The Practical Benefits of Student–Faculty Research Collaboration
By Edward Helfers (EH) and Madison Moore (MM)
Fall 2024
Introduction
EH: A few years ago, to combat the dreaded mid-semester slump, I asked my writing students to reimagine the research process as a tabletop game. How would the board be organized? Would players compete or cooperate? What spaces could help or hinder your progress? Do any existing games mirror your previous research experience?
MM: As an overconfident freshman in that lecture, I wasn’t sure a board game would bolster my approach to research. Gaming in the classroom did not fit the mold of pedagogical practices I was conditioned to equate with academic success. Nonetheless, by playing along, my skepticism turned to curiosity, and I soon questioned if one-way lectures and Cornell Notes were the best way to learn.
EH: This experiment—as much an act of escapism as an attempt to animate information literacy—was popular enough to make me think a more polished version of the game could suit our classroom needs. Almost immediately, the red flags went up, no doubt familiar to the overstretched and overscheduled among us. Funding. Bandwidth. Ability. Training. Labor exploitation at the neoliberal university. Time.
EH+MM: This article isn’t a plug for the finished product or a recap of iterative design work. It’s not an analysis of our game-testing data or player perception biases. Instead, it’s an attempt to pin down, beyond the noble aims of building new knowledge and preparing an engaged citizenry, the more practical payoffs of student–faculty research collaborations—both for students and for faculty.
For simplicity’s sake, we’ve arranged discussion of these payoffs into separate sections. Madison Moore, a rising senior majoring in legal studies, will handle the first section, speaking from her experience as a veteran research assistant. In the second section, Edward Helfers, a Senior Lecturer in the Literature Department, will outline some of the lesser-known ways undergraduate research partners can benefit faculty members.
Student Benefits (MM)
Connection to Community. My high school teachers often spoke of college-level research with a mix of reverence and awe, portraying it as a pinnacle of academic engagement reserved for the upper echelons of students.
This perception couldn’t be further from the truth. When peers or professors want to know how I got involved in research, many are surprised to hear that I just asked Professor Helfers if he needed help with his project after class. There was no in-depth process to get started; I expressed my curiosity and willingness to contribute.
I’m glad I did. This relationship has fostered a unique sense of community, distinct from the typical collegiate bonds. It has provided a continuity of mentorship and growth not commonly found on campus. Unlike other professorial relationships, which, while impactful, often remain confined to the classroom, this partnership has allowed me to be seen and supported throughout my transformative journey at AU. Having someone witness and contribute to my development from start to finish has been an invaluable aspect of my college experience, offering a deep, personalized connection during a period brimming with change.
Faculty can make themselves more approachable by actively introducing their research projects in class and encouraging questions and participation. Holding informal sessions or dedicated office hours to discuss research opportunities and proactively reaching out to interested students can create a welcoming and open environment. By doing so, faculty can combat the perception that research is only for a select few and help students realize that they can “just ask.”
Academic Trajectory. Entering my freshman year on the legal studies track, I was set on preparing myself for law school. I joined the mock trial team, guided by a culture of certainty. Before college and even more so on campus, it seemed important to know exactly who you were and what you wanted to achieve from day one. The pressure to be a fully formed adult, complete with internships on the Hill, quickly became a trap, limiting exploration outside predetermined paths.
Working on this project changed my thinking. I learned more about the world of academic research, developing expertise in everything from literature reviews and data analysis to IRB approval, not to mention hands-on game testing experiences that gave me confidence textbook learning alone could never furnish. More importantly, beyond the tangible outcomes of our research, this mentorship has fundamentally shaped my academic trajectory, steering me toward the minor I am passionately pursuing today—graphic design.
The process of designing Breakdowns & Breakthroughs redirected my academic focus and set the stage for my future career aspirations. As I prepare to graduate next spring with a major in legal studies complemented by a minor in graphic design, I am already testing new professional pathways, including a part time design gig with the Investigative Reporting Workshop, which produces graphics that accompany published news articles.
Authentic Research Experience/Lifelong Learning. Before embarking on this collaboration, my sense of research was shaped by limited assignments that seldom strayed from the straightforward path of compiling information from secondary sources. These projects, often constrained by tight deadlines and defined parameters, left little room for the iterative, messy process that more advanced research often demands.
I started working on the board game under the flawed assumption that research was a linear journey—start with a question, find the answer in books or articles, and present the findings. The reality of navigating through unexpected challenges, revising hypotheses, and the slow, painstaking accumulation of data starkly contrasted my previous endeavors. This project exposed me to the rigors of academic inquiry, where each setback became a lesson in persistence, and each round of feedback, an opportunity to sharpen my ideas.
