Pearls of Wisdom: An ode to academic advising

Stop spraying the trees and fill Lake Lag. Caterpillars and tiger salamanders are no longer the only endangered species on this campus.

Earlier this month, the University announced that HPACs (very infrequently also known as Head Peer Academic Coordinators) may soon be scarcer than alcohol in freshman dorms.

Unlike alcohol, which can be surreptitiously (or not so surreptitiously) snuck into Stern and consumed behind closed (or slightly ajar) doors, the HPAC is an entity of the University’s own making — and hence not easily reproduceable with the help of the friendly look-the-other-way vendors at Ernie’s or Miyake.

The University’s trial elimination of the position, according to Monday’s Daily editorial, is “an effort to address inconsistent advising at the undergraduate level.” This questionable rationale not only ignores the fact that the University itself creates the problem when it selects and trains these inconsistent individuals, it also reduces the multi-faceted position to a single function — one which is not, at the end of many days/years/college careers, its most important.

My HAA (as in previous columns, my use of acronyms dates me; the Head Academic Advisor title morphed in 2001) was the first staff member I met in my freshman dorm. In fact, he was virtually the only staff member I met in my freshman dorm. While the RAs and the RCC were nice and fun and so forth, Jake, my HAA, minored in English (my eventual major), lived next door to me and seemingly kept his door open 24/7. These were all qualities the rest of the staff did not share.

Jake was only a junior, but he was the master of his academic domain. At his small rural high school in Westmoreland, Kansas, his AP History class consisted of him, a room, and a copy of the American Pageant. At Stanford, he became a premed Bio major, wrote short stories (one of which won the Creative Writing department’s award his senior year), played in the band, and worked in a lab until he graduated — at which point he joined the Peace Corps for two years before heading off to med school at Columbia. A poster child of academic success if there ever was one.

But neither Jake’s GPA nor his impressive coordination of professor dinners, study breaks, and other academic dorm programs support my main point here. The best evidence is that on more than one occasion, Jake returned to his room to find multiple individuals (OK, girls) sleeping on his couch and in his bed. And not (on his part) for the inappropriate reasons that come to mind. To say that my HAA/HPAC was twice as present and Stanford-career-impacting as any other staff member would be a serious understatement.

To expect that the already-overburdened RAs will simply “pick up the slack” is ridiculous, even if the University replaces the HPAC with an additional RA. Rather than numerous weeks of HPAC training, RAs will, presumably, receive a day or two of academic advising training. Won’t that just create more inconsistencies?

Beyond their personal contributions to freshman dorms, HPACs also serve as the link to the entire freshman advising system — the PMs and AAs (previously PAAs, AAs, and FAs. In the interest of diversity, all Stanford acronyms are, apparently, composed of the word “advisor” attached to “peer,” “academic,” and/or “faculty”). I presume that this team, assigned to freshmen before they arrive on campus, will continue to exist — though I can’t imagine how.

Despite Jake’s attempts to locate my MIA AA, I can count our interactions on one hand — most of which occurred during Orientation. Based on a very informal poll, I think it’s safe to say that my AA experience was par for Stanford’s course. Unlike HPACs, who make a year-long commitment to eat, sleep and breathe alongside their freshmen, PMs often sign up because it sounds like a fun idea at the time. As soon as the PMs’ own academic going gets rough or, more often, as soon as Orientation ends and their friends arrive, the responsibility drops to the same space it occupies on their resume — the bottom of a very long list. Abandoning ship is much easier when you don’t live down the hall; hell, for at least the first two quarters, most freshmen can barely find their way home, let alone locate some obscure Row House.

As a former PAA, Peer Mentor in the English major, and Bridge counselor, as well as a current unofficial advisor to my little brother and his friends, I am living proof that academic advising happens all over this campus — formally and informally, accurately and inaccurately. If the University eliminates the HPAC position, other people will fill in the gaps, for better or worse. It takes more than a little help from our friends to make it through our four years here and everyone, especially freshmen, is more likely to turn to the almost-peers with whom we have the most contact. Given that, doesn’t it make the most sense for the University to train a few to help us help ourselves?

Been there, done that? Email advice to lisame@stanford.edu.