Joe Sabado – Higher Education & Technology Leadership

I came across several blog posts and tweets on why it’s not a good idea to love one’s job. It made me think of how I approach what I do in student affairs. I’ve concluded that to do what I do; I need to care and love the purpose of my contributions and the folks that impact them for me to put the effort and thoughts all these years. By no means am I suggesting other folks who don’t share the same level of care/love can’t/don’t do their job as well or better than I do? Nor am I suggesting that my job is all fun and games. I share my stories not to suggest other folks approach their jobs like me but because I genuinely feel blessed to work for an organization that provides me personal and professional satisfaction.

The bureaucracy, the lack of resources to do what needs to be done, and sometimes difficult personalities are challenges that make my job hard at times. At times, I feel I’ve been treated lesser than others because of my skin color or background. But, they are all worth the effort to deal with them, given the reasons why I’m in student affairs. To me, it’s about helping first-generation students who don’t have parents and family members who can help them navigate college, struggling financially to attend school, and trying to find themselves in a society that is not fair at times. The satisfaction in my job is just seeing these students succeed. They may not even know I exist. That’s okay. I’m not asking for anything in return from these students personally. I’ve been fortunate to have built relationships with some students that have lasted beyond their years at UCSB.

If I view my job in student affairs IT as just about computers, I’m missing the bigger picture. Ultimately, it’s about helping students succeed through technology and my roles as a discussion leader, organizational advisor, mentor, and facilitator. My role as the director/leader in my IT organization is about helping my staff and my colleagues grow, creating an environment where they feel personally satisfied with what they do and contribute. Ultimately, my job is about helping people and helping build communities. I am also part of the UCSB community.

As I reflect on why one should not love their job, I came across these blog posts I’ve written in the past that remind me of why I love my job.

Nowhere I’d Rather Be Than in Student Affairs:
https://joesabado.com/2015/02/the-blessings-of-my-job-in-student-affairs/

The Significance of Possibility/Role Models:
https://joesabado.com/2015/01/the-significance-of-possibilityrole-models/

UCSB STEP Program – Nourishment For My Soul
https://joesabado.com/2014/08/ucsb-step-program-nourishment-for-my-soul/

Why I Love My Job in Student Affairs
https://joesabado.com/2014/06/reminders-of-why-i-love-my-job-in-student-affairs-at-ucsb/

UCSB Community – We’re All In This Together
https://joesabado.com/2014/05/ucsb-community-were-all-in-this-together/

Pilipino Graduation and What My Job Really Means
https://joesabado.com/2012/06/pilipino-graduation-ceremony-and-what-my-job-really-means/

I once belonged to an organization as a student. It was an organization that had a relatively large membership, I would say more than 100 members. As such is the case with an organization of that size, cliques and sub-groups based on interests and backgrounds began to form. In addition, “in-crowds”, those considered popular and influential to the organization and its activities soon developed. Along with the “in-crowd” were those who felt marginalized as they felt their interests weren’t heard and acknowledged. Soon, the marginalized folks began to express their discontent about the lack of discourse and openness to alternative ideas which ultimately lead them to break-away from the main organization to form their own group.

What became of the new group, from my perspective, was an interesting one. Whether the members of this new group realized it or not, they themselves began to alienate new members because the new members did not align with the group’s ideologies. It’s ironic that the core group members began to practice the same behaviors of the “in-crowd” of the other organization they had criticized.

As we fight  for our own rights and the rights of others to be heard, just remember that when you are afforded the opportunity to finally be heard and to provide influence – just beware, don’t become the very thing you criticize.

It is during the most challenging times of my job when I think how blessed I am to have my job in student affairs, specifically as an IT leader within student affairs. The sometimes convoluted nature of higher education bureaucracy, the pressure of delivering critical technology services with limited resources, and juggling competing priorities make it challenging some days. But, even with these challenges, actually, because of these challenges, I feel blessed to have my job. I can easily look beyond the day-to-day frustrations because I know that at the end of the day, what matters is that my colleagues and I, the work we do, have a very important purpose – to help students succeed.

