Jun 28, 2018 | Volume 8 - Issue 2
Marisa C. Rapp, Steven J. Moody, Leslie A. Stewart
The Council for Accreditation of Counseling & Related Educational Programs (CACREP) standards call for doctoral preparation programs to graduate students who are competent in gatekeeping functions. Despite these standards, little is understood regarding the development and training of doctoral students in their roles as gatekeepers. We propose a call for further investigation into doctoral student gatekeeper development and training in gatekeeping practices. Additionally, we provide training and programmatic curriculum recommendations derived from current literature for counselor education programs. Finally, we discuss implications of gatekeeping training in counselor education along with future areas of research for the profession.
Keywords: gatekeeping, counselor education, doctoral students, programmatic curriculum, CACREP
Gatekeeping practices in counselor education are highly visible in current literature, as counselor impairment continues to be a significant concern for the mental health professions (Brown-Rice & Furr, 2015; Homrich, DeLorenzi, Bloom, & Godbee, 2014; Lumadue & Duffey, 1999; Rapisarda & Britton, 2007; Rust, Raskin, & Hill, 2013; Ziomek-Daigle & Christensen, 2010). V. A. Foster and McAdams (2009) found that counselor educators are frequently faced with counselors-in-training (CITs) whose professional performance fails to meet program standards. Although gatekeeping practices in counselor education have been cursorily examined over the past 40 years (Ziomek-Daigle & Christensen, 2010), more recent literature indicates a need to further address this topic (Brown-Rice & Furr, 2016; Burkholder, Hall, & Burkholder, 2014).
In the past two decades, researchers have examined the following aspects of gatekeeping: student selection; retention; remediation; policies and procedures; and experiences of faculty members, counseling students, and clinical supervisors (Brown-Rice & Furr, 2013, 2015, 2016; V. A. Foster & McAdams, 2009; Gaubatz & Vera, 2002; Homrich et al., 2014; Lumadue & Duffey, 1999; Parker et al., 2014; Rapisarda & Britton, 2007; Ziomek-Daigle & Christensen, 2010). Although the aforementioned areas of study are needed to address the complex facets of the gatekeeping process, there is a noticeable lack of research examining how counselor education programs are preparing and educating future faculty members to begin their role as gatekeepers.
Because doctoral degree programs in counselor education are intended to prepare graduates to work in a variety of roles (Council for Accreditation of Counseling & Related Educational Programs [CACREP], 2015), program faculty must train doctoral students in each of the roles and responsibilities expected of a future faculty member or supervisor. Authors of previous studies have examined constructs of identity, development, practice, and training in the various roles that doctoral students assume, including investigations into a doctoral student’s researcher identity (Lambie & Vaccaro, 2011), supervisor identity (Nelson, Oliver, & Capps, 2006), doctoral professional identity transition (Dollarhide, Gibson, & Moss, 2013), and co-teaching experiences (Baltrinic, Jencius, & McGlothlin, 2016). Studies investigating the various elements of these roles are both timely and necessary (Fernando, 2013; Lambie & Vaccaro, 2011; Nelson et al., 2006); yet, there is a dearth of research examining the complex development of emergent gatekeeper identity. In order to empower counseling programs in training the next generation of competent and ethical professional counselors, the development of doctoral students’ gatekeeping skills and identity must be more fully understood.
The Complexity of Gatekeeping in Counselor Education
Gatekeeping is defined as a process to determine suitability for entry into the counseling profession (Brown-Rice & Furr, 2015). When assessing this professional suitability, academic training programs and clinical supervisors actively evaluate CITs during their training as a means to safeguard the integrity of the profession and protect client welfare (Brear, Dorrian, & Luscri, 2008; Homrich et al., 2014). Evaluators who question a CIT’s clinical, academic, and dispositional fitness but fail to intervene with problematic behavior run the risk of endorsing a student who is not ready for the profession. This concept is referred to as gateslipping (Gaubatz & Vera, 2002). Brown-Rice and Furr (2014) found that consequences of gateslipping can impact client care, other CITs, and the entire counseling profession.
