The other day after Leadership Connect, I found myself standing on the corner of Hudson Street with a friend for over an hour. There was more than enough content for us to talk for hours, so knowing that, we decided to call it quits early.
For those of you who aren’t club presidents or treasurers, Leadership Connect is essentially a Saturday retreat mandated for club presidents and treasurers to attend, organized by the SGA and the Office of Student Life. They go over basic stuff like who works in Student Life, provide some updates on new initiatives they have, how to request money and hold an event, etc.
When I first arrived, B 118 was crowded. Not too loud, because who has that kind of energy on a Saturday morning, but there was some conversation. While I did know many faces in the room, there were just as many faces that I didn’t know. I killed some time looking around the room trying to guess which clubs people were a part of, and I couldn’t help but wonder, where did all these people come from?
My hunch was that many people there were underclassmen who were forced by someone older to attend the event on their behalf. To me, this not only makes sense, but is really smart. The topics covered in this event are actually perfect for new e-board members who haven’t done any of this stuff before, and really lays down the foundation for students to succeed at running a club — stuff I wish I knew when I was a sophomore, serving on my first e-board.
My friend and I, in typical senior fashion, were ranting for a bit and questioning why we even had to be there. That conversation quickly spiraled into questioning the “leadership” of all these supposed “leaders.” Where are all these people when it comes to standing up for important campus issues? Why is the SGA struggling to get senators who will advocate for students, when there’s a room of 200 “leaders” attending their event?
The truth lies in the broken definition of a student “leader” at Stevens. Anyone who is on a club e-board, regardless of the club’s state or activities, is considered a “leader.” It doesn’t matter why they’re holding a position, or which position it is; by doing something on campus, you’re celebrated as someone on campus. It certainly doesn’t help that there are hundreds of students who do nothing on campus except hit the books.
Most people, even those I consider student leaders, are too afraid to speak out and get the things they want done. We see it all the time at The Stute — they’re the best source for an article, but they’re too afraid to have their name in a comment. They want to stand out, but not that much. They don’t want trouble with administrators, they just want the e-board title and experience for their resume.
These people will say things like, “spread love, not anger” and “if you don’t like Stevens, transfer.” They’ll even call us mean for pointing out and publicizing problems on campus. Sorry, but ignoring and denying problems doesn’t make them go away. Campus is still a construction zone, and is probably going to stay that way for the next 10 years with all the ambitious, debt-creating projects Stevens is committing to building. Students still have no access to printers on campus and senior design classes are still homeless. Kids in cultural orgs don’t have on-campus closets and have been storing their clubs’ inventories in their own apartments for almost a year now.
I once wrote in a column, “I guess that, as a freshman, I don’t know much. Upperclassmen always have a lot to say about school politics and administration, knowing all the secrets of the past or whatever.” It’s so funny to think in three years, indeed, that came true. It doesn’t mean I don’t love being a student here. I have a lot to say and I’m passionate about student issues, because some part of me still thinks there’s hope to make the school even better than it is.
I’ll wrap this up with one of my favorite analogies about leadership. I came across it my freshman year and have held it close to my heart while working for The Stute: “A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” I don’t know if I’m a good leader, or if I’ll ever be one. But one thing I know for sure, is that good leaders aren’t complacent. Just like good captains, they don’t sleep when the ship is going through a storm and they take responsibility if the ship sinks. They take risks to reach treasure, and they teach their crew everything they know. When they finally reach their destination, sure the treasure is good. But the safety and happiness of their crew relishing in success hits even better.
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