Leadership should be based in selfless service

Hunter S. Thompson once said that politics will turn you into a cynical misanthrope. The farther I get in life, the more I find myself having to agree with him.

I served on Student Senate last year, and while the majority of this year’s senators assumed their offices by petitioning the senate itself, I did it the old fashioned way. I sought election. I petitioned to be on the ballot as a senator at large at the end of my freshman year, Spring 2012.

I collected signatures from friends: communication arts majors, ROTC cadets, and my fellow Veterans. Those were  students that I thought I could best represent, but I made sure that they were not my exclusive constituents. Once I collected the signatures, I turned my petition in to the chief justice, and I was placed on the ballot.

The election came, and The Eagle reported on April 26, 2012, that only 179 students voted. Twenty-two of those ballots were filled out incorrectly and were cast out. It was apparent to me that I was elected by a handful of students who had more-than likely stumbled into the voting booth and checked my name on accident. But hey, at least I was elected.

Once I was sworn into office, I volunteered to sit on the academic review committee, an assembly of faculty, students, and administrators that approve and deny the courses that CSC offers.

Because I was only a sophomore, my eligibility to sit on that committee was called into question, but I referred to my credentials as a Veteran, and my appointment was approved. I felt by volunteering my insight, I could make things better for students.

I admit that I wasn’t very knowledgeable about education or the accreditation process, but I found my niche on the committee. I flagged policies that I saw as potentially detrimental to students, and when I saw things that hindered the ability of students to access education, I felt the obligation to let people know about it.

A prime example was a mistake the committee made when it approved the requirements for FYI courses. If you failed an FYI course, the policy was that you couldn’t take another FYI course to replace that failing grade. Some of the committee members had said that was the student’s fault, and that that was not their problem. I strongly disagreed.

Since most FYI courses are six credit hours, if you failed, you would then have a six-credit hour F on your record.  That F would hurt your eligibility for financial aid, and since the courses were on a two-year rotation and are required for freshman, you would be left out in the cold until your junior year before you could re-take that course.

I felt that policy was inherently unfair and that it would be potentially devastating to struggling students. The following week, I voiced my concern to the senate body and heated discussion ensued. The next week when I reported back to the committee, they heard the student concerns, and agreed to change the policy. That’s no longer news, but it’s a back-story to give credence to what I’m about to say.

My motives have never been intentionally belligerent or self-aggrandizing. I saw it necessary for me to be a servant because I was accountable to the people I served. After all, where would a college be without students?

The GI Bill paid my rent, and I earned the luxury of not having to find a full-time job. Rather than resting on that luxury, I felt obligated to devote my time and talents to my fellow students. I received no compensation and I reaped no material benefits, but I still felt satisfaction in knowing that I made a difference.

You can only learn service through being a servant. Leadership conferences will never teach you that virtue; being a servant is often a thankless job, and despite the sense of accomplishment that I gained from my time on senate, I have a military-bred tendency to take service too far.

By March, my grades were slipping, I was stressed out, and I had to cut back on my obligations. I resigned from the Senate after spring break and focused on my education.  I thought once I resigned, I could turn my back on politics and finally return to being a normal college student. I was wrong.

When Aaron Prestwich dissolved the Senate Finance Committee last year, I was working as the opinion editor for The Eagle. I found myself thrust back into the fray, and I couldn’t simply ignore politics. It’s the mafia cliché, “Just when I thought I was out, they keep pulling me back in.”

I now attend senate meetings on a fairly regular basis, so that I can observe and be informed. From what I’ve seen, the new crop of senators has volunteered because they were asked to be involved in student government.  However, the act of that involvement alone does not entail the act of service.

From the last few meetings, I’ve heard senators from dorms and academic schools give “no reports.” I’ve heard senators express more interest in banquets and professional attire than actually doing work. And the most ironic statement of all: I have heard the president and vice-president relay inaccurate information that they learned at a leadership conference.

Those who seek public office should have the desire to be a servant to his or her constituents. True servants demonstrate their leadership through service and refrain from helping themselves to the perks of their position.

If you think your service puts you above those you serve, you are wrong, and anyone advising you otherwise has clearly given you bad advice.