My wife and I were watching a tv show this evening; it might have been Dinners, Drive-Ins, and Dives on the food network. The host asked a chef, “how much of what you do is work and how much is love?” My wife asked me the same question. My immediate answer is 100% love. That may sound corny and overly sentimental, but I truly believe it. Yes, my job provides my wife and me with income to live a life we enjoy, but frankly, if I were paid the same amount working outside student affairs, I don’t think I would have the same personal and professional fulfillment. The public may hear and read about UCSB at times that we are a party school. The reality is that I know many students who came from challenging backgrounds growing up, and they have had to fight through some adversities to get to the university. I also know that these students take their studies seriously as they have the burden of creating a future for themselves and their families. These students drive me. They motivate me to do my part to make sure they succeed.

I don’t think about this often, but from time to time, I look at our portfolio and the body of work our team has done through the years, and it’s amazing how technology impacts the lives of our students way before they even step on to our university. I think about how our online disabled student program system enables our students with disabilities to get accessibility resources (note-takers, proctors, adaptive devices), how our student health service and counseling and psychological service information systems help our clinicians and psychologists provide timely and effective service to our students, and how our other systems and applications assist our students from the application process and after they graduate. When I think about the value of these systems,  I realize how important our roles are to the success of our students.

Sometimes I read/hear others complain about the demands of our jobs as student affairs professionals, and I think I can sympathize with some of these complaints. But, personally, if one is to think about the amazing opportunities we have to make a difference in the lives of our students and their families, how blessed are we to be working in student affairs?

I watched a clip of Dr. Victor Rios’ interview about the adversities he faced growing up and how he overcame them to obtain his Ph.D. Dr. Rios is a very highly regarded Sociology professor at UCSB. He is also known for his work in the community working with youths. In his interview, he said the words, “Own your story. Share your story.” This resonated with me. I never felt like I had anything remarkable to share for most of my life. I can’t speak about the struggles other friends have had in their lives. I’ve encountered racism, discrimination, and struggles throughout my life, but even then, I never felt as if they were at the level worthy of talking about. But I’ve come to realize that as unremarkable as my life may have been to this point, I have some perspectives to share.

My family and I came to the United States when I was 11. While I spoke some English, I was teased in the playground because of my “fresh off the boat” accent. Because I feared being teased, I sometimes pretended to be sick during those days when I had to do oral book reports. I became self-conscious about my speech for most of the high school and even for the first year or so in college. I feared public speaking because I expected to see someone in the audience laughing at my accent. So, I stayed quiet. I had ideas, but I chose not to share them. I finally got tired of staying silent. I became more vocal in my latter part of college. I finally gained some confidence.

I soon discovered my voice would be drowned again when I became a professional. I felt the same struggles as when I was growing up. At meetings, I felt as if my ideas were ignored. When I spoke about my perspective as a person of color, I felt I wasn’t taken seriously. I lost confidence and found myself trying to express my perspectives once again.

Through my blog posts, I’m finally able to express my thoughts, and share my experience growing up about the sacrifices my parents made and the value systems I learned from them. Through my blog posts, I can share my concepts of leadership and the influences and philosophies that shape my leadership style.

When  I started my blog, I didn’t have expectations regarding who will be reading them or if people would even find my posts interesting enough to read. What I have found though, is that in sharing my stories, I’ve developed some connections with folks I have never even met in person before. As I’ve discovered, I am not alone in how I see the world and with my struggles.

While my life may not be remarkable enough worthy of a movie or a book, it’s been liberating to be able to share my story – to own them and to be able to share them.

