Growing up in a working-class rural community, I understood that individual, familial, and community functionality were often linked to collective capacity. Families stuck together. Neighbors helped one another. Farmers, gardeners, and hunters engaged in food swaps to generate balanced meals. Volunteers enabled the availability of community services (e.g., fire department) and religious groups. People didn’t give more than they had, but they gave what they could. My family contributed to this functionality, serving the community through many of these avenues. Accordingly, I learned to do my part inside and outside of the home. Then I signed up for multiple volunteer and community service roles as a high school student. This behavior carried on in my undergraduate experience where I oriented new students to campus, participated in shared governance through student government, volunteered in the local community, and advised upper-level administrators as a student representative on university-wide committees. Ultimately, service is what led to my interest in a higher education and student affairs (HESA) career.
The value of service was reinforced during my time as a HESA master’s student. Our coursework affirmed that higher education institutions were structured in ways that required service and shared governance, much like my home community. Our practice (e.g., graduate assistantships, internships) demonstrated how service imparted new skills, offered additional connections, and invited different perspectives into spaces. I was quickly assigned to several service roles and volunteered for others. I viewed service as a way to contribute, to learn, and to belong. My commitment to service continued throughout my 10 years as a HESA practitioner and carried forward when I shifted to a HESA faculty role in 2015.
What some (rightfully) view as dreaded “other duties as assigned” (e.g., accreditation processes, committee appointments, special projects, task forces) or coercive representation (e.g., we just someone from our unit to show up, we need someone with your perspective on this) is often the collective discussion and, ideally, action that helps to create institutional climate and culture. These rooms are where ideas meet implementation strategies, where common issues become policy solutions, and where individuals have the opportunity to turn annoyances into advocacy. Even roles that we are “voluntold” to do and, thus, do so begrudgingly frequently offer us opportunities to advance our knowledge and skills and extend our understanding of institutional inner workings (Ardoin, 2026). As a PhD student, I was informed that I would sit on the University Libraries committee, essentially because none of our departmental faculty members wanted to utilize their time in that way. Being someone with a deep appreciation for and love of libraries but limited understanding of how university libraries functioned, I was likely more of an observer on the committee than an active participant. I was quickly schooled on library budgets, publisher restrictions, facilities maintenance, and space use controversies. The timing of my joining the committee also made me privy to the construction process of a brand new, state-of-the-art library on campus. Was I the best person for this committee? Probably not. But I ensured our department was represented, learned a lot, have a more nuanced understanding of how university libraries function, and am better positioned to both utilize and support campus library services. As a bonus, I got to play a miniscule part in building a new library that benefitted friends who joined the same PhD program years later.
This is not to say that service is without reproach. U.S. higher education was built on exploitative labor (Nash, 2019; Wilder, 2013) and is structurally and systemically dependent on overworking and (often) underpaying employees (ACPA, 2022; Bichsel & Schneider, 2025; Marshall et al., 2016; Sallee, 2021). Essentially, institutions demand and operate on free labor. Further, service is more frequently expected from and performed by employees who are in contingent or early-career roles and/or who hold minoritized and marginalized identities—particularly women of Color—a dynamic Padilla (1994) deemed cultural taxation (ACPA, 2022; Anderson, 2021; Bazner, 2022; Breeden, 2021; Garcia, 2016; Kortegast & van der Toorn, 2018; Marshall et al., 2016). These individuals feel more compelled to say yes to service, out of obligation, fear, or (to my first point in this article) a sense of identity, community, and collective capacity. If you grew up observing service, engaging in service, and understanding the need for service, you (regrettably) might also be manipulated for your commitment.
The Association for the Study of Higher Education acknowledges that service is often “unrewarded and unacknowledged—but it is also so very critical to the functioning of the academy” (Sallee et al., 2025, p. 6). In their Report on the 21st Century Employment in Higher Education, ACPA (2022) named that “doing more with less undergirds the labor of reaching organizational goals” in student affairs (p. 12). This alludes to the additional service expected of staff to ensure organizational functionality, whether that is in the form of interim roles, absorbing responsibilities of unfilled positions, committee memberships, or emotional labor with students. Further, the ACPA and NASPA (2015) Professional Competency Areas for Student Affairs Educators includes service within its Values, Philosophy, and History area, noting the “importance of service to the institution and to student affairs professional associations” (p. 18), with both associations recognizing members annually for such service.