Gatekeeping for counselor educators and supervisors is understood as an especially demanding and complex responsibility (Brear & Dorrian, 2010). Potential complications include personal and professional confrontations (Kerl & Eichler, 2005), working through the emotional toll of dismissing a student (Gizara & Forrest, 2004), lack of preparation with facilitating difficult conversations (Jacobs et al., 2011), and fear of legal reprisal when assuming the role of gatekeeper (Homrich et al., 2014). Homrich (2009) found that although counselor educators feel comfortable in evaluating academic and clinical competencies, they often experience difficulty evaluating dispositional competencies that are nebulously and abstractly defined. To complicate the gatekeeping process further, counselor educators are often hesitant to engage in gatekeeping practices, as discerning developmentally appropriate CIT experiences from problematic behavior (Homrich et al., 2014) may be difficult at times. Thus, more clearly defined dispositional competencies and more thorough training in counselor development models may be necessary to assist counselor educators’ self-efficacy in gatekeeping decisions. The proceeding section examines doctoral students in counselor education preparation programs and their involvement in gatekeeping responsibilities and practices.
Doctoral Students’ Role in Gatekeeping
Doctoral students pursuing counselor education and supervision degrees are frequently assigned the responsibility of supervisor and co-instructor of master’s-level students. Consequently, doctoral students serve in an evaluative role (Dollarhide et al., 2013; Fernando, 2013) in which they often have specific power and authority (Brown-Rice & Furr, 2015). Power and positional authority inherent in the role of supervisor (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014) and instructor permit doctoral students ample opportunity to appraise CITs’ development and professional disposition during classroom and supervision interaction (Scarborough, Bernard, & Morse, 2006). Doctoral students frequently consult with faculty through the many tasks, roles, and responsibilities they are expected to carry out (Dollarhide et al., 2013). However, relying solely on consultation during gatekeeping responsibilities rather than acquiring formal training can present considerable risks and complications. The gatekeeping process is complex and leaves room for error in following appropriate protocol, understanding CIT behavior and development, supporting CITs, and potentially endorsing CITs with problematic behavior that may have been overlooked.
Despite the importance of doctoral student education in the counseling profession and a substantial body of research on gatekeeping over the past two decades (Brown-Rice & Furr, 2013, 2015, 2016; V. A. Foster & McAdams, 2009; Gaubatz & Vera, 2002; Lumadue & Duffey, 1999; Parker et al., 2014; Rapisarda & Britton, 2007; Ziomek-Daigle & Christensen, 2010), there is an absence in the professional discourse examining the identity, development, practice, and training of doctoral students for their role of gatekeeper. No counseling literature to date has explored how counselor education programs are supporting doctoral students’ transition into the role of gatekeeper, despite the latest accreditation standards calling for doctoral preparation programs to graduate students who are competent in gatekeeping functions relevant to teaching and clinical supervision (CACREP, 2015, Standard 6.B). A lack of specific literature is particularly problematic, as the process of gatekeeping can be difficult for faculty members. It is reasonable to assume that if faculty members struggle to navigate the responsibilities of a gatekeeper, then less experienced doctoral students would struggle in this role as well. Furthermore, most incoming doctoral students have not had an opportunity to formally engage in gatekeeping practices in academic settings as an evaluator (DeDiego & Burgin, 2016).
Although doctoral students have been introduced to the concept of gatekeeping as master’s-level students (e.g., gatekeeping policies), many counselors do not retain or understand gatekeeping information (V. A. Foster & McAdams, 2009; Parker et al., 2014; Rust et al., 2013). These research findings were further examined through an exploratory study in August of 2016. The first two authors of this article assessed beginning doctoral students’ gatekeeping knowledge and self-efficacy prior to doctoral training or formal curricula. Areas of knowledge assessed included general information on the function of gatekeeping, standard practices, and program-specific policies and procedures. Preliminary findings of six participants indicated that incoming doctoral students lacked understanding for their role in gatekeeping. This supports existing research (V. A. Foster & McAdams, 2009; Parker et al., 2014; Rust et al., 2013) and aligns with DeDeigo and Burgin’s (2016) assertion that doctoral students are often unsure of what the role of gatekeeper “even means, let alone how to carry it out” (p. 182). Consequently, attention must be given to preparing doctoral students for their gatekeeping role to meet CACREP standards and, most importantly, prepare them to gatekeep effectively in an effort to prevent gateslippage.
DeDiego and Burgin’s (2016) recommended counselor education programs support doctoral students’ development through specific programmatic training. Despite the established importance of specific training (Brear & Dorrian, 2010), no corresponding guidelines exist for content of material. To address this gap, we provide recommendations of content areas that may assist doctoral students in becoming acquainted with the complex role of gatekeeper. We derived our recommendations from a thorough review of professional literature. Recommendations compiled include current trends related to gatekeeping within the counseling profession, findings from various studies that state what information is deemed important in the realm of gatekeeping, and considerations for educational and professional standards that guide best practices as a counselor educator.
