program in applied computational science, an event with the former president of India, an internship opportunity with Microsoft, or gasp, a policy on the proper use of the school's identity.

How do you get them to stop, drop, and not roll their eyes?

How do you get them to slow down their buzzing brains to let in a nanosecond of new information?

As a communications officer, you are besieged by daily requests to "help get the word out" or to "encourage your students to apply for great opportunity #1,853" or to "get the community to show their spirit and volunteer for marching in a parade!"

My office gets overwhelmed coping with the publicity; I cannot imagine how those on the receiving end of all of these urgent missives feel. Well, actually, part of my job is to try to figure out how to communicate with clarity under such constraints.

Illustration by Mark Todd.

Yet, wait. Aren't these the kind of multitasking, socially networked, over-programmed kids who can process ad infinitum? Can't they juggle knives and knowledge without being cut? Don't they drink from the fire hose of veritas?

In the New York Times, alum and book publisher James Atlas called them the Super People.

"It’s a select group to begin with, but even so, there doesn’t seem to be anyone on this list who hasn’t mastered at least one musical instrument; helped build a school or hospital in some foreign land; excelled at a sport; attained fluency in two or more languages; had both a major and a minor, sometimes two, usually in unrelated fields (philosophy and molecular science, mathematics and medieval literature); and yet found time — how do they have any? — to enjoy such arduous hobbies as mountain biking and white-water kayaking."

Of course, Atlas is describing a Super Person's ability to walk, talk, chew gum, and save the world all at the same time.

Such parallel processing also implies that these students can attend to vast amounts of information and well, attend lots of events---without reverting to information overload (as in the funny commercials for the Bing search engine.)



So what's one more thing? As I have mentioned in prior posts, an amazing aspect of Harvard (or any university for that matter) is its convening power.

In a given week we have more activities that any one person could even read about let alone show up for---even if aided by Hermione's Time Turner (a magical device that allows her to be in two place at once, primarily so she can take additional academic courses).

The activities are both internal (hosted by a school like ours), university-wide (like the 375h birthday party), or external (as in visits by heads of state). Moreover, for most students, all of these activities are in addition to their classes, clubs, and athletic activities.

I recall a late, great applied physics faculty member extolling my office for "putting out far too many event announcements"---as in, why do we possibly need to host so many colloquia given that there's no way to attend them all. He conflated our publicizing the events with us actually producing them.

In fact, at Harvard, every time you turn around you see yet another great lecture series on topic x. Every center, de facto, has its own series. Every department has several. Every school has hundreds if not thousands. And if you miss it, don't worry, you can watch it later online.

In addition to lecture series, each entity also now seems to have some kind of academic program even if they are not actually a school or have no way to grant a degree (a consortium, concentration, short-course, or a fellowship); a grants or awards program; and often an opportunity to tackle a given problem by just signing up!

Harvard, like many institutions of higher learning, reflects the Super People mindset. Some might say that such places, through the ever-increasing competitive admissions race, may have helped create the very Super People it now supports, and thus, is perpetuating the over-programming. In short, the snake bites its own tail again and again.

SEAS paraders at the 375th. Photo courtesy of Harvard Magazine.

For the 375th celebration of Harvard, for example, various deans and faculty were invited to multiple special events all at the same time (and often quite far apart, phyiscally). The response for how to deal with this dilemma was to, I kid you not, "think of it as a kind of pub crawl".

Our dean (and many others from what I heard) found this exasperating. Keep in mind, these are the kind of leaders that, by virtue of their roles, are inevitably overbooked.

I get the sense from the students that, each day, they face a very similar challenge of how to map out their days and nights.

As communications offices are, in part, there to help organize the chaos into something coherent for their various audiences, how can we become the best executive secretaries we can be and help ease the selection process or narrow down the choices?

I view this as a two-pronged issue.

• On a practical level, how do you get the messages (often which are important, exciting, useful) through all the clutter without becoming part of the clutter? In my day, we had a weekly printed publication of all of the events and activities at the college (all rendered in eye-harming 8 point type). If it wasn't in that publication, it wasn't happening on campus (or at least the students didn't want the administration know that it was happening.)
  
  
• On a philosophical level, how do you deal with what author Barry Schwartz calls the "paradox of choice." Too many choices is often worse than fewer ones, if not paralyzing. In a related book by Johah Leher, How We Decide, the author describes a scenario where he was so overwhelmed by the overwhelming selection of supermarket cereals that he clammed up and stood frozen in the isle for several minutes.

In my next posting, I will present some solutions.

In the meantime, if you want to feel dizzy, just check out the University calendar. I mean, wow. It's overwhelming in that cool kind of way---so much is happening all at once, all within a relatively concentrated space.

Maybe Harvard should borrow a popular tagline and apply it it itself: "To infinity and beyond."