It is evident that service expectations extend across institutional and professional spheres, assuming contributions to the unit, department, college, university, and field and creating a dynamic where “the time allotted by both institutions and [employees] often does not align with the amount of time actually spent” (Sallee et al., 2025, p. 7). Due to finite time and capacity, higher education employees may choose to engage more as “locals,” focusing on their institutions, or more as “cosmopolitans,” focusing on their field (or professional associations) (Gouldner, 1957, 1958). However, Sallee and colleagues (2025) argue that service should not be an either-or endeavor, offering one’s time and talents to either the institution or the broader field. Rather, service should have a both-and emphasis, sharing one’s identity, capacity, and efficacy with both the institution and the broader field. I agree with my colleagues, and it’s a tall order.
I have embraced this both-and service emphasis throughout my career, both as a practitioner (2005-2015) and as a faculty member (2015-present), offering my time and talents to both institutional and professional service opportunities. I seek opportunities where my knowledge and practice can add value to the collective good. A strength of my institutional service is that it has generally aligned with my professional expertise or personal interests, extending the reach of the units I have worked for or inviting me to advocate for things and people I believe in. Additionally, my professional service on the regional, national, and international level has been helpful in not only promoting the interesting work we were doing on campus but also recruiting prospective students and employees to my institutions and being able to offer a broader lens to the campus. In short, my institutional service and professional service have been symbiotic, allowing me to scale campus happenings to national benchmarks and juxtaposing national trends to campus particularities.
The question becomes: how does someone do their “fair share” of service without sacrificing their jobs or—more importantly—themselves in the process? It’s a great question. And one I failed at for a long time, despite the great example my working-class rural home community set for me.
For much of my career, I was a “yes person.” If someone presented a service prospect to me, I took it, both when I wanted to and when I didn’t. As a first-generation college student, I felt like I was playing catch up to my colleagues and should take every chance to learn more. I also felt a sense of duty to do more, to pay forward the ample opportunities I had been given as a student. It didn’t help that I was single and without formal caregiving duties into my late 30s and, thus, often seen as available for extra work, particularly on nights and weekends. If we’re being honest, I also made myself relatively available. However, in the past four years and through becoming a parent, I have learned how to establish better boundaries, more accurately assess my time and capacity, and say no graciously.
Let’s be clear though: You shouldn’t have to get a pet, partner, or time-specific pastime to avoid service getting dumped on you by colleagues. Rather, you should position yourself to engage in service in ways that benefit you, represent your unit, and offer your expertise to your campus and professional communities without feeling overworked or exploited. As Wilson and colleagues (2025) illustrated, boundary setting is a self-preservation practice. As an example, I recently told a colleague I admire that I couldn’t volunteer for a service opportunity they were offering me. Their response was refreshing: “You will find few people who appreciate a good boundary more than me! Thank you for saying no!”
How might you set boundaries around service? I suggest that you start by assessing some data points:
- What percentage of your work time is allotted for service or “other duties as assigned”? You can look at your job description to see if there is a percentage for this work category. If there isn’t, you can ask your supervisor. This gives you a clue about the number of hours you should be spending on this type of work. For example, if service or “other duties as assigned” is 20% of your workload, then you should cap your service commitments at a maximum of 8 out of the 40 hours of your workweek. Because, make no mistake—service is work, even if it involves something you want to learn or enjoy doing (don’t get fooled by a “wolf in sheep’s clothing”).
- What are the unit or institutional expectations about service types/levels? It would be useful to learn whether everyone in your office is expected to engage in a specific number of committees or service appointments. It is also important to inquire about whether people are required, or encouraged, to engage in service at different levels (e.g., unit, college/division, institution, profession). Knowing the requested reach informs how many contributions you can allocate within your available service workload percentage.