Recommendations
Recommendations contain general areas of knowledge that should accompany program-specific material for introductory gatekeeping role information. Providing doctoral students with program-specific policies and procedures related to gatekeeping practices, such as remedial and dismissal procedures, is of utmost importance. This information can be dispersed in a variety of methods such as orientation, gatekeeping-specific training, coursework, and advising. We view these areas of content as foundational in acquainting doctoral students with the role of gatekeeper. We included four general content areas of knowledge pertaining to gatekeeping practices and the role of gatekeeper: current variation of language espoused by the counselor education community; ethics related to gatekeeping; cultural considerations; and legal and due process considerations. Each of these recommended content areas will be briefly discussed with relevant literature supporting the importance of their inclusion.
Adopted Language
Current terminology in the field of counselor education describing CITs who struggle to meet professional standards and expectations is broad and lacks a universal language that has been adopted by counselor educators (Brown-Rice & Furr, 2015). Consequently, a plethora of terms and definitions exists in the literature describing CITs who are struggling to meet clinical, academic, and dispositional competencies. As described earlier, the lack of consensus regarding gatekeeping and remediation language may contribute to the lack of clarity, which many counselor educators perceive as a gatekeeping challenge. Terms appearing in gatekeeping literature that describe students of concern include: deficient trainees (Gaubatz & Vera, 2002), problems of professional competence (Elman & Forrest, 2007; Rust et al., 2013), impaired, unsuitable, unqualified, and incompetent (J. M. Foster, Leppma, & Hutchinson, 2014), with varying definitions describing these terms. Duba, Paez, and Kindsvatter (2010) defined counselor impairment as any “emotional, physical, or educational condition that interferes with the quality of one’s professional performance” (p. 155) and defined its counterpart, counselor competency, as an individual demonstrating both clinical skills and psychological health. It is important to emphasize potential complications and implications associated with the term impairment, which can have close association with disability services, rendering a much different meaning for the student, supervisee, or colleague (McAdams & Foster, 2007).
Introducing these terms to doctoral students not only familiarizes them with the definitions, history, and relevance of terms present in the counseling community, it also provides a foundation in which to begin to conceptualize the difference between clinical “impairment” versus emotional distress or developmentally appropriate academic struggle. In upholding responsibilities of gatekeeping, one must be aware of the differentiating aspects of emotional distress and impairment in order to be able to distinguish the two in professionals and students. In further support of this assertion, Rust et al. (2013) stated that counseling programs must be able to distinguish between problems of professional competence and problematic behavior related to normal CIT development. Including a review of relevant terms existing in the counseling literature in the program’s training will allow doctoral students to begin to understand and contextualize the language relevant to their new roles as gatekeepers.
Although it is essential to educate doctoral students on language common to the counseling community, familiarity with language adopted by the department and institution with which they are serving as gatekeepers is vital to training well-informed gatekeepers (Brear & Dorrian, 2010). Having a clear understanding of the terminology surrounding gatekeeping ensures that doctoral students and faculty are able to have an open and consistent dialogue when enforcing gatekeeping practices. Homrich (2009) described consistent implementation of gatekeeping protocol as a best practice for counseling programs and faculty. Additional best practices include the establishment of expectations and communicating them clearly and widely. In the recommendations offered by Homrich (2009), a common language is needed within the department in order to successfully implement these practices to improve and sustain gatekeeping procedures. After doctoral students are situated in the current climate of gatekeeping-related terms and language, an exploration of professional and educational ethics can ensue.
Ethics Related to Gatekeeping
Professional and ethical mandates should be identified and discussed to familiarize doctoral students with the corresponding ethical codes that they are expected to uphold. Three sources that guide ethical behavior and educational standards for counselor educators that must be integrated in curricula and training include the American Counseling Association Code of Ethics (2014), the 2016 CACREP Standards (2015), and the National Board for Certified Counselors Code of Ethics (2012). Doctoral preparation programs should draw specific attention to codes related to the function of gatekeeping. These ethical codes and professional standards can be introduced in an orientation and discussed in more depth during advising and formal courses.
