On Student Autonomy and Voices: Open Letters from the Quest Editors
Dear Readers,
As a senior, I have spent four years here, always with a bit of fear that I’ll come back to Reed and it will be in a worse state than the year prior. When I first arrived in 2021, upperclassmen told me, “You’ll like it here—the culture will always work in your favor.” To some extent, I have felt that. But I have also witnessed countless protests where student voices were not heard. Decisions about new hires have left students uncomfortable, and some students have even had to leave after reaching out for help from the administration and not receiving support. I have seen staff who genuinely advocate for us, only to be silenced instead of supported. This year has been the hardest yet in terms of these challenges. As a senior, I want to leave knowing that new students will be able to experience Reed like I have, but even better.
Taking away SB Info was one of the oddest and most harmful decisions I have seen at Reed. SB Info allows students to promote their clubs and events and provides a way to reach a significant part of the community. Without it, students are losing a key outlet to connect with others, and thesis students, who often need volunteers, are missing an important platform to spread the word.
As an editor, I want to encourage more students to share their opinions about the decline in student autonomy. A constant question I ask myself is: Why is this happening? What’s the real harm in letting students have a voice? If I could get a real answer, rather than being told to take it up with Public Affairs, I might be more inclined to give the school the benefit of the doubt. Student autonomy relies on the mutual respect between both the students and the administration.
The school prides itself on creating a space where students can grow academically and socially. In my time here, I have definitely been able to explore all corners of academics, but socially, as part of the Quest, I have had to laugh and say, “Maybe this is the week we’ll get sued.” All we can do is joke. We aim to bring the student body the information they need, but it’s difficult when we’re warned to “be careful” in our reporting, even though we always work to handle news with care. We’re journalists, and we consult a lawyer if necessary. Some of us want to make journalism our careers, and we follow every story thoroughly and fairly. As much as I have grown here, it doesn’t feel right to be told to be “careful” when we’re just reporting the truth and reaching out to all sides when necessary. The traditions of this school are built around students autonomy without open dialogue with decisions being made the students are left in the dark and confused. Administration needs to understand that we are all incredibly in tune with how this school works. Don't lie when decisions are made, tell us. Let us talk about it. That’s what Reed is all about.
Student autonomy is essential at any college, and Reed has always been a place where students could speak out and expect to be heard. This year, I feel less confident in saying that, and sadly, since this is my last year, I won’t know how things will unfold. I hope incoming students will be told about what the school is now and what it once was.
Students need avenues to express themselves. Without that, this isn’t the school I signed up to attend.
With hope,
Anie Kotha ‘25
Dear Readers,
While the capitalist world-system continues to burn the planet around us with ever greater viciousness, this semester on campus has paradoxically been much more restive than usual by Reed standards. Perhaps taking advantage of students’ apparent political exhaustion, over the past several weeks Reed administration has escalated its longstanding attacks on student autonomy by restricting email circulation of SB Info, preventing the publication of the Missed Connections, and taking down posters advocating resistance against Reed’s financial and academic complicity in the military-industrial complex. Student Body Government officials who wanted to speak out on the restrictions against SB Info say they were threatened with legal action if they publicly provided specific details about the Office of Student Life’s decision-making and policy enforcement, leaving the Reed community in the dark and limiting the student body’s ability to resist the changes. As reported in this week’s Senate Beat, Student Life is now “interested in establishing standards and regulations for student posters and flyers,” which can only be interpreted as an effort to further restrict student political speech.
Restrictions on student speech go beyond just constraining our self-expression. As I wrote in the Quest’s message to contributors in the immediate aftermath of Andee’s announcement that SB Info had moved to Google Docs, “Admin reviewing SB Info or any other student body publication would materially harm students by inhibiting our capacity for collective action, and is a violation of basic democratic principles, including those that Reed was founded on.” Restricting students’ options for and access to speech lets admin do pretty much anything it wants with minimal organized opposition, and frees them of the burden of dealing with a student body that can define the conditions of its own legibility. With no SB Info, MCs, or posters, admin will only need to deal with students’ views in engineered committees, focus groups, and surveys where the conditions of engagement and the range of possible expressions are already determined – barring the Quest, of course, if people bother coming to Contributors’ Meetings.
At the same time as they crack down on student speech, Reed’s administration continues to invoke the notion of “student leadership” in public communications. Referencing Peer Mentor Program, Orientation & Wayfinding Leader, and Interconnect Mentor roles supported by the Martha Darling ‘66 donation, Karnell McConnell-Black told the Quest on October 18, “These opportunities aim to cultivate leadership skills and empower students in formal leadership capacities.” Admin’s professionalized view of student leadership is not one in which students have the possibility, and responsibility, of choice in their own lives. McConnell-Black’s denotation of leadership as a “skill” which students learn at Reed and later apply in the so-called real world of their careers constructs Reedies not as an autonomous group collectively exercising control over their own lives, but rather as future business executives and nonprofit industrial complex board members. Presumably, they will “lead” people who did not have the opportunity to attend Reed and learn “leadership skills.” Admin does not envision “student leaders” who would be “empowered” to, say, implement demands for divestment from Israel.