- Which type(s) of service are you most interested in and why? Reflecting on what forms of service “fill your cup” and what forms “deplete your battery” is a useful practice in identifying why, how, and where you may want to serve. For example, I thoroughly enjoy being a part of search committees, whether as a member or chair. I like promoting job openings, talking to prospective applicants about the position and institution, meeting colleagues through the interview processes, and playing a role in hiring our colleagues. Other people loathe search committees. Conversely, you may relish the opportunity to join an institutional strategic planning committee in order to help set the direction and goals for the institution over the next 3-5 year term. If I never have to serve in that way again, it will be too soon.
- What are the specific commitments of each service endeavor? Determining the amount of time, level of effort, and collegial encounters attached to a service prospect helps you estimate what it would really mean to get involved. If those details aren’t apparent or aren’t included in the request you receive, ask! For example, a search committee may require time intensity and significant collegial interaction with 10 people over a three-month period, while a strategic planning committee could stretch out over several years inviting interspersed collegial interaction with 50 people and the creation of a report, website, and communications plan. You need to know what you’re signing up for and how it fits into your existing commitments.
- When and how can/will you say no to something that is not of interest or puts you over workload capacity? First and foremost, there will be some service you cannot decline, even if you don’t have interest or capacity. There are realities to being shortstaffed, working on smaller teams, or rotating undesirable tasks that will require you to do some service that you would prefer to avoid. However, that is not the case every time. Sometimes you can ask questions—to yourself and your supervisor—about whether this opportunity is your I heard a keynote speaker once who offered these insightful reflection prompts when contemplating an opportunity:
- Do I need to do it? – this applies to the things you cannot refuse or ones that will position you well for future endeavors
- Do I want to do it? – this relates to your true interest and capacity
- Do I have something to offer? – this questions whether you have expertise to add to the service context
The speaker suggested that all three questions have to produce a yes response for you to agree to take on the task. I often use these prompts myself when a service opportunity arises. I also employ a mantra that my colleague, Dr. Jeremiah Shinn, offered me—and his Division of Student Affairs—several years ago: Do Less Better. We must accept that if we keep piling more and more onto our proverbial plates, they will either spill or break. Resultantly, we should make data-informed decisions about what to keep doing (better!), what to stop doing, and what to start doing (if anything). So as you get new service requests, consider what appointments may be ending that could be replaced or recognize where your interests may have waned and you need to reinvest before you add anything more.
- How is service evaluated during yearly employee evaluation processes? You should learn about what kinds of service, if anything, “count” toward your employee evaluation metrics. Most employees get evaluated at least once a year based on specific categories set by institutional human resources offices. It’s not to say you should only serve in ways that “count,” but you need to concede that if you are compromising other work categories (e.g., assessment, event planning, supervision) that are considered essential in order to engage in service, you are likely doing yourself a disservice. Because make no mistake, again—service is work, and we should give what we can but not more than what we have (e.g., capacity, time).
As HESA employees, we must recognize that institutional functionality is dependent on collective capacity—on service. For some of us, this comes naturally (maybe too naturally) and we need to be proactive in how we navigate service across institutional and professional spheres to optimize our contributions and minimize our exploitation. For others who may be service avoiders or delegators, consider how your approach may be impacting your colleagues, reassess why it is important for you to contribute, determine how you can be an active community member, and contemplate whether you keep asking the same people to give more. Finally, there will be situations where the entire team’s capacity is full and yet another service task still arrives. That is the signal to ponder—is this service necessary? If so, does our team have to be the one to do this? If yes, what can we pause or stop doing that is less important than this new task?
Service is what led to my interest in a HESA career, and in many ways, it is what keeps me here. While my family and home community rooted me in service and my K-20 schooling experience offered me opportunities to enact my abilities, it is my career that has proven to me that commitment to collective capacity can create conditions to change individual lives, (re)shape institutions, shift communities, and bring us closer—whether a millimeter or a mile—to a more equitable world.
Knowing this, my advice to you and to myself is: Don’t give more than you have, but always give what you can. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to share in service.
References
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Sonja Ardoin, Ph.D. (she/her) is an associate professor of higher education and student affairs at Clemson University. She studies social class identity, rurality, first-generation college students, and career preparation and pathways in higher education and student affairs. Learn more about Sonja’s work at www.sonjaardoin.com.