"It might just look like a tiny starfish pin. But to me — and to the students I hand it to — it represents something so much bigger. It’s a reminder that leadership isn’t always loud or grand or headline-worthy. Sometimes leadership looks like kindness. It looks like encouragement. It looks like showing up for just one person, in just one moment, and making a difference that only they may ever fully understand. We may not change the whole world — but we can change someone’s world. And that’s the heart of what student leadership is all about."

Effective leadership in student affairs relies heavily on emotional intelligence (EQ), which enhances decision-making, team performance, and organizational culture. Leaders must cultivate self-awareness, manage emotions, and foster empathy to create trust and collaboration. Prioritizing EQ is crucial for retention and well-being, making it a foundational skill for impactful leadership.

Perhaps it is because I have a two-year old and I read children's books every night for bedtime, but I've been thinking a lot about storytelling lately. It could also be the data nerd in me. In a world increasingly shaped by data, dashboards, and strategic plans, it’s easy to forget that behind every metric is a human story. For institutions committed to public service—whether in education, government, or the nonprofit sector—storytelling is not just an art form; it’s a leadership practice.

Scott Parker’s (March 28, 2025) article, “The Only Reason to Go to College”, published in The Chronicle of Higher Education, is one of the most honest, human reflections I’ve read in a long time. His words resonate deeply with me—not only as someone who once stood in a philosophy classroom pondering life’s big questions, but as a student affairs professional who now walks alongside students grappling with questions of purpose, survival, and identity in a system that increasingly treats them like data points in a labor pipeline.

What if “maybe” is the key to helping students grow? Explore how possibility can reshape student leadership and learning.

The word no ends conversations. It closes doors. It tells a student — or a colleague — that there’s no path forward. And yet, so often, that no is based on systems or assumptions we’ve never challenged. A form, a deadline, a requirement — something that feels immovable until someone dares to ask, why not?