Chris Gray, Ph.D.
Founding President, Erie County Community College of Pennsylvania
One of my favorite things to do when I need to take a moment to think is to sit and watch the water. From the time I was a small child, I found comfort in the water. The sound, the undulation, the variations in color from blue to gray. Water has always been a way for me to feel connected to something in the natural world. There is a beautiful sameness in the water. When I need space or peace - even now - I go to water.
There are lots of metaphors to be made here about still waters running deep, things that live beneath the surface, etc. Perhaps that's where the appeal of water has reached me most fundamentally: there's always more going on than what you can see. Water is life-giving, but it's also potentially lethal. Water is fundamental, but it's also very fragile. It is both/and. It moves, and it is still. The same body of water one day can appear drastically different from the same body of water the next day or even the next hour. It's alive.
The idea of higher education as water is something that I've been pondering lately. This is an imperfect analogy, but I do think it works. Hear me out. More than 3/4 of our planet is comprised of water. Water holds the shape of its container. And as we recall from science class, water in liquid form is a fundamental support of human life.
It's this last attribute that I think best connects to my title here. Higher education really is like water. I believe it is fundamental – that, like water, it needs to be available, affordable, and accessible to everyone. And what we see and hear about higher education in the news and popular media is not unlike sitting on the shoreline, looking out at the surface of a body of water. We think we understand what's going on, but most of us have very little understanding about what is happening beneath the surface. It's a world that is so fundamentally different from that which we normally inhabit that we do not know what we do not know.
Mid-January sees us here at EC3 gearing up to welcome another group of new students to join us, and I believe they come to some degree because they've seen that surface, and they know there's something there beneath - even if they cannot conceptualize exactly what. They know its importance in the same way that early settlers in the United States knew the importance of building settlements along rivers and lakes. This is where it starts. It's a place to begin.
Our mission, of course, is to render this body accessible to all who want to investigate its depths. Not everyone wants to know what's there, and not everyone needs to. But in cases where people have been denied, building public access becomes much more important. I believe this with all that I am.
The other morning, I watched an ice skater out practicing on a newly frozen body of water. His movements were fluid, and he moved without fear. Ice, especially at this time of year, is fragile. What looks solid could turn treacherous. A tiny crack – unseen – could lead to something much bigger and more dangerous. If the skater had focused on the potential for cracks, however, he would've missed the opportunity to enjoy the quiet stillness of a frozen lake all to himself. He took the first step, tested the ice, and pushed off.
I think that, in many ways, community colleges offer a place for students like that which this lake offered that skater. We provide the opportunity for students to try something scary. It's unknown. And for many, it feels dangerous. It's dangerous to want something more. It's dangerous to want something better. It's dangerous to take steps to leave a life that is familiar in pursuit of something else.
And while everything could go wrong, what if it doesn't? What if it goes right? What if the ice is perfectly frozen, and our skater is afforded the opportunity to practice his double axel until he masters it? What if he practices again and again, and through that practice and repetition, he becomes something other than what he ever imagined himself to be? I think that's what we offer. We offer a chance to try, and we offer an opportunity of transformation.
There is a relative safety that we offer as well. My skater was practicing his moves on a body of water that is quite small. He wasn't out on Lake Erie, but he was readying himself for something bigger. EC3 offers students a chance to try something new close to home, where they have support systems, and where they know their community. From here, they can push off in many directions. And there is always something more. Regardless of what we see, there's always something else.
Education is always changing, and like water itself, looks different every day. For me, that's part of what makes it magical.
Our community: your college.
