Yeah, I did it. I registered for an account on Facebook.com. I'm sure I protest too much when I say it went against my instincts and better judgment to do so. Nothing's more embarrassing than a grown-up trying to be one of the kids. But we can't let the students have all the fun, now, can we?
A few of my graduate-school colleagues, now working at other campuses where I rarely hear from them, had already signed up and pestered me to get in the loop. They had misgivings about it too, they assured me, but quickly found that joining led to easy networking and positive interactions with students.
And for what it's worth, I've had more contact with those far-flung former colleagues through Facebook these last few months than I'd had in years before via e-mail and phone.
Facebook allows users to search for other users on their own campus and at other institutions, even at high schools. Some users allow anyone to look at their profile, while others restrict access to those on their list of friends. Inviting a fellow Facebook user to become your "friend" allows that user to view your profile. Accepting an invitation to become friends puts you on your friend's list of friends, and vice versa. Then users can form groups of friends around a common theme, and post messages to each other.
I started off slow, reluctant to get too chummy online with students I would have in my classes next term. I found it easier to banter freely with those who transferred to other campuses. But it seemed hardly worth the effort to cultivate those relationships. At best, what? They might ask me for a recommendation letter? "Sally was an above average student in my intro course, but she's been a terrific Facebook friend since she left this campus!"
The site tracks the number of Facebook friends I have made, which is into double digits, but still well below the typical student user's average. The friend count sounds like an innocent tally, but at times it feels like Facebook is keeping score.
Adolescence was a long time ago. Grad school taught me to relate to others more as colleagues than friends. If I need reassurance of my students' esteem, I need look no further than my course evaluations (Ha!). So my sparse friend count doesn't normally bother me.
But when I first opened my account, it read "You have no friends" at my institution. Such a bold declarative statement has the power of persuasion. The blunt words dug in like spurs, producing a momentary sense of urgency that I do something, anything, to rack up some friends. The moment passed and an adult perspective returned, but for a moment there I was 13 again and on the fringe of social isolation.
Some student users seem to be competing for the highest score. One of my first friend invitations came from a student I scarcely recall from one of my intro classes. Her performance in the class was not particularly memorable. I'm not sure what constitutes online friendship, but I don't think I've exchanged 10 words with her in person. I accepted the invitation and haven't heard a peep since.
That's one approach: Trolling for new friends to invite, on the faintest glimmer of acquaintance, to raise your score. That student boasts several hundred Facebook friends -- some, I hope, on a more genuine basis.
Like a personal ad, choosing the right photo for your profile matters. Unlike a personal ad, you can't fake much. Readers of my profile may have me for a class, pass me daily on the sidewalk, or hear about me through the grapevine. So I can present things they might not know about me, but a phony persona would be a ticket to Poserville.
There's a lot of potential to use a profile as a publicity organ. My profile photo features me in an exotic locale where I recently led an overseas-study trip. Other students have seen the photo and asked when the next trip would be. The more students ask, the greater my inclination to pull together another study trip.
I've also posted pictures of our student majors on research trips and departmental outings. That promotes not only our program, but (I like to think) a sense of the intellectual culture of college in general. It doesn't hurt to put more photos of our students being studious into circulation, since the vast majority of Facebook photos highlight their decidedly nonacademic activities.
Students post ample contact information on their Facebook pages, which has me contemplating other uses, such as tracking down recalcitrant advisees and frequent absentees from my classes. In a pinch, it might help scare up a last-minute babysitter, housesitter, or moving crew. Another means of contacting students can't be a bad thing.
Unexpectedly I found recent alumni of our program on Facebook. They had profiles through graduate school or secondary schools where they work now. I was delighted, because I had no other current contact info for them, and this saved the hassle of going through the alumni office, where records may not be up to date anyway. We want our students to network with recent graduates, and I hope Facebook might facilitate that.
But it can be odd to associate with others through the indirect means of online profile pages.
Some would-be online friends make you think twice. One student failed the same class with me two years in a row, the second time by turning in the same shoddy papers submitted the year before. So I was pleasantly surprised when he issued me a friend invitation. The invite allowed me to view his profile before accepting. A quick glance through his beer-soaked, obscenity-laden profile convinced me I didn't want him showing up in my friends column. Mama always warned about hanging out with the wrong crowd.
To minimize rejection, Facebook does not tell inviters when their invitation has been declined. But it still felt callous to reject the guy, this being the only invitation I have turned down. Suddenly I'm 13 again, only this time as the snooty Mr. Popular: "Friends? With you? I don't think so."
The lessons of after-school specials replay in my mind. If the decent kid (DK) befriended the troubled kid (TK), which way did it go? Was DK a good influence on TK, or did TK lead DK astray? I'm sure I saw both plots play out, on television and in junior high.
It's frankly absurd to imagine Facebook friends exercising much of a good or bad influence on each other's real lives through their online profiles. I'm sure having this fellow as my online friend would look neither good nor bad, but simply absurd -- assuming anyone cared. So I made peace with my decision on grounds of avoiding absurdity.
But I could have just as easily embraced the absurdity to declare it for what it is. One of my students seems to have taken this tack: His profile lacks all detail except his membership in one group, "Facebook is dumb." Other students formed a group to satirize the shallowness of online friendship called, "You're my friend on Facebook, but in public you act like you don't know me."
There is such a thing as knowing too much about your students. One of my Facebook friends is a first-year student who married her boyfriend right after high-school graduation. He went to boot camp and got shipped to Iraq, while she went to college. She's bright in the classroom, but pictures on Facebook show her cavorting like an unmarried woman. I don't know them as a couple and it's none of my business, but I can't help wondering if hubby's ever had a glimpse of her profile.
Is it wrong for the grown-ups to intrude on this student-centered forum?
The designers of Facebook apparently didn't think so, granting access to anyone with an email address in an ".edu" domain. That includes faculty and staff members, even college alumni at a growing number of institutions. That means plenty of parents of students on Facebook.
A lot depends on the reasons for gate-crashing. "Grown-ups" mingling with the "kids" online have to find a balance between staying hip and embarrassing themselves. It's not worth keeping score, or sinking lots of time into your profile or anyone else's.
But Facebook can be a medium for faculty, staff, even administrators, to be in contact with students, and maybe provide a little adult guidance. Individually one faculty Facebooker might not have much influence, but a collective presence could raise the tone and dial down the antics on this increasingly public student venue.