Doctoral preparation programs have flexibility in introducing standards and ethical codes during doctoral students’ academic journey. We recommend relevant standards and ethics be introduced early and mentioned often during doctoral training, specifically in terms of gatekeeping. Doctoral students should have prior knowledge of the ethical codes before engaging in gatekeeping or remedial functions with CITs. Moreover, if doctoral students have an understanding of the educational standards that are required of them, they can strive to meet specific standards in a personalized, meaningful manner during their training. Referencing CACREP standards addressed in a course syllabus is required for accreditation and helpful for students; yet, educational standards should be incorporated in training to foster deeper meaning and applicability of standards. As doctoral students are being trained to take leadership positions in the counselor education field, a more thorough understanding of educational principles and ethical codes is vital, particularly in the area of gatekeeping. Faculty members leading doctoral courses are encouraged to speak to standards related to gatekeeping throughout the duration of a course. Faculty intentionally dialoguing about how these standards are being met may allow for doctoral students to provide informal feedback to whether they believe they understand the multifaceted role of gatekeeper. During the review of codes and standards, focused attention should be given to “cultural and developmental sensitivity in interpreting and applying codes and standards” (p. 207) in gatekeeping-related situations (Letourneau, 2016). One option for attending to such sensitivity is the introduction of a case study in which doctoral students participate in open dialogue facilitated by a trainer. The inclusion of a case study aims to engage doctoral students in critical thinking surrounding cultural and diversity implications for gatekeeping practices. The following section will draw further attention to the importance of cultural awareness in gatekeeping practices and responsibilities.
Cultural Considerations
It is vital for doctoral students to have an understanding and awareness of the cultural sensitivity that is required of them in making sound gatekeeping-related decisions. Not only do ethical codes and educational mandates expect counselor educators to possess a level of multicultural competency (American Counseling Association, 2014; CACREP, 2015), but recent literature draws attention to cultural considerations in the gatekeeping process (Goodrich & Shin, 2013; Letourneau, 2016). These cultural considerations provide doctoral students with valuable information on conceptualizing and interacting with gatekeeping practices in a more culturally sensitive manner.
Letourneau (2016) described the critical nature of taking into account students’ cultural influences and differences when evaluating their assessment of fitness for the profession, while Goodrich and Shin (2013) called attention to “how cultural values and norms may intersect” (p. 43) with appraisal of CIT counseling competencies. For example, when assessing a CIT’s behavior or performance to determine whether it may be defined as problematic, evaluators may have difficulty establishing if the identified behavior is truly problematic or rather deviating from the cultural norm (Letourneau, 2016). This consideration is essential as culture, diversity, and differing values and beliefs can influence and impact how perceived problematic behaviors emerge and consequently how observed deficiencies in performance are viewed (Goodrich & Shin, 2013; Letourneau, 2016). Examining the cultural values of the counseling profession, counselor education programs, and the community in which the program is embedded can shed light on what behaviors, attitudes, and beliefs are valued and considered norms. This examination can prompt critical awareness of how CITs differing from cultural norms may be assessed and evaluated differently, and even unfairly.
Jacobs et al. (2011) described insufficient support for evaluators in how to facilitate difficult discussions in gatekeeping-related issues, specifically when the issues included attention to diversity components. Doctoral students must be given ample opportunity to identify cultural facets of case examples and talk through their course of action as a means to raise awareness and practice looking through a multicultural lens in gatekeeping-related decisions and processes. Of equal importance is familiarity with legal and due process considerations, which are addressed in the section below.
Legal and Due Process Considerations
Three governing regulations that are often discussed in the literature, but left to the reader’s imagination in how faculty members actually understand them, include the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act (FERPA) of 2000, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) of 1990, and a student’s rights and due process policy within an institution. Presenting these three concepts and their implications to the gatekeeping process is warranted, as doctoral students are assumed only to have the understanding of these concepts from a student perspective. Although FERPA, the ADA, and the due process clause may be covered in new faculty orientation, how these regulations interface with gatekeeping and remediation are generally not reviewed during standard university orientations. It is recommended that training and curricula include general knowledge and institution-specific information related to the regulations. Institution-specific material can include university notification of rights; handbook material directly addressing student rights; remediation policy and procedures; and resources and specific location of campus services such as the disability office. Inclusion of general and program-specific information will help future faculty members in possessing a rounded and well-grounded understanding of how legal considerations will apply to students and inform their gatekeeping practices. Lastly, doctoral students should be informed that the regulations detailed below may limit their access of information due to master’s-level student privacy. To begin, doctoral students should intimately understand FERPA and its application to the CITs they often supervise, teach, and evaluate.
