written by: Florence M. Guido
At the ACPA Conference in Louisiana, I was blessed and humbled to receive the 2023 Contribution to Knowledge Award. In my three minute speech at the ceremony, I thanked three generations of family, known for their loyalty, resilience, and determination, who came to New Orleans from Italy in the early 1900’s. In addition, I identified students, and colleagues and friends (many who are both) who helped me become a better scholar and teacher. I feel forever grateful to these mentors and friends, some I’ve known over decades, for their honest feedback, and generous and kind support. In short, I felt it was important to recognize my academic and personal support communities over my career. I was glad I had a public forum to thank the likes of Raquel Wright-Mair, Dawn Johnson, Leilani Kupo, Gabriel Ramón Serna, Gabby McAllaster, Gabriel Pulido, Stan Carpenter, Fredericka Hendricks Noble, Yvonna Lincoln, Dina Maramba, Stephanie Waterman, Michael Cuyjet, Jody Donovan, and Alicia Chávez to mention a few. How lucky and grateful I am to have them and others in my life.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
In the 1950’s and 60’s, I grew up the third child of four in an Italian family who found themselves gathered around the dinner table every night at 6:00 p.m. for dinner which, unlike today, did not include TV (only three channels then), social media, or other forms of distraction. Since we were not allowed to watch TV until the weekend, it was just what the six of us offered each other in the way of a story. Mom would usually ask Dad how his day went and stories flowed freely from him. As the first in his family to graduate from college in the 1940’s, he used his degree from Texas A&M University, to join his father and uncle as a general contractor and lumber dealer with his newly minted engineering knowledge. Pop talked about his interactions and business dealings with laborers, plumbers, and electricians as well as bankers, lawyers, and architects. His sense of humor, honesty, empathy, and humility shined brightly in the tales that rolled off his tongue. In my 20’s, while in college, he became president of the National Lumber Dealers and before his speech to the association, he remarked to me with a tear in his eye, “who could believe that the son of an Italian immigrant could have so much success?” Dad would often ask Mom how her day went too and she would tell stories of creating a library in our parochial school or leading the neighborhood Garden Club. Graduating from Vassar when she was 18 and being accepted to Tulane Medical School in the 1940’s, she gave it all up to marry Dad and start their family. Mom taught me the value of education and, with little exception, have spent the entirety of my life in an educational environment. She would often say to me, “No one can ever take away your education.”
Stories from my Youth
Education can never be taken away from me. As my brothers went on to MIT and Princeton, I went to a uniquely small (about 700 students) women’s college 30 miles north of NYC for my undergraduate degree. I did not score high enough on the SAT to gain admittance to Vassar or Wellesley so I was considered not smart by my two older brothers. Mom wanted to pull strings and get me into Vassar, but I said no. Legacies were hardly questioned in the 1960’s but I wanted to be accepted to college because the institution wanted me or at least thought I was capable of doing the academic work, not because my Mom attended college there. I told her I did not want to spend all my time in the library (although if I had actually seen Vassar’s library, I might have responded differently!) Later, I realized I received a fabulous education at Briarcliff College. Some of the highlights of my undergraduate education included: trips on Fridays to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Museum of Modern Art, Guggenheim, or Cloisters to see the original art I was studying as an art history major; New York and London theater during January term; a brother 90 miles away at Princeton; friends living in my residence hall from all over the country; and only a 45-minute train ride to explore one of the world’s most exciting cities. I was sad when I lost a college internship at the Met to Carolyn Kennedy which likely would have led my career path in the direction of museum administration. When I was told she received it, I did not feel bad about coming in second since I assumed I did not have a prayer anyway. (Years later, I realized how losing this opportunity freed my career trajectory to move in the direction of what I love—student affairs). Fortunately for me, Mary Cheever, author John Cheever’s wife and an accomplished author in her own right, taught the Rhetoric Class I took sophomore year. Mary made sure one of my stories was published in the 1974 Briarcliff Literary Review the year I graduated. My very first publication.
At 18, when I traveled 1,500 miles from home to go to college, I was finally able to explore and be free from the tight reigns of my extended Italian family. I thrived. Education, I learned, is not just what was taught in the classroom but is also what was made available to me through a host of intellectual and emotional experiences, formats, and patterns—a quilted precursor to the first edition of Student Development in College: Theory, Research and Practice (1998). I was not going to miss one opportunity available to me and I jumped in headfirst. Mom was right. No one could ever take away my education. Basically, I kept acquiring currency which would be mine for a lifetime.
