Pro-Palestinian university encampments have reenergized the conversation around campus activism and reflect the campus protest paradigm: cyclical bouts of non-negotiable demands from student leaders, “statements” from university administration, and aggressive law enforcement “crackdowns.” Although universities claim to invite free expression, they also claim that they cannot let that expression interfere and disrupt the normal campus operations. Ironically, many university leaders have cited “disruption of academic mission” as justification for dismantling encampments, but it makes you wonder: What are universities if not spaces to empower students to ask why, in the face of a problem? What are universities if not opportunities to instill values of humility, empathy, dignity, and humanity within critical thinkers? What are universities if not a platform for debate and dialogue to have beliefs confirmed or challenged?

Amidst contentious relations between university administration and students, as a student myself at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, I naturally asked: where are educators, as central figures of campus communities, in these conversations and in these movements?

I want to preface that this piece is not political commentary nor personal beliefs on the war in Gaza and the tragedy that is devastating communities globally. Rather, it is meant to uplift the perspective of educators (in conversation with myself, a student) to share inquiry about the role of educators and education more broadly in campus protests and activism. This inquiry was grounded in current campus activism, but I encourage you to see this singular point in time as part of a larger movement of student organization, mobilization, and resistance.

In conversation with Jordan Bingham and Jacquie Boggess, educators at UW-Madison and nINA Collective directors, they emphasized a central tenet of our approach at nINA: modeling that another way is possible. In academia, “power” and “voice” are so commonly contextualized as tenure, published research, and intellectual status. In this way, maybe the non-tenured teaching faculty do not have more power than an individual student in a more institutionalized sense, but what Jordan and Jacquie highlight is that there is more to academia than being a professor – it’s being an educator. Their value-informed pedagogies reminded me that educators do have power when they leverage their agency in the classroom to give students tools for deeper analysis and to make students ask why, especially in the context of campus activism.

In this discussion, the distinction between professor and educator is critical because the way in which power exists for an educator is to empower students. For an educator, power might not be the systems level change that students are fighting for. Rather, as Jordan highlighted, it is creating opportunities where “people can figure out what they believe, what is important and where they come down on certain issues. It is allowing students to parse through what is going on in the world, what it means to them and decide how they want to show up in a protest, if at all, and what they believe about it. If that space is created, then you’ve done your job.”

Similarly, if you are an educator, it doesn’t matter what you believe, it’s about offering space for people to talk to each other and to disagree or debate in a way that feels productive. This also means accepting the duality of elevating the voices of those who are not always represented on campus whilst creating spaces for White people and people with dominant identities to make mistakes, recognize and rectify that mistake, and still remain in the community.

Equally as important, Jordan and Jacquie agreed, is the history of protest and the context of resistance that is essential and needs to be protected. As a student, I can name on one hand the number of professors who have named that every and any social change in the U.S. happened because people took to the streets. Bringing that reality to the classroom and putting the campus happenings within a broader historical context can be an educator’s role.

I’ll conclude by offering that educators don’t always have the answers. It humanizes an educator. Jacquie said there are moments of: “Don’t look at me as the final answer. It’s not about ‘yes, you’re right to do this’ or ‘no, you shouldn’t say this.’” It is truly about following the lead of students and navigating discourse. When educators are vulnerable, when they facilitate not dominate, and when they make decisions about respect, “the classroom [becomes more of] a conversation and discussion, which allows people space to think, to come up with new ideas, and to be curious.”

Ultimately, I’ll leave you with this.

If an educator is to truly embody their role, then the classroom cannot be immune to the realities of campus climates, political complexities, nor global crises as they are one and the same. If a university is a microcosm of the broader society, then we should take every discussion as an opportunity to encourage critical thinking, inquiry, and imagination. Perhaps most importantly, if change has only ever been brought about through protest and resistance, then in the midst of campus activism, educators need to be asking who should we be? Not, what should we do?