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We think of higher education as protection for our country’s sacred traditions—guardians, really. That includes proper use of language to communicate ideas, especially in formal documents and presentations. I work in institutional effectiveness, or assessment, and I’ve found that certain terms have been co-opted, misused or mangled. I deal with them on a daily basis. Here are five of those terms to consider.
- Continuous improvement. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines continuous as “marked by uninterrupted extension in space, time or sequence.” The problem with “continuous” is that it leaves no portion for error or failure. Academic improvement efforts involve experimental actions, and some experiments fail. When I see or hear the phrase “continuous improvement,” I question the depth of thought. It might just be parroting others. You even could challenge the integrity of the writer or presenter.
The first missed attempt removes “continuous” from being an accurate descriptor, yet I see the phrase “culture of continuous improvement” repeatedly. This year, I imagine every institution in the United States’ reaffirmation application for accreditation will state the oath of “continuous improvement.” All but one of them, anyway. Our institution will be using the term “continual improvement.” Improvement and performance fluctuate, and Louisiana State at Shreveport will acknowledge as much when we tell our story to an accreditation team this spring.
It’s understandable that “intermittent improvement” could cause issues with accreditors. However, you don’t need a perfectly straight line trending up and to the right. You just need a general pattern moving that direction. But what would you say instead of that?
My colleagues from various institutions have struggled with a proper alternative here. “Continual” indicates recurring intervals, so it is an improvement over current practice. You continually get haircuts, but a continuous haircut would alter your life. “Consistent” can work, but you may need to explain the term. Truthfully, the best word choice here might be “perennial,” which “implies enduring existence, often through constant renewal.” It is a formidable task to think of the reactions to this replacement, but it might be nice to document “a perennial pattern of overall improvement.”
- Utilize. At some point in time, someone was trying to sound all smarty-pants and started saying “utilize” when the proper word would have been “use.” I guess more syllables seemed more intelligent. Unfortunately, however, this wording is incorrect. When I write with a pen, I am using a pen. If I use the pen to scratch an itch on my upper back, that is a utilization—I am adding utility beyond the pen’s typical scope of usefulness. If anybody bought their vehicle from a utilized car lot, I have not met them.
Our higher education community determined this was too cool to drop, and now we are redefining the word entirely. The key issue here is the degradation of—and ironic utilization—of the word “utilize.” What synonym covers this word? “I exploited this pen” seems to be the closest. I am looking forward to that wording appearing in future conference proceedings, if only briefly.
- Data-driven. Merriam-Webster doesn’t define this term, but the Oxford English Dictionary describes it as “determined by or dependent on the collection or analysis of data.” The real concern with this is how powerful the numbers are, as opposed to the brains of the researchers, planners and evaluators. If you needed to make a million-dollar decision on your campus, would you want ordinal data to “drive” the decision or inform the decision? That is supposed to be a rhetorical question, but people get “driven” too often. Our public schools stand as examples of the problems this creates.
Data are important, but they should be a tool. It would seem that “result-driven decisions” would make better sense here. Decisions need to be made by humans, who bring innumerable snippets of data with them wherever they go. Data should inform, not decide. Unfortunately, no dictionary I could find has defined the term “data-informed,” although QuickBooks, of all sources, describes “data-informed” as “Considering (not worshipping) data.”
In reality, there is no such thing as “data-driven.” We measure what we see as important, and we make decisions that take those measurements into consideration. All data are dependent on the questions asked of them. We would do well to trust our own brains, educations and personalities moving forward. As Darby Roberts put it, “Don’t be afraid to use your data-informed voice, since data don’t do the talking.”
- FASFA. I often wonder how and when so many people I know throughout the entire education community—from P-K to higher education—have determined that the way to pronounce the acronym FAFSA is “FASFA.” I’ve found this pronunciation in rural, suburban and urban public schools. When we’re recruiting students, parents mispronounce the term. I have even heard “FASFA” from financial aid directors in higher education. It’s ubiquitous to the point that I need to explain my pronunciation at times. This is the most fascinating one of the set. How did it get switched? What was the tipping point that made some of the nation’s smartest people unable to speak a five-letter acronym correctly?
We’re likely too far gone on this one. People will continue to mispronounce it “FASFA.” It would be easier for U.S. Department of Education to change the title of the application. It is troubling to me that the education community makes these decisions based on the people who get it wrong. It’s likely we missed our chance to correct anything with this bomb. Nobody stopped it, though? What?
- Best practice. This final term is personal, and it has always bothered me. From daycare providers to accreditation liaisons, the term is bandied about as though whatever it describes is common knowledge as the best. In reality, it often serves as a mask to cover what is nothing more than a lack of research or unwillingness to change based on the facts. Indeed, “best practice” has provided higher education with some of the very worst ideas. The same people who speak of data triangulation have no idea what that term means—but they know it’s “best practice.”
This term also applies to how to handle other people and how to improve graduation rates. “Best practice” does not offer a panacea for higher education’s issues; rather, it convinces us to avoid questioning the self-appointed experts using the term. Just keep in mind that it is now best practice for many people to pronounce the term FAFSA as “FASFA.”
We should consider other words and phrases—like “assessment professionals” (who does that job for free?) or “fidelity” (did these data cheat on someone?). These are terms that we simply accept at this point, no matter their validity. If we are guardians of knowledge and intelligence, then reclaiming—or at least adjusting—our lexicon would go a long way toward making our guardianship seem more legitimate.