Treat all people, regardless of economic, racial, or ethnic status, with respect. My Dad grew up on the westside of San Antonio where the majority of Mexican-American and Italian-American immigrant families lived. When I asked him years ago if he ever experienced discrimination as a kid, he told me once he and his friends were denied entrance to the roller-skating rink in town because of who they were. He and his Mexican and Italian friends vowed then to make something of themselves and rise above this discriminatory behavior. I gathered this was not the only incident, although he never spoke of them to me.
As a child, storytelling around the dinner table (and more importantly always by his actions) made me in awe of my father. He was honest, heartfelt, and kind. Often, he would tell stories about his relationships with the laborers who worked for him, many who were undocumented. He knew their families and cared about them. Twice when I was a child, one of these hard working men died and my father was one of the first to visit the family and offer condolences. When he came home, he was visibly upset by the death on his watch. Later, he visited the widow again to offer all the help he could to the family. In the end, Dad offered me a roadmap for treating all people with respect because they matter, looking beyond their social and economic status in life, and finding a heart that humanizes interactions with everyone around me. Thanks Pop. Beautiful gifts all.
Determination and persistence (not traditional smarts) took me far. The 25-year old me is completely astounded and the right-now me is utterly amazed I have accomplished great things in my professional life. In 2017, I was named University of Northern Colorado’s Distinguished Scholar (chosen by my faculty peers), and in 2023 received ACPA’s Contribution to Knowledge Award. Honors I could only dream of as an entry level doctoral student and student affairs professional. I scored low on the SAT and even lower on the GRE but, unbelievably, was accepted provisionally to the Educational Leadership (with an emphasis in Higher Education) Ph.D. program at Texas A&M. Scared to death of flunking statistics (Remember, I was an art history major at a liberal arts college), I audited an undergraduate statistics class before enrolling in a graduate course. Making friends with a few undergraduates, we set up a study group and began to teach each other. A powerful learning and teaching experience I would incorporate into my own courses when I later believed I could become a faculty member. Although it took me eight years to obtain my Ph.D., I also published six journal articles, served as a graduate assistant for the associate dean, my first co-author, and dean of the college, drove back and forth to Houston from College Station to seek fertility treatment, created a support group for women unable to conceive still meeting today, and happily received a C and a B, respectively, in two graduate statistics courses.
Around 1910, my great-grandparents brought my grandfather to New Orleans from Sicily and eventually moved to Houston where my great-grandfather worked in a macaroni factory. Mom’s large, Catholic extended immigrant Italian family ultimately settled in the Brazos River Bottom. My grandparents were each one of nine and ten children so there were plenty of Mom’s descendants with whom to spend time while at Texas A&M. My grandfather was not alive, but grandma lived two doors down from me when I was a doctoral student, so with gratitude and a smile I would see her often and run errands or do chores for her. I’m sure this is common behavior for ethnic undergraduate and graduate students living in the same community as their relatives. I’ve since learned there are many kinds of intelligence and my gifts, unlike some of my family, lies in areas not measured by standardized tests. Keeping ‘up and at it’ over a long period of time allowed me to accomplish my goals and move forward.
Stories from my Career
Administrator work is often antithetical to equity, diversity, and inclusion goals in the hierarchical, neoliberal academy. In 1970, I was a freshman in college and, with only a year or two exception, attended college or was an administrator or faculty at an institution of higher education until 2018. Alas, I spent nearly 50 years in academic institutions whose white male administrators often treated me as a second class citizen not worthy of the respect or the financial equivalent of white men faculty. In fact, I am one of a handful of faculty I know who had to earn tenure twice and retire as a full-professor grossing far less than my departmental counterparts clearing six figures. When my colleagues of color left an institution which employed me, I was told by the dean that “faculty of color never come to our institution to stay but use it as a steppingstone to a Research I institution.” At the same time faculty colleagues of color were denied research, teaching and other resources, white colleagues were getting institutional monies to go abroad to study whiteness. (Irony is everywhere). Situations such as these may not be so glaring in today’s higher education environments. Yet, limited resources means someone is not getting what they deserve or need to thrive in their administrative or faculty position, furthering the equity and inclusion gaps and harmful competition in the hierarchical, neoliberal academy.