I don’t think Reed administration would object to the above characterization of their views on student leadership; I’m not even sure if they’re reflexive enough to figure out why I seem to be saying it like it’s a problem. In case not, I want to be clear that this isn’t why I came to Reed, and it’s not a vision of student power consistent with Reed’s historically stated mission and values. Reed offered a vision of a college where students are treated as co-creators of knowledge rather than empty vessels waiting to be filled with information, and corresponding with this academic goal, co-creators of themselves and the conditions in which they live and learn rather than consumers of a product.
Reed’s administration wants to follow the rest of higher education in the US by emphasizing the return on investment of a Reed education over the possibilities for creative forms of student expression and organization, but demanding that Reed students keep the academic rigor and lose the control over their own lives is a surefire way to stop people from going here in the first place. Recently, a student worker involved in research on Reed’s donors told me that they don’t believe Reed will exist in 10 years if it continues on its current path, and while they were being deliberately hyperbolic, I do very much think Reed can’t continue to justify its absurd existence if it doesn’t gain back some respect for students.
In solidarity,
Louis Chase ‘26
My dear student body,
From the very beginning of my time at Reed, I have loved being a student here. I take pride in saying that I go to Reed College, as it is a place where I have found an incredible home, community, and a place that has expanded the way I think and interact with the world exponentially.
One of the things that drew me to Reed was the ability to make close connections with students, faculty, and staff. This was something I looked for during my college search, and this, on top of being able to stand out in a community that nurtured and supported me as a student, was something that I have always been grateful to have at Reed. Further, this is something that, as a small liberal arts school, staff and faculty have the unique ability to do, vehemently supporting their students as much as they can, and working in tandem with them as opposed to not with them at all. This is something that so many students look for when they come to Reed: Somewhere to be an individual, not just fade into the background as one can do at a larger school. I have been able to do this myself, as an editor at the Quest, and am so grateful that Reed lends itself to opportunities like this.
What I have witnessed during my almost four years at Reed, though, is a frightening shift in the support of students and their autonomy. Students and even staff do not feel as though the administration has their best interest in mind. There have been countless examples of administration trying to stifle student voices, or even steamroll over the dedicated staff of Reed. From changes in the staff pay scales, the moderation of SB info, restrictions to art at Renn Fayre, to the recent shift in writers at the Quest being sent to talk to Public Relations when asking questions about various articles, and so much more, so much of the existing soul of Reed is being stripped away. In talking to many of my peers, we can all agree that we feel as though the administration is actively working against us, they do not wish to support us, and instead are attempting to take away much of what makes Reed, Reed.
This is an issue that we, as editors, felt the need to speak out against. On a platform such as the Quest, we are in a unique place as a student-run organization, not moderated by any higher-ups who might attempt to suppress student voices or take away our institutional memory. We have seen what Reed used to be, and the potential that it has to be again. As someone in this position, I urge you to please, let your voice be heard. Put up posters, write for the Quest, make new traditions at Reed, participate in old ones, talk to alumni, protest at Eliot Circle; do whatever you can to stop Reed in its current path of fading into obscurity. While I fear for the future of Reed, that it may become like so many larger institutions and become corporatized and soulless, I also believe in the student body’s ability to fight against it. We have power and voices, and we make Reed what it is.
With power,
Madeleine Voth ‘25
To Reed Administrators:
To transfer across the country to a different school is never a decision made lightly, nor is the decision to transfer to a college like Reed, whose reputation, for better or for worse, precedes it. I chose Reed because it seemed to me that Reed would offer me the autonomy and opportunity to find my path in life, and I knew that by choosing Reed, I would not be choosing the easy way toward an undergraduate degree. It seemed that as a Reed student I would be considered as a full person, whose thoughts, feelings, and opinions were worthy of consideration and respect, even at a young age and still well in the process of personal and intellectual development (as we should really aim to always be, regardless of age). I came here because I knew I would not be babysat or coddled by my professors or by the administration, that by coming to Reed I would accept responsibility for myself and my education, and I would grow immensely as a person because of it.
It’s troubling to me to see that only in my second year at Reed such a profound shift in the administration’s approach to student autonomy and voice. Coming to Reed has been a challenge. Adjusting to the course load, the culture, and the climate is not a walk in the park. Still, I would make the same decision over and over again if given the choice to redo this past year and a half. At Reed, I actually learn something every day. While it might seem like that’s the bare minimum for a college, my friends at other schools do not say the same. The work, although there is a lot of it, is meaningful. I am thankful that I have professors who care about me. More often than not, if I see a professor in passing, they will stop to talk to me about whatever is on my mind. I have had great by-chance conversations, such as standing outside the chemistry building talking about the distinction between analytical and continental philosophy; or even just today, one of my professors saw me by chance in Paradox, sat down with me, and talked about my recent essay, remembering and talking about what was strong and weak about my argument off the top of his head, even though he was not obligated in the slightest to take time out of his day to do so.