FERPA. General information may consist of the history and evolution of FERPA in higher education and its purpose in protecting students’ confidentiality in relation to educational records. Doctoral students must be introduced to the protocol for ensuring confidentiality in program files. Program files include communication about CIT performance and may be directly related to gatekeeping issues. Doctoral students must recognize that, as evaluators communicating CIT assessment of fitness, including dispositional competencies, they must abide by FERPA regulations, because dispositional competencies are considered educational records.
Educational programs often utilize off-site practicum and internship programs that are independent from the respective university (Gilfoyle, 2008), and this is indeed the case with many CACREP-accredited counselor training programs. Doctoral students must have an understanding of the protocols in place to communicate with site supervisors who are unaffiliated with the university, such as student written-consent forms that are a routine part of paperwork for off-site training placement (Gilfoyle, 2008). Although doctoral students may not be directly corresponding with off-site evaluators, their training should consist of familiarizing them with FERPA regulations that address the disclosure of student records in order to prepare them in serving CITs in a faculty capacity. Understanding how to communicate with entities outside of the university is crucial in the event that they are acting as university supervisors and correspondence is necessary for gatekeeping-related concerns. An additional governmental regulation they are expected to be familiar and interact with is the ADA.
The ADA. Introducing doctoral students to the ADA serves multiple functions. First, similar to FERPA, it would be helpful for doctoral students to be grounded in the history of how the ADA developed and its purpose in protecting students’ rights concerning discrimination. Second, general disability service information, such as physical location on their respective campus, contact information for disability representatives, and protocols for referring a student, provides doctoral students the necessary knowledge in the event that a CIT would inquire about accommodations. If a CIT were to inquire about ADA services during a class in which a doctoral student co-teaches or during a supervision session, it would be appropriate for the doctoral student to disseminate information rather than keeping the CIT waiting until after consultation with a faculty member. Lacking general information relevant to student services may place the doctoral student in a vulnerable position in which the supervisory alliance is undermined, as the doctoral student serving in an evaluative role is not equipped with the information or knowledge to assist the CIT. Finally, presentation of the ADA and its implications for gatekeeping will inform students of the protocols that are necessary when evaluating a CIT who has a record of impairment. For example, if a CIT has registered a disability through the university’s ADA office, appropriate accommodations must be made and their disability must be considered during the gatekeeping process.
Due Process. The introduction of students’ fundamental right to basic fairness is essential, as many doctoral students may not understand this concept outside of a student perspective because of a lack of experience in instructor and supervisor positions. Examples of such basic fairness can be illustrated for doctoral students through highlighting various components in a counselor training program that should be in place to honor students’ right to fair procedures and protect against arbitrary decision-making. These include but are not limited to access to program requirements, expectations, policies, and practices; opportunity to respond and be heard in a meaningful time in a meaningful way; decisions by faculty members, advisors, or programs to be supported by substantial evidence; option to appeal a decision and to be notified of judicial proceedings; and realistic time to complete remediation (Gilfoyle, 2008; Homrich, 2009). McAdams and Foster (2007) developed a framework to address CIT due process and fundamental fairness considerations in remediation procedures to help guide counselor educators’ implementation of remediation. It is recommended that these guidelines (McAdams & Foster, 2007) be introduced in doctoral student training to generate discussion and included as a resource for future reference. In educating doctoral students about considerations of due process through a faculty lens, formal procedures to address student complaints, concerns, and appeals also should be included in training.
Implications for Counselor Education
Doctoral preparation programs are charged with graduating students who will be prepared and competent for the various roles they will assume as a counselor educator and clinical supervisor. The lack of professional literature exploring the development and training of gatekeepers indicates a clear call to the counseling profession to investigate the emergence of counselor educators into their role of gatekeepers. This call is fueled by the need to understand how doctoral preparation programs can support students and ensure competency upon graduation. Generating dialogue related to doctoral student gatekeeper development may consequently continue the conversation of standardization in gatekeeping protocol. Accordingly, this sustained dialogue also would keep the need for more universal gatekeeping nomenclature in the forefront. Continued emphasis on a common gatekeeping language will only strengthen gatekeeping protocol and practices and in return provide an opportunity for training developments that have the potential to be standardized across programs.