Persistence is the gift that keeps giving. When you believe in something, don’t give up when you are told ‘no.’ As a neophyte faculty member and former administrator, I could not believe I was paid for hanging out at home two days a week reading and prepping for class. In my second pre-tenure year, I was assigned to teach a class in student development theory. Since I had never taken the course, I was madly searching, studying, and piecing together readings from counseling, psychology, counseling psychology, student affairs, and sociology literature among others. At a regional student affairs conference in the upper Midwest a year later, I stayed up most of one evening discussing the course and what students learned with new friends Nancy Evans and Dea Forney. Since there was no textbook for the course at the time, I convinced them to submit a proposal to ASHE for a Student Development reader. Several months later we received a rejection letter clearly stating ASHE did not “publish anything on students.” (ASHE has since published a reader on Student Development). Unbeknownst to me at the time, this rejection became the impetus to write the first comprehensive student development theory text (Evans, Forney, & Guido-DiBrito, 1998) which took us several years to complete. Determined to get it right, I spent a year reading all of Carol Gilligan’s work before writing the chapter on her theory of moral development. Years later I met Carol at an ACPA conference and she was thrilled to receive the book I brought her signed by all three of us. (Soon thereafter, one of her former students told me she thought it was the best summary of her work she had read!) Had we given up, it is likely that someone would have written the first text before we did, but a yes to the reader might have meant we would never have taken the initiative to write the book (and not an edited one either!) To date, I am the only author who has contributed to all three editions.
The best gift I could give students is the opportunity to think critically and creatively. At the beginning of every class I taught for the last eight-10 years I was at the university, I would ask the students, “how long is the half-life of knowledge?” Few would get it right, but at the time it was three to five years. I would say to them, “if one-half of everything you learn in this class will not be true in three to five years, why are you taking this class?” After some prodding on my part, many rightfully concluded I wanted them to learn how to think about issues, where to look for information to help solve problems, and what student affairs and its higher education context can do to make a difference in the lives of the students we serve. Learning ‘how, where and what’ could not be regurgitated to them by their professor or even answered by their peers. Integrated learning such as this is piecing together, through inductive and deductive reasoning (e.g., from many sources, hopefully with a large dose of empirical evidence) to help guide students on their path to becoming effective student affairs leaders sensitive to the needs of a diverse organization.
Regretfully, during my career, higher education moved from a public good to a consumer good and dealing with the ‘how, what, and where’ shifted too. The pandemic complicated these issues and I am afraid students are only learning what is presented in class or texts, but rarely have an opportunity to think critically and creatively about all the intricacy of the issues presented and respond by making lives better for those they serve in neoliberal higher education. As complexity spirals and artificial intelligence and social media enter the academy in full swing, learning creativity and critical thinking and how they intertwine with administration, finance, and student/human development are necessary for the profession to survive to the end of the 21st century.
Create a way to respect and honor diversity, equity, and inclusion regardless of pushback from institutional leaders. Having been a teenager in the 1960’s, I was part of a the “boomer” generation who believed we could change the world. I was privileged to be born into an extended first-generation Italian immigrant family. My paternal grandfather and father were able to create a prosperous life for themselves and their families, and now my brother and his family are continuing this fourth generation legacy. To be male in this Italian family was its own privileged status (Guido, 2013). Early in life I learned the expectation of my primary roles as an Italian female centered a husband and children. Two divorces and a decade of infertility treatment resulting in no children, ultimately meant I did not live up to my Italian family’s expectations.
When I was a doctoral student at Texas A&M University in the early 1980’s, the highest ranking women at the university (which only went co-ed in the late 1960’s) was the head of the Sociology department. As a doctoral student, I wrote every paper for every class on women in higher education. Although my well-intentioned major professor suggested I not test the hypothesis that men were more loyal to their superiors and women were more loyal to their subordinates (and that is why men are promoted in organizations faster than women) because I would be “labeled a feminist and never get a job,” it opened the door to qualitative research for which I am forever grateful. (Ironically, Texas A&M University helped make me the feminist I am today too). However, delving into qualitative research opened me to a world I did not know existed when I began my doctorate. Lucky for me, Yvonna Lincoln schooled me as an eager student and invited me to her home in Nashville for a weekend to soak up her knowledge of everything from split infinitives to a good way to analyze hundreds of pages of data I collected from a month’s stay each on four different college campuses studying loyalty. Instead of finding truth to its smallest measurable component, making meaning of phenomenon was my journey. In addition to a better understanding of loyalty in an organizational context (Guido-DiBrito, Chávez, Wallace, DiBrito, 1997; Guido-DiBrito, 1995) it opened me up to empirical study of women leaders in student affairs (Guido-DiBrito, Nathan, Noteboom, & Fenty, 1997) and Mexican male students and social class (Schwartz, Donovan, & Guido-DiBrito, 2010). These and others led to publication of social science paradigms in student affairs research and practice (Guido, Chávez & Lincoln, 2010), a model of diversity development (Chávez, Guido, & Mallory, 2003), and a photoethnographic, autoethnographic, and ethnographic examination of leadership, culture, and community (Guido & Chávez, 2018). Each study moved me to a better understanding of diversity, equity, and inclusion and how the university, the oldest bureaucratic system in the western world behind the Catholic Church, responded, or better yet did not respond, to change.
