Joseph was a high-achieving first-generation student who graduated with honors from his high school. He aspired to pursue medicine but suddenly found himself struggling in his first-year chemistry course. At the end of the fall term, he earned a C. Learning had come naturally to him during high school, requiring little time outside of school. He now needed to learn to study independently but was unsure how to retain information. Writing lab reports was also new to him. Resolved to improve, he met with a tutor during the first half of the spring semester, but when he looked at his midterm grades, his stomach dropped. After all his work, he still had a C. Panic set in as he doubted his ability to pursue medicine. He also remembered he needed to register for fall courses the next week. Unsure how to proceed and apprehensive about his future, he decided it was time to meet with his advisor.
Joseph’s story is a common one. Regardless of our role, we likely encounter students who are anxious about their ability to achieve their educational and professional goals. In one study conducted by Ruffalo Noel Levitz, approximately half of second-year students wanted to know how their GPA impacts their chosen major. Many students face competitive undergraduate and graduate program admission in fields such as business, engineering, law, medicine, nursing, or physical therapy.
An ethical dilemma arises when we must decide whether to challenge or support students’ goals. Our professional values conflict and compete. We aim to be honest, offer proactive support, and promote informed decision-making. However, we cannot predict the long-term future and do not want to unnecessarily limit students’ options or jeopardize our working relationship with them. We also strive to respect their autonomy.
Among the support and resources our institutions provide, vocational frameworks offer distinctive and vital assistance to students who encounter unplanned academic or career changes. Existential questions are entangled in unrealized and unwanted vocations. As Deanna Thompson reminds us, we often help students claim the callings they didn’t choose. Stories from the sacred texts of students’ faith traditions also illuminate that pain, uncertainty, and surrender are common across our vocations. For example, in my faith tradition, Jesus begged God in the Garden of Gethsemane to let the cup pass Him, role-modeling that grief or anguish is a normal, permissible part of pursuing our vocations. Vocational conversations create space for students to make sense of their suffering and calling. (Click here to listen to the episode from NetVUE’s podcast Callings featuring Deanna Thompson, “Callings We Don’t Choose.”)
How We Can Help
We shouldn’t wait for students to disclose that they are struggling. We need to instead listen for unspoken hurt when we engage in individual conversations and offer vocational programming across our institutions to proactively assist these students. In my own dissertation research, students disclosed that they experienced significant distress, depression, and suicidal thoughts when they faced the possibility of unwanted career or academic changes. Few said anything because they were ashamed or embarrassed. None of the faculty and staff they encountered asked about their global well-being. Most of their conversations only focused on institutional policies or procedures. Students were often aware that they needed to change majors or careers, but weren’t sure how to choose an alternative program, which resulted in hopelessness and distress. As one student shared, she was “waiting for the shoe to drop” and knew change was looming but wasn’t sure how to choose an alternative program. She had started to let go of her dreams but had nothing else to hold on to or pursue, suffering silently without a sense of self or future.
By collaborating with early alert or academic intervention teams, we can identify and support students facing unwanted vocational changes. Comprehensive wrap-around support and vocational reflection can restore their well-being. Think about the students in your courses or your advisees who are encountering academic difficulty. Who might be hurting right now and benefit from a caring phone call or personal email to check in? Browse your institution’s mental well-being resources to understand support services you can connect students to in the future.
Lead with empathy if students disclose they are struggling with unwanted callings. Students who were moved involuntarily to alternative majors shared that they responded best when someone instead signaled they cared and saw they were hurting. In my research, a student stopped out but reengaged when a faculty member called him and acknowledged that it was unlike him to miss class. The call let him know that he was missed. Besides explicitly stating that you care, be comfortable with silence. Stay present and create space for students to experience their grief. Strength-based activities or affirmations can restore students’ self-efficacy.
Collaborative vocational programming can also normalize change. Whether it is first-year seminars, introductory classes, sophomore retreats, or capstone courses, we can talk about the common occurrence of shifts in our callings. This reinforces that vocation is not a single decision but an ever-unfolding process. When we introduce the purpose of advising during first-year seminars or program orientations, we can share that we aspire to teach students how to make sense of the feedback they receive and use it to adjust and refine their goals throughout their lives. Introducing the topic universally prevents students from feeling singled out and makes it easier for us to initiate individual conversations later. Social norm campaigns that frame the percentage of students who change majors can dispel misconceptions or stigmatization. Faculty, staff, upper-class students, and alumni can share their call stories or lived experiences, acknowledging that transitions are universal.
Listen to what is lost, left, and found. If students must move to new majors or careers, help them to name what they have lost, to identify what of value remains, and to claim what new opportunities they find. Students often discover that many of the attributes they liked about their former goals remain (e.g., working in healthcare). They can also celebrate new goals that were not part of their former plan or wisdom they gleaned during the transition. Students may express gratitude for drawing close to God or other support outside themselves, learning they did not need to control everything. They might embrace being liberated from performance-based expectations or realize that unanticipated transitions are not as daunting as they first appear. They may also use their disappointments or hurt to enrich their service to others—to serve, in Henri Nouwen’s terms, as a wounded healer—and exhibit greater empathy in their teaching or patient care because of their suffering.
Language matters. As we talk with students about alternatives, we should choose our words carefully. If you browse the literature for students who experience these challenges, you will find we often use language like “plan B,” “escape plan,” “contingency plan,” or “backup plan.” I have mistakenly used this terminology, assuming that students might be more open to alternatives if I frame the option as secondary or only as a last resort. However, as I have listened to students who have navigated such change, I have learned that the language undermines the very multipotentiality or equifinality that we believe is possible. Alternatives are not merely consolation prizes for those who do not secure admission. Instead, we need to acknowledge that students can discover joy through multiple endeavors and that they should remain continuously curious about the many needs of the world. Creation groans loudly for renewal. Opportunities to make a difference abound.
Finally, we need to collaborate with others to continue to redesign our institutions to reduce and remove barriers that our students face. If we simply focus on shifting the aspirations of struggling students, we only maintain the status quo, and in my next post, I’ll explore ways to address this challenge.
Billie Streufert serves as an academic advisor at Dordt University, a faculty member in NACADA’s eTutorial program, and the associate editor of NCDA’s Career Convergence Web Magazine. She’s fueled by (besides coffee) the belief that the world is a better place when everyone has access to meaningful work and study. She enjoys collaborating with her colleagues to foster vocational exploration and engagement. As a first-generation graduate from a working-class family in rural Iowa, she aspires to give back to others like those who supported her. For other posts by Billie, click here.