“Don’t steal my car!” a total stranger, an older white man, told me this morning. He said this while we were in a restaurant when I walked past him to get an item from my car. We had arrived at the same restaurant parking lot earlier, and he had parked his car, an older model Porsche, next to my car, a Prius. It’s not every day a total stranger tells me not to steal his car, so I was a bit startled by it. My initial reaction was, “did he just really say that?” As soon as I heard what he said, I responded, “Excuse me. What did you say?” Maybe he had thought he wasn’t going to get any response from me or if he did, he expected a more positive one. He looked startled when I said that to him. Because I was with a group of co-workers to celebrate the retirement of one of the school administrators, my personal mentor actually, I chose not to continue my exchange with this stranger.

Whether this stranger said this as a joke or whatever his intent was, he probably didn’t expect the impact on me, based on my reaction. Maybe he was expecting me to laugh and go along with the humor. I didn’t see it that way. I later posted this incident on Facebook, along with my sarcastic comment that maybe I look like a car thief even with my professional attire (dress shirt, slacks, and tie). I also commented that he was an  “SOB”. The reactions ranged from that it was a joke to racial profiling and the possibility that the stranger was posturing, that as males, this was a display of competition.

In the most objective analysis, I can suggest the idea that intents do not always equal impacts. I can give that stranger the benefit of the doubt that his reasons could be just that he was joking, as suggested by a couple of friends who responded to my Facebook post. I wouldn’t say that to a total stranger because I am cautious of what I say, and I was raised to be respectful. But what makes this incident somewhat complex is that as the recipient of this comment, I carry experiences that formed my emotional reaction to it.  While I suggested in my Facebook post today that the stranger’s comment was more of a reflection of himself than mine, my reaction is also based on my perception. The incident today triggered an experience I had a long time ago. When I was younger, I had a similar incident happen to me. I was waiting for my parents in our car, with the window open,  while they were in a doctor’s clinic, and this older white male just came up to me and told me, “don’t steal my car,” as he pointed to his car parked a couple of stalls away. I didn’t know how to react back then; I didn’t dare to respond to him like I did today.

There have been several times in my life when I’ve been in situations when I felt like I was treated with lesser respect than others. For example, there have been times when I’m shopping and either an employee follows me closely, or at other times, I am offered no help.  One unpleasant experience was at Nordstrom in Santa Barbara. Two employees, a few feet away from me, did not even acknowledge me or offer their help. I was the only person in that store area at that time. I was alone until an older white couple, dressed like they would have money, joined me. The two employees immediately walked and greeted them and cheerfully offered their help. This is when I went through a process of posing questions in my head, trying to understand why this just happened. It’s a process I go through more than I would like, given the number of similar incidents in my life. Was it because I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt and I probably looked like I had no money to spend? Is it because of my age, my look, my race, or maybe something else? I have had similar experiences at Best Buy in the past, where I was ignored.

Interestingly, when I described my experience to a co-worker who once used at Best Buy, he mentioned that when he worked for the company, he was trained to look for people who may not look technically knowledgeable. These are the customers whom they could potentially sell extra warranties because that’s where the store makes money. I had not considered that perspective before. After hearing this, I added another possibility as to why I’ve gotten the treatment from Best Buy. Maybe I look like someone who may know about technology, so they don’t bother taking the time helping me. Of course, it still doesn’t make sense why a store would not treat every customer, no matter how they look, as potential revenue.

I once brought some friends of mine, young Filipino-Americans, to a nice restaurant in Montecito. Montecito is a very affluent town and not a diverse community. How we were treated was one of the most blatant displays of discrimination. The waiter ignored us the whole time we were seated, and when he attended to our table, the cheery and friendly disposition he treated the other customers, all white folks, suddenly turned to a  look of annoyance. It was a disappointing experience, to say the least. I can cite other incidents similar to this experience as well.

The incidents above lead me to question the motivations behind how I’m treated and the realization and disappointment that I will encounter these situations throughout my life because of how I look, speak, and have a socioeconomic background.

Going back to the incident today, I can look back and either accept the idea that the stranger was just a bad comedian with no ill intent or that his comment was driven by malice. I don’t know his intent, and I’m certainly not going to excuse his action, but all I know is that as the recipient, the impact was not a positive one.