I continue to read Allison Pugh’s excellent and thought provoking book, The Last Human Job: Connecting in a Disconnected World. Her perspectives feel like a missing piece of a puzzle for me. In my previous post, I began to explore Pugh’s concept of “connective labor,” which can be understood as an emotional exchange between two people that is initiated by one human, results in the other human feeling seen, and leaves positive lasting impacts on both individuals. Some jobs that (when done well) involve connective labor include counselors, nurses, chaplains, and teachers.

In recent decades, connective labor jobs have been bombarded by efforts to ensure efficiency and, as a result, have involved standardization. Check lists, manuals, and rubrics are examples that have influenced a valuing of standardization over connective labor. And, as a result of these systemic influences, connective labor has been rendered invisible and is not valued.

Connective labor feeds the souls of students, as well as teachers. It’s the “spark” that faculty often refer to that they love so much about teaching. It’s what makes students remember educators decades later. And, while this next idea may raise a skeptical eyebrow, connective labor can occur at a distance through the use of technology — asynchronously. For those who teach online and center their imperfections, share their struggles, critically consider their word choice, and intentionally get to know their students as humans, you know how humanizing your teaching results in meaningful relationships with students (and often with more students than a face-to-face classroom). If you don’t agree with me, ask yourself if you’ve had the opportunity to experience an online class (as a learner) that was taught by an actively engaged, empathetic instructor who got to know you, checked in with you, validated your efforts, and challenged you to achieve high expectations while being flexible. If your answer is, “I haven’t,” ask yourself why. And if you are thinking, “No faculty member has time for that,” ask yourself why again.

Connective labor is essential to teaching and is more important to the academic success of students from marginalized communities and for students who learn online. Yet, these same students may be poised to receive their connective labor from bots instead of humans. Pugh points out recent shifts towards boutiquey medical services with high touch care that come with a premium price tag and “harried” primary care doctors whose care is harder to access in person and limited to a number of minutes. Money also buys access to smaller class sizes taught by more resourced faculty. As noted by Jessica Grose, human interaction is now a luxury good and Pugh predicts that we may be headed for a time when those with the financial resources will receive their connective labor from humans and those without will receive connective labor from bots.

As an educator who has served open access and access-oriented institutions of higher education for more than twenty years, I am

concerned about this prediction. Regardless of what your role is in education, be mindful about what AI is used for and what it is not used for. Guide those decisions while keeping human connection at the center — in all course modalities. Community colleges in particular, institutions that serve the largest number of the most vulnerable students, must navigate AI while preserving human-human interaction and capsizing the systemic undervaluing of relationships.

I have a memory of my 8th grade social studies teacher, Mrs. Bennett, that I want to leave you with. I had just turned in an assignment that had me write a story about a personal experience. I think it was the first time I had a teacher who gave me an assignment to write about my life. I loved it. I remember her handing me my stapled binder paper and seeing her handwritten note following my name at the top of the paper that read, “…is a talented writer.” Those four words changed me. As I reflect on my life, I recognize that I had more confidence in my writing than other academic skill as I entered high school and went on to college. And writing has played a big part in my career progression. Now, I know I’m not an English teacher and I don’t have answers to most of the challenges we face today, but I can assure you that a human will not be intrinsically motivated by feedback from a machine. I also know I have a lot of privilege and the power this interaction had on me makes me recognize how even more powerful human interaction is to humans who are used to being left out, scrutinized, and stereotyped because of their identity.