I could cite many examples in my own life of how a regional public university dealt poorly with a push toward diversity. Here are two stunning illustrations. I had a departmental colleague say in a meeting after interviewing a biracial candidate for a tenured faculty position, “If we hire them, we will need to hire more like them.” Sadly, the person who made this remark eventually became the college dean. A second example is even more poignant. After waiting for my senior colleague in the department to retire before the end of the last century, in 2000, I implemented an overhaul in the curriculum for the student affairs and higher education program I coordinated to integrate social justice throughout each course from Introduction to Student Affairs to Student Development Theory to the History, Philosophy, and Culture of Students Affairs. I even taught Finance in Higher Education from a social justice perspective as everything students studied in the ASHE Reader on Finance was evaluated by ‘who benefitted and who did not.’ A key to the success of the program was hiring racially minoritized faculty. We ended up hiring three racially minoritized individuals, yet when one left another came, supporting a revolving door. When I approached the dean about giving them more resources and making the environment more welcoming, he replied, “We are just a steppingstone for them to go to a Research I University, so we do not need to invest in them.” I was devastated as I knew building sustainable social justice MA and PHD programs would be difficult at best without faculty of color. Soon, I realized my legacy are my students (e.g., Chris Linder, Dean Kennedy, Bobby Kunstman, Gabby McAllaster, Gabriel Pulido, and Adele Lozano to name a few) out there doing good work, and not the academic program I built. Passing on my knowledge and skills to future practitioners and scholars was a way in which my desire to change the world occurred. Many professionals in the field are motivated by a similar experience.
Stories Post Academy
Traveling and ignoring an academic calendar is sheer joy. Getting on an airplane in the middle of what would be a semester and flying abroad for six weeks is a luxury I’ll likely not experience again soon. After my retirement, my niece married a Frenchman in San Antonio and then again in France. My partner and I left a month early and spent a week each searching known and lesser known sights in Rome, Florence, Venice, and Paris before heading north. After the wedding, we returned to Paris to catch a train to Amsterdam and saw black smoke billowing from somewhere in the city. When we arrived in Amsterdam, we learned that Notre Dame Cathedral was on fire. It was surreal to be in Europe, much less Paris, the day this iconic cathedral almost burnt to the ground. It was strange to experience adventure in early spring when for the last 40 years I was in the classroom. I do, however, recommend travel as a way to uncouple from the university. The biggest decisions we (with my partner) made was where to eat and when. Living life like the Italians and French meant big meals at noon and a nap before going out on the town again.
Giving back is influencing generativity and continuing professional satisfaction. Yes, I am retired, but you would hardly know it by looking at my schedule. Several times a semester I teach a student development or leadership class with one of my colleagues at institutions from Claremont, Syracuse, Rowan, Colorado State, and Sam Houston State Universities to name a few. Even now, after being retired for five years, I officially serve on two doctoral committees and unofficially help others completing their Ph.D. research.
In spring 2020, the pandemic hit and my Dad died in April of that year. Black Lives Matter was gaining momentum that summer and I wanted to serve the greater good. Since my term as an ACPA Senior Scholar had just ended, I decided to apply for ACPA Director of Research and Scholarship after several weeks of encouragement from a few colleagues. The new ACPA governance structure has split the position in two for future Directors but in the meantime consumes a tremendous amount of my time. I also conducted a focus group study of ACPA scholars with the past Director which highlighted the needs of ACPA’s backbone—scholars and scholarship. Keeping up with many of the ACPA publication editors and convening mostly early career racially minoritized faculty to create an ACPA arts-based journal are two highlights of this three year term. Creating an arts-based journal evolved from the focus group data as many scholars of color seek avenues supporting ways of knowing which deviate from traditional methods used in social science research paradigms.
