We are, above all else, consumers, and this consumerism shapes the way that Grand Valley operates. The consumerist model is the notion that a consumer’s desires should influence the availability of goods and services. In a university setting, this manifests in the belief that because students are paying for school, they should have a say in the education they receive. While this may seem reasonable, the underlying self-serving culture of consumerism tends to change students’ expectations of education, and in return the university molds itself to match these expectations.

Now, to some extent, this model can be a good thing. It encourages students to identify systemic issues and pressure the university to implement necessary changes, thereby creating a more just or efficient institution. The consumerist model thus requires responsible, community-oriented people, and yet it has the tendency to produce the exact opposite qualities. Consumers have a tendency to confuse the responsibilities of their consumer voices with the egotistical notion that their individual feelings are the highest priority for a service based organization. This results in the restaurant patron who complains to the manager to get free food. Because students have grown up in this consumer-oriented setting and GVSU establishes itself as a student-based institution, students tend to view it as a “service” and place self-indulgent demands upon it.

For example, if you ask a student why they’re at college, they’ll either tell you it’s (1) because college is fun or (2) because college helps you get a job. Very few students can claim that they’re at college for the pursuit of individual growth through rigorous academic challenges without earning an eye-roll. As a result, “enjoyment” and “practicality” become—for students—the highest virtues of higher education.

Unfortunately, the virtue of enjoyment is the root of most student-professor conflicts. For example, one issue in education is the tendency for students to avoid professors who have accents. Last semester, the Lanthorn surveyed students about their experiences in international faculties’ classes. All of them said that the professors’ accents interfered with their education. In a consumerist model, this makes sense. Why should a student pay to be in a class if they can’t understand the professor? It is a professor’s responsibility to convey information clearly to students, and if students can’t understand the professor, then the university is providing poor customer service. Consequently, students dismiss the expertise of the professor or the value of an international presence in the classroom.

A similar phenomenon occurs in the classrooms of demanding professors. Despite the undisputed fact that demanding professors tend to create the most academic growth in students, these professors are often avoided because they are “mean.” If a student-consumer wants to get an A, why would they purposely select a path that makes this product harder to get? As a result, students disregard the value of being challenged and instead seek out classes in which they are entertained. In this context, “boring” is a justified excuse for skipping a class or not doing an assignment, while a Chili Pepper rating on RateMyProfessor is a legitimate incentive for selecting a professor.

Sadly, the virtue of enjoyment is implicitly reinforced by professors. In a business model, you don’t challenge customers, and in a university you don’t challenge the student culture. For example, some professors ask, “Did anyone read the homework last night?,” which legitimizes a student culture that sees homework as too high a threshold to overcome. Anytime a faculty member over-apologizes for an accent or provides catch-up reading time in class, they are accepting enjoyment as a virtue.