The recommended content areas we have offered are intended to prepare doctoral students for their role of gatekeeper and aim to enhance the transition into faculty positions. These recommendations may be limited in their generalizability because gatekeeping practices vary across programs and department cultures, indicating that information and trainings will need to be tailored individually to fit the expectations of each counseling department. These differences hinder the ability to create a standardized training that could be utilized by all departments. As gatekeeping practices continue to receive research attention and the call for more universal language and standardization is answered, standardization of training can be revisited. Nonetheless, general recommendations in training content can serve as groundwork for programs to ensure that students are receiving a foundation of basic knowledge that will allow doctoral students to feel more confident in their role of gatekeeper. The recommended content areas also serve to help incoming doctoral students begin to conceptualize and see through an academic—rather than only a clinical—lens.
Implementation and delivery of recommended content areas may be applied in a flexible manner that meets doctoral preparation programs’ specific needs. The recommendations offered in this article can be applied to enhance existing curricula, infused throughout coursework, or disseminated in a gatekeeping training or general orientation. Faculty creating doctoral curricula should be cognizant of when doctoral students are receiving foundational gatekeeping information. If doctoral students are expected to have interaction with and evaluative power over master’s-level students, recommended gatekeeping content areas should be introduced prior to this interaction.
There are several avenues for future research, as the proposed recommendations for content areas are rich in potential for future scholarly pursuit. The first is the call to the profession for investigations examining training efforts and their effectiveness in preparing future faculty members for the multifaceted role of gatekeeper. The complexity and import of gatekeeping responsibilities and identity development may be a possible reason for the lack of studies to date on this role. Nevertheless, both qualitative and quantitative inquiry could lend insight to gaps in training that lead to potential gateslippage. Quantitative research would be helpful in examining how many programs are currently utilizing trainings and the content of such trainings. In consideration of the number of CACREP-accredited doctoral programs within the United States, a large sample size is feasible to explore trends and capture a full picture. Conducting qualitative analysis would expand and deepen the understanding of how faculty and doctoral students have been trained and their processes and experience in becoming gatekeepers.
In conclusion, doctoral preparation programs can be cognizant to infuse the aforementioned recommended content areas into doctoral curricula to meet CACREP standards and prepare doctoral students for the complex role of gatekeeper. Counselor education and supervision literature indicates that more focused attention on training could be beneficial in improving gatekeeping knowledge for doctoral students. Training recommendations derived from existing literature can be utilized as guidelines to enhance program curriculum and be investigated in future research endeavors. With a scarcity of empirical studies examining gatekeeping training and gatekeeper development, both quantitative and qualitative studies would be beneficial to better understand the role of gatekeeper and strengthen the overall professional identity of counselor educators and clinical supervisors.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest or funding contributions for the development of this manuscript.
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Rust, J. P., Raskin, J. D., & Hill, M. S. (2013). Problems of professional competence among counselor trainees: Programmatic issues and guidelines. Counselor Education and Supervision, 52, 30–42.
doi:10.1002/j1556-6978.2013.00026x
Scarborough, J. L., Bernard, J. M., & Morse, R. E. (2006). Boundary considerations between doctoral students and master’s students. Counseling and Values, 51, 53–65. doi:10.1002/j.2161-007X.2006.tb00065.x
Ziomek-Daigle, J., & Christensen, T. M. (2010). An emergent theory of gatekeeping practices in counselor education. Journal of Counseling & Development, 88, 407–415. doi:10.1002/j.1556-6678.2010.tb00040.x
Marisa C. Rapp, NCC, is an assistant professor at the University of Wisconsin–Parkside. Steven J. Moody, NCC, is an associate professor at Idaho State University. Leslie A. Stewart is an assistant professor at Idaho State University. Correspondence can be addressed to Marisa Rapp, 264 Molinaro Hall, 900 Wood Rd., Kenosha, WI 53144-2000, rapp@uwp.edu.
Mar 30, 2018 | Volume 8 - Issue 1
Maribeth F. Jorgensen, William E. Schweinle
The 68-item Research Identity Scale (RIS) was informed through qualitative exploration of research identity development in master’s-level counseling students and practitioners. Classical psychometric analyses revealed the items had strong validity and reliability and a single factor. A one-parameter Rasch analysis and item review was used to reduce the RIS to 21 items. The RIS offers counselor education programs the opportunity to promote and quantitatively assess research-related learning in counseling students.