Letting Go can bring sadness and delight. Letting go is a theme of my life post university and appears to have a double edge. On one side is the sadness brought on by losing dear friends and family. Among them is Gabriel Ramon Serna, a 34 year old proud, brilliant, funny queer Latino faculty member, gone way too soon and who taught with me at the same university for two years. As a tried and true post-positivist, he and I would walk through the HESA program hallways and argue about whether post-positivism or constructivism was a more helpful research perspective. (After defending the ontology, axiology, and epistemology of each framework, we usually landed on “It depends on what you want to know.”) Realizing that others were dismayed we were disagreeing in public, we would slip into one of our offices, shut the door, sit on the floor, and giggle. Later, we would let folks know we were good friends and it is okay to disagree. About a year before he passed, we talked about writing a book together on social science paradigms for introductory HESA doctoral students to better understand how research is conducted differently from diverse worldviews. It breaks my heart I will not be able to spend time creating a useful tool with Gabriel for the next generation of scholars in the field. Additionally, even though my Dad was 97, it was hard letting go of him too. When I asked a Catholic nun, who had known my parents well and attended family events and holidays for years why it was so hard to let go, she graciously replied “because you have had him for so long and you are never ready to lose a parent.” Sister Rosita was right and three years later I still mourn his passing.
Letting go of friends and family is hard to do, although they live-on in my heart and will for the remainder of my life. Letting go of the profession I have cradled for decades is a delicate act and one which requires challenging a mind-set intact for a professional lifetime. Recently, I have become determined to cut the ribbon on a new endeavor. In the early 1960’s, when I was 10 years old, I received my first camera—a Kodak Brownie Camera. In 1972, I took my one and only photography course in college and spent most of the semester in the darkroom developing film and printing black and white pictures. In 2000, I received my first digital camera and since then have taken over 300,000 images.
As a visual learner and artist, I find immersion in photographic images inspirational. Patterns and color are particularly fascinating to me as a way of examining the world and, in some cases, keeping an historical record. Focusing on this kind of abstract beauty, in photography or writing, brings richness to the detail of the image or phenomena. The first images I published in higher education were also the NASPA Journal’s first published photographs and were taken in Spain at a NASPA summit of student affairs professionals and faculty (Jablonski, Bresciani, Lovell, & Shandley, 2006). Furthermore, in addition to publishing an article with a colleague on using photography in assessment, my photographs grace the cover of five student affairs and higher education books (i.e., Evans, Forney, Guido, Patton & Renn, 2010; Pasque & Errington Nicholson, 2011; Chávez & Sanlo, 2013; Chávez & Longerbeam, 2016; Patton, Renn, Guido & Quaye, 2016) and two more in the making. I delight in taking images for my own enjoyment but look forward to setting up a website to sell some of my best creations too (no photoshop for me!) Letting go of friends and family is a sadness I will carry with me until the end. Letting go of my 40-year career will open up new pathways for expression and delight in a fractured and divided society.
Writing is a persistent habit and life-long journey. When I was a kid walking to and from the parochial school I attended about a block from the home my grandfather built gave me some alone time. I remember one of those walks. I was about nine years old and kicking a rock, thinking I wanted to write a story, but my life was too short and boring for such a thrilling activity. Innately, I knew writing what I know is the best storytelling, since truth, and fiction too, is best told in the voice of those who experience it.
Now that middle-age is way behind me, it is time to write more stories of my life through a lens that situates ethnicity, gender, social class, and race. To date, I have written two pieces but each is only a glimpse into all I want to say. One chapter is a derivation of the eulogy I gave at my mother’s funeral (Guido, 2011) about the gifts she modeled for me, while the other is an overview of the Italian clans (i.e., all four grandparents are Italian and we can trace the lineage back for at least 150 years) into which I was born (Guido, 2013). I remember asking my mother to read the first draft to see if I had the details correct and if she wanted me to remove anything so I would not embarrass the family. When I asked Mom what she thought about what I wrote, she immediately corrected my punctuation and grammar. I assured her I would tend to those details but wanted to know her opinion of the stories I told about the family. The phone line was quiet. After a long pause she confessed, “I did not know you were paying attention. It’s all true. I would not change a thing.” It was the kind of triangulation that gave me the courage to put it out there for the world and perhaps harder for some of my family to see. Maybe it is a testament to the closed Italian community in which I grew up where every night good food and engaged storytelling went hand-in-hand at the dinner table? Or, perhaps it is the curious observer in me as a child and adult whose ways of operating in the world are watching, learning, and reflecting on how the physical and social world are a precursor to becoming a critical/cultural constructivist?