Furthermore, this experience provided the impetus to initiate my own research project—a card matching game aimed at middle school students. This venture, while daunting, continues to teach me resilience in the face of setbacks, the value of iterative feedback, time management, critical thinking, and communication abilities—all skills that will help down the road.
Faculty Benefits (EH)
Filling a Skills Gap. On the verge of the pandemic, I wandered into a classroom with the most stunning board work I’d ever seen, constellations of atomic chains and periodic formulas seemingly sampled from A Beautiful Mind. I felt guilty when I picked up the eraser, acutely aware of the jagged, primitive scribbles that would follow.
Of the diverse skills that building a board game demands, graphic design ranks low on my qualifications list. This is one area where students like Madison sustained the project. After a quick survey of digital design programs, she produced high quality mock-ups on short notice, revising along the way with input from game-testing sessions. What’s more, after training in the University’s Design and Build Lab (DaBL), Madison learned the ins and outs of 3D software, printing professional-grade cards and tokens that helped bring the game to life.
So far, this collaboration has me wondering: Might this project have inroads for students with other skill sets? What other talents outside of my limited purview could push the research in unexpected directions?
Productive Anxiety. Recently, one of my colleagues confessed that partnering with a research assistant proved stressful—finding work for the student became its own form of work. It’s a sentiment I can relate to. Where some fields organically invite student contributions—think biologists sifting stream data or engineers testing nanomaterials in the lab—plenty more exist where such collaboration is less the rule and more the exception.
In our case, the anxiety of imagining (or re-imagining) research roles created unexpected momentum. Some of our more productive meetings abandoned the agenda in favor of spit-balling sessions, a series of what ifs that helped us envision iterative possibilities. Would further fabrication prove fulfilling on Madison’s end? What value could a more polished version of the game bring? Was the collection of gameplay data a necessary or rewarding end? If so, who should lead that charge? What other opportunities could help us continue this important conversation about information literacy?
In retrospect, by weighing plausible—even preposterous—pathways, perhaps we were more likely to arrive at a preferable one, as researchers in the burgeoning field of futures thinking contend. Regardless, without the anxiety of mapping out meaningful work tasks, I doubt the game would exist in its current form, as an interactive pedagogical curveball and data-gathering mechanism, with a spinoff version, conceived entirely by Madison, soon to be tested in local middle schools.
Institutional Awareness. In a time of tight budgets, it can be tempting to dismiss student collaboration on cost alone. Short of a grant, shaking down the money tree can feel like a fool’s errand, and faculty research allocations only go so far in the hunt for funding and resources.
Over the course of this project, however, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the number of institutional partners willing to think creatively about support channels. A brief list includes CTRL, The Design and Build Lab, The AU Honors Program, The Summer Scholars and Artists Program, The Library Makerspace, and The Mathias Student Research Conference. In some cases, meaningful support came after a single email spelling out our research aims. But even when a query fell flat, folks were happy to redirect, steering us in directions that might prove more fruitful.
As a result, I have a much better sense of what is (and isn’t) possible when supporting students. The benefits of this institutional awareness extend beyond this student and this project—already, I’ve found myself highlighting opportunities other students might seize.
Conclusion (EH & MM)
The benefits of working together on this project are different than we imagined three years ago. Collaboration not only catalyzed our research, but it also changed our sense of disciplinary and institutional pathways. Even though we weren’t always sure of next steps, accountability levers, like bi-weekly meetings or funding applications, led to a destination that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise, allowing us to share information literacy games with a wider circle. We hope this article encourages others to follow suit, to recognize how student faculty collaboration can expand research communities.
References
Cork, S., Alexandra, C., Alvarez-Romero, J.G., Bennet, E.M., Berbés-Blásquez, M., Bohensky, E., Bok, B., Constanza, R., Hashimoto, S., Hill, R., Inayatullah, S., Kok, K., Kuiper, J.J., Moglia, M., Pereira, L., Peterson, G., Weeks, R. & Wyborn, C. “Exploring Alternative Futures in the Anthropocene.” Annual Review of Environment and Resources, 48, 25-54. 2023.
Suggestions for Further Reading
Mihans, R., Long, D., Felten, P. “Power and Expertise: Student Faculty Collaboration in Course Design and the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning.” International Journal for the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning, 2 July, 2008.
Author Profiles
Edward Helfers is a Senior Professorial Lecturer in the Literature Department at American University. A fiction writer and occasional essayist, his research explores debates over ownership—of property, culture, and ideas.
Madison Moore is a rising senior at American University majoring in legal studies with a minor in graphic design. Her contributions for this project have been featured in the Matthias Student Research Conference, LSU Discover Day, and the Conference on College Composition and Communication.