Keywords: Research Identity Scale, research identity, research identity development, counselor education, counseling students
With increased accountability and training standards, professionals as well as professional training programs have to provide outcomes data (Gladding & Newsome, 2010). Traditionally, programs have assessed student learning through outcomes measures such as grade point averages, comprehensive exam scores, and state or national licensure exam scores. Because of the goals of various learning processes, it may be important to consider how to measure learning in different ways (e.g., change in behavior, attitude, identity) and specific to the various dimensions of professional counselor identity (e.g., researcher, advocate, supervisor, consultant). Previous research has focused on understanding how measures of research self-efficacy (Phillips & Russell, 1994) and research interest (Kahn & Scott, 1997) allow for an objective assessment of research-related learning in psychology and social work programs. The present research adds to previous literature by offering information about the development and applications of the Research Identity Scale (RIS), which may provide counseling programs with another approach to measure student learning.
Student Learning Outcomes
When deciding how to measure the outcomes of student learning, it is important that programs start with defining the student learning they want to take place (Warden & Benshoff, 2012). Student learning outcomes focus on intellectual and emotional growth in students as a result of what takes place during their training program (Hernon & Dugan, 2004). Student learning outcomes are often guided by the accreditation standards of a particular professional field. Within the field of counselor education, the Council for Accreditation of Counseling & Related Educational Programs (CACREP) is the accrediting agency. CACREP promotes quality training by defining learning standards and requiring programs to provide evidence of their effectiveness in meeting those standards. In relation to research, the 2016 CACREP standards require research to be a part of professional counselor identity development at both the entry level (e.g., master’s level) and doctoral level. The CACREP research standards emphasize the need for counselors-in-training to learn the following:
The importance of research in advancing the counseling profession, including how to critique research to inform counseling practice; identification of evidence-based counseling practices; needs assessments; development of outcome measures for counseling programs; evaluation of counseling interventions and programs; qualitative quantitative, and mixed research methods; designs in research and program evaluation; statistical methods used in conducting research and program evaluation; analysis and use of data in counseling; ethically and culturally relevant strategies for conducting, interpreting, and reporting results of research and/or program evaluation. (CACREP, 2016, p .14)
These CACREP standards not only suggest that counselor development needs to include curriculum that focuses on and integrates research, but also identify a possible need to have measurement tools that specifically assess research-related learning (growth).
Research Learning Outcomes Measures
The Self-Efficacy in Research Measure (SERM) was designed by Phillips and Russell (1994) to measure research self-efficacy, which is similar to the construct of research identity. The SERM is a 33-item scale with four subscales: practical research skills, quantitative and computer skills, research design skills, and writing skills. This scale is internally consistent (α = .96) and scores highly correlate with other components such as research training environment and research productivity. The SERM has been adapted for assessment in psychology (Kahn & Scott, 1997) and social work programs (Holden, Barker, Meenaghan, & Rosenberg, 1999).
Similarly, the Research Self-Efficacy Scale (RSES) developed by Holden and colleagues (1999) uses aspects of the SERM (Phillips & Russell, 1994), but includes only nine items to measure changes in research self-efficacy as an outcome of research curriculum in a social work program. The scale has excellent internal consistency (α = .94) and differences between pre- and post-tests were shown to be statistically significant. Investigators have noticed the value of this scale and have applied it to measure the effectiveness of research courses in social work training programs (Unrau & Beck, 2004; Unrau & Grinnell, 2005).
Unrau and Beck (2004) reported that social work students gained confidence in research when they received courses on research methodology. Students gained most from activities outside their research courses, such as participating in research with faculty members. Following up, Unrau and Grinnell (2005) administered the scale prior to the start of the semester and at the end of the semester to measure change in social work students’ confidence in doing research tasks. Overall, social work students varied greatly in their confidence before taking research courses and made gains throughout the semester. Unrau and Grinnell stressed their results demonstrate the need for the use of pre- and post-tests to better gauge the way curriculum impacts how students experience research.
Previous literature supports the use of scales such as the SERM and RSES to measure the effectiveness of research-related curricula (Holden et al., 1999; Kahn & Scott, 1997; Unrau & Beck, 2004; Unrau & Grinnell, 2005). These findings also suggest the need to continue exploring the research dimension of professional identity. It seems particularly important to measure concepts such as research self-efficacy, research interest, and research productivity, all of which are a part of research identity (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a, 2015b).