Truth is… my journey commences.
References
Chávez, A. F., Guido-DiBrito, F., & Mallory, S. L. (2003). Learning to value the” other”: A framework of individual diversity development. Journal of College Student Development, 44(4), 453-469.
Chávez, A. F., & Longerbeam, S. D. (2016). Teaching across cultural strengths: A guide to balancing integrated and individuated cultural frameworks in college teaching. Stylus Publishing, LLC.
Chávez, A.F. & Sanlo, R. (Eds.). (2013). Identity and leadership: Informing our lives, informing our practice. Washington, DC: NASPA.
Evans, N. J., Forney, D. S., & Guido-DiBrito, F. (1998). Student development in college: Theory, research, and practice. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Evans, N. J., Forney, D. S., Guido, F. M., Patton, L. D., & Renn, K. A. (2009). Student development in college: Theory, research, and practice, 2nd ed. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Guido, F. M. (2011). Life stories of the daughter of first-generation Italian immigrants. In P. A. Pasque & S. Errington Nicholson (Eds.), Empowering women in higher education and student affairs: Theory, research, narratives, and practice from feminist perspectives (pp. 163-177). Sterling, VA: Stylus.
Guido, F. M. (2013). Learning who I am and how I lead from a proud south Texas Italian woman. In A. F. Chávez & R. Sanlo (Eds.), Identity and leadership: Informing our lives, informing our practice (pp. 135-144). Washington, DC: NASPA.
Guido, F. M., & Chávez, A. F. (2018). Journey of creation: A photoethnographic, autoethnographic, and ethnographic look at leadership, culture, and community in a young northern New Mexico college. In B. L. Foster, S. W. Graham, & J. F. Donaldson (Eds.), Navigating the volatility of higher education: Anthropological and policy perspectives (pp. 123-154). Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing, Inc.
Guido, F. M., Chávez, A. F., & Lincoln, Y. S. (2010). Underlying paradigms in student affairs research and practice. Journal of Student Affairs Research and Practice, 47(1), 1-22.
Guido-DiBrito, F. (1995). Student affairs leadership and loyalty: Organizational dynamics at play. NASPA Journal, 32(3), 223-231.
Guido-DiBrito, F., Chávez, A. F., Wallace, J. A., & DiBrito, W. F. (1997). Loyalty between senior student affairs officers and their supervisors and staff members. Journal of College Student Development, 38(3), 244-253.
Guido-DiBrito, F., Nathan, L. E., Noteboom, P. A., & Fenty, J. E. (1997). Traditional and new paradigm leadership: The gender link. Initiatives (Journal of the National Association of Women in Education), 58(1), 27-38.
Jablonski, M. A., Bresciani, M. J., Lovell, C., & Shandley, T. (2006). Shaping student affairs leadership through global perspectives. Journal of Student Affairs Research and Practice, 43(1), 183-202.
Longerbeam, S. D., & Chavez, A. F. (2016). Going inward: The role of cultural introspection in college teaching. Peter Lang, Inc.
Pasque, P. A., & Errington Nicholson, S. (Eds.). (2011) Empowering women in higher education and student affairs: Theory, research, narratives, and practice from feminist perspectives. Sterling, VA: Stylus.
Patton, L. D., Renn, K. A., Guido, F. M., & Quaye, S. J. (2016). Student development in college: Theory, research, and practice, 3rd ed. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Schwartz, J. L., Donovan, J., & Guido-DiBrito, F. (2009). Stories of social class: Self-identified Mexican male college students crack the silence. Journal of College Student Development, 50(1), 50–66.
About the Author
Florence M. Guido (she/her) is ACPA’s Director of Research and Scholarship, recipient of ACPA’s 2023 Contribution to Knowledge Award, and a co-author of ACPA’s A Bold Vision Forward: A Framework for the Strategic Imperative for Racial Justice and Decolonization. Active in ACPA since 1976, she served as a Senior Scholar, received the Annuit Coeptis (first woman to receive both junior and senior awards), Diamond Honoree, and Wise Woman awards, and appointed the first Senior Scholar for the Standing Committee for Women. Guido is Professor Emerita at the University of Northern Colorado where she also received the 2017 A.M. & Jo Winchester Distinguished Scholar Award. (Contact her @ Flo Guido Consulting [email protected])