Throughout my life, I have felt as if I would never find a place where I could fit in. It may seem trite or overdone, but it’s true. At Reed, I have learned that ‘fitting in’ is overrated. ‘Fitting in’ requires a desire to conform, and conformity is a form of inauthenticity. At Reed, my ideas are considered for what they are, not just who they are attached to. I have found that my peers are willing to engage with me and my thoughts, and form their own opinions about what I have to say, even if my ideas deviate from what others believe. While I no longer care so much to ‘fit in’ as I spent years of my life trying to, I know that I have a place in this school as a Quest editor, a peer, and a friend, and that I have found a sense of belonging that I have not once before found. I am incredibly honored that I have the opportunity to serve on the Quest, which seems to be one of the few outlets left for student voices to be (largely) unrestricted, arbitrated by peers who care and understand the place that writers are coming from. Even though I jokingly call myself Piper “We Can’t Print This” McKeever, I do think one of our strengths as a team is that we offer writers real feedback, work with them on their writing for as long as is needed to create a well-crafted, thoughtful, and rounded argument within a reasonable journalistic standard. I take pride in what we publish because although I don’t always agree with what’s said, I know that the writer’s idea is worth publishing and considering, and that’s greater than just what I believe.
I think Reed should follow a similar philosophy, rather than be intimidated by student opinion. I think it’s also notable that I, of all people, feel compelled to write a letter such as this. While I am an editor, oftentimes I stick to editing and making the crossword or entertainment writing, but not for lack of caring about events and goings on. Mostly, I don’t always feel like I’m the most qualified writer for the topic. In writing this, I hesitate to invoke my transfer student status again, but as someone with an outside perspective, I think I have even more reason to believe that Reed is an incredibly special institution, whose history is worth preserving, and with a mission that’s worth persevering.
I often joke that my last school read as if it was an all-girls boarding school, and really, I think that my statement still stands. To me, the majority of the student body seemed disaffected at best and apathetic at worst. There was little passion from the student body, scarcely any school spirit. Sometimes I felt like the only person in the room who wanted to be there. There was no semblance of “institutional memory” being spoken of by my peers. Why should they be passionate when the administration is unreachable, some looming cloud that did not seem to have a regard for student voices or opinion, shutting down my department without so much as informing me ahead of time (outside of some forewarnings from rogue professors) before I read it in the Boston Globe? When something as simple as a single poster that did not have a literal stamp of approval from the administration on it would be swiftly taken down? We cannot take what makes Reed Reed for granted. I have been on the other side: the grass is not greener.
I deeply worry about a Reed that lacks the student autonomy that it is best known for. I do not want Reed to be spoken for by an administration who does not know what it’s like to be a Reedie, or what it’s like to eat, sleep, and breathe this community. I do not want Reed to be spoken for by people who do not sit in the classroom, day after day, interacting with the students, the professors, and engaging in the discussions that this school prides itself on. This isn’t to discredit the administration’s role. I am grateful we have an administration who wants to see Reed thrive, even if I believe the method is misguided. But the fact is that Reed isn’t the facade of ODB or a still-image of smiling students on a webpage. It’s imperfect, and it has to be. We don’t learn as people or as communities if we do not make mistakes to learn from. This is the same principle that Reed was founded on, to foster a community of people who are dedicated to truly learning something and learning it deeply, not just finding the easiest path to a transcript full of As and a degree. I knew that I would have to work hard, and that I would be rewarded if I did.
Hiring stand-up comics is not going to erase the fact that our student body president can’t effectively communicate with the community they were elected by. Renting petting zoos won’t distract us from the fact that the MCs are in limbo, making a long-standing forum for discussion suddenly silent. I understand that listening to student voices is hard work. I know that it is not easy to be a Reed administrator when all of your words and actions are under a microscope, and students are ready to critique or criticize your every move. But the administration isn’t alone in that feeling. Even I, as an average student on campus, know how that feels. However, that’s a part of what it means to be in a community that cares; we struggle with each other and we are better for it. I repeat the maxim over and over: what is worth it is never easy. Stifling student voices is the easy way out from accountability, killing the very spirit Reed has been long known and sought out for in the process. Is it worth it? I cannot think of a compelling reason to think so.
Students need to be able to express themselves through the avenues long-established, including good-old-fashioned paper posters, which are also now in jeopardy amid the ongoing pause of SB Info and the MCs. I know the idea of Olde Reed being dead is mantramic, but I have, up until now, at least seen glimmers of it continue to pervade on campus and through the student body. Whether it’s innocent and mischievous like mud wrestling in the middle of the night, or rooted in passion and activism like holding a sit-in in Eliot or a protest outside Vollum, I am invigorated by the moments that I see students taking charge to create something meaningful not just for their own benefit, but because they see a place where they can make a difference in the lives of those around them. If you take that away from Reed, then Reed will cease to exist. Or, worse, Reed will be a shell of what it could be, leaving the mission it was created for unfulfilled.
Simply put: stop trying to speak for Reed and let Reed speak for itself.
Cordially,
Piper S. McKeever ‘26