Research Identity as a Learning Outcome
The concept of research identity (RI) has received minimal attention (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a, 2015b; Reisetter et al., 2004). Reisetter and colleagues (2004) described RI as a mental and emotional connection with research. Jorgensen and Duncan (2015a) described RI as the magnitude and quality of relationship with research; the allocation of research within a broader professional identity; and a developmental process that occurs in stages. Scholars have focused on qualitatively exploring the construct of RI, which may give guidance around how to facilitate and examine RI at the program level (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a, 2015b; Reisetter et al., 2004). Also, the 2016 CACREP standards include language (e.g., knowledge of evidence-based practices, analysis and use of data in counseling) that favors curriculum that would promote RI. Although previous researchers have given the field prior knowledge of RI (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a, 2015b; Reisetter et al., 2004), there has been no focus on further exploring RI in a quantitative way and in the context of being a possible measure of student learning. The first author developed the RIS with the aim of assessing RI through a quantitative lens and augmenting traditional learning outcomes measures such as grades, grade point averages, and standardized test scores. There were three purposes for the current study: (a) to develop the RIS; (b) to examine the psychometric properties of the RIS from a classical testing approach; and (c) to refine the items through future analysis based on the item response theory (Nunnally & Bernstein, 1994). Two research questions guided this study: (a) What are the psychometric properties of the RIS from a classical testing approach? and (b) What items remain after the application of an item response analysis?
Method
Participants
The participants consisted of a convenience sample of 170 undergraduate college students at a Pacific Northwest university. Sampling undergraduate students is a common practice when initially testing scale psychometric properties and employing item response analysis (Embretson & Reise, 2000; Heppner, Wampold, Owen, Thompson, & Wang, 2016). The mean age of the sample was 23.1 years (SD = 6.16) with 49 males (29%), 118 females (69%), and 3 (2%) who did not report gender. The racial identity composition of the participants was mostly homogenous: 112 identified as White (not Hispanic); one identified as American Indian or Alaska Native; 10 identified as Asian; three identified as Black or African American; eight identified as multiracial; 21 identified as Hispanic; three identified as “other”; and seven preferred not to answer.
Instruments
There were three instruments used in this study: a demographic questionnaire, the RSES, and the RIS.
Demographics questionnaire. Participants were asked to complete a demographic sheet that included five questions about age, gender, major, race, and current level of education; these identifiers did not pose risk to confidentiality of the participants. All information was stored on the Qualtrics database, which was password protected and only accessible by the primary investigator.
The RSES. The RSES was developed by Holden et al. (1999) to measure effectiveness of research education in social work training programs. The RSES has nine items that assess respondents’ level of confidence with various research activities. The items are answered on a 0–100 scale with 0 indicating cannot do at all, 50 indicating moderately certain I can do, and 100 indicating certainly can do. The internal consistency of the scale is .94 at both pre- and post-measures. Holden and colleagues reported using an effect size estimate to assess construct validity but did not report these estimates, so there should be caution when assuming this form of validity.
RIS. The initial phase of this research involved the first author developing the 68 items on the RIS (contact first author for access) based on data from her qualitative work about research identity (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a). The themes from her qualitative research informed the development of items on the scale (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a). Rowan and Wulff (2007) have suggested that using qualitative methods to inform scale development is appropriate, sufficient, and promotes high quality instrument construction.
The first step in developing the RIS items involved the first author analyzing the themes that surfaced during interviews with participants in her qualitative work. This process helped inform the items that could be used to quantitatively measure RI. For example, one theme was Internal Facilitators. Jorgensen and Duncan (2015a) reported that, “participants explained the code of internal facilitators as self-motivation, time management, research self-efficacy, innate traits and thinking styles, interest, curiosity, enjoyment in the research process, willingness to take risks, being open-minded, and future goals” (p. 24). An example of scale items that were operationalized from the theme Internal Facilitators included: 1) I am internally motivated to be involved with research on some level; 2) I am willing to take risks around research; 3) Research will help me meet future goals; and 4) I am a reflective thinker. The first author used that same process when operationalizing each of the qualitative themes into items on the RIS. There were eight themes of RI development (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a). Overall, the number of items per theme was proportionate to the strength of theme, as determined by how often it was coded in the qualitative data. After the scale was developed, the second author reviewed the scale items and cross-checked items with the themes and subthemes from the qualitative studies to evaluate face validity (Nunnally & Bernstein, 1994).
The