Holding Complexities and Developing Stamina for the Long-Haul

This week’s readings pushed me to sit with some difficult truths about higher education and about my own place within it. What stood out most across all four authors is how much of what we take for granted in universities rests on assumptions that often go unquestioned. Whether it is how we define knowledge, how institutions hold power, how we respond to global crises, or how we try to separate ourselves from systems we benefit from, these readings made me realize that higher education is far more entangled and far less neutral than it wants to appear.

Andreotti, Ahenakew, and Cooper’s discussion of epistemological pluralism reminded me again that Western ways of knowing continue to dominate even when we claim to value diverse perspectives. Their notion of abyssal thinking made me uncomfortable because I could clearly see how this shows up in the institutions I have been part of (Andreotti et al., 2011). We often speak about including Indigenous knowledge or other ways of knowing, yet we expect everything to fit the categories we already use. Their idea of an ecology of knowledges felt like a real challenge. It asks us not to add more content but to question the very foundations of how we define and judge knowledge. This is much harder work, and if I am honest, I have not always slowed down enough to ask these questions myself, nor have I felt ready to do so sometimes.

Baldwin’s analysis of land and university power connected this epistemic critique to the physical world in a way that I could not ignore. His examples of universities functioning as real estate actors rather than simply educational institutions were eye opening (Baldwin, 2023). Reading about land practices in major universities made me think about what happens here in British Columbia, especially with smaller private institutions. We rely heavily on tuition and branding, yet rarely discuss the broader systems that enable us to operate. Baldwin made me think about how institutions can easily talk about social responsibility while benefiting from structures that displace, extract, or exclude. It made me wonder what accountability actually means if the foundation itself is built on uneven ground.

Verlie’s work on climate change shifted my attention from institutions to learners and the emotional realities they carry. Her descriptions of students’ anxiety, frustration, and grief felt very real (Verlie, 2019). Climate change is not just a topic in a classroom. It shapes how young people imagine their futures, their sense of agency, and even their motivation to stay engaged. What affected me most was her phrase learning to live with. It pushed me to reconsider how education frames problems. We often teach as if every issue can be solved with enough analysis and research. Climate change does not cooperate with that mindset. I realized that supporting students in this area is not only about giving them knowledge or skills. It is also about helping them navigate uncertainty without shutting down.

Shotwell’s writing brought all these threads together by addressing something I struggle with personally. Her argument that purity is impossible challenged my instinct to distance myself from harmful systems (Shotwell, 2016). I often want to believe that with the right choices or intentions, I can stay aligned with my values. Shotwell argues that this is simply not how the world works. We are all implicated, whether we like it or not. Instead of trying to escape complicity, she asks us to begin from it. I found this both grounding and unsettling. It reminded me that meaningful responsibility starts with honesty rather than seeking moral distance. For me, this means accepting that my work in higher education takes place within structures shaped by colonial histories, economic pressures, and environmental crises. Pretending otherwise does not help anyone.

As I reach the end of this course, I keep returning to one question. What does responsible teaching and leadership look like within systems that are imperfect and sometimes unjust? I do not think there is a simple answer. But I know it begins with being willing to look closely at the assumptions I hold, the structures I work within, and the responsibilities I carry as an educator on this land. This course has reminded me that real change starts with noticing what we have been trained not to see and choosing not to turn away.

 

References

Andreotti, V., Ahenakew, C., & Cooper, G. (2011). Epistemological pluralism. In M. Spooner & J. McNinch (Eds.), Fighting academic suppression (pp. 59–74). University of Regina Press.

Baldwin, M. (2023). Educational purposes: Nonprofit land as a vital site of struggle. Johns Hopkins University Press.

Shotwell, A. (2016). Against purity: Living ethically in compromised times. University of Minnesota Press.

Verlie, B. (2019). Bearing worlds: Learning to live-with climate change. Environmental Education Research, 25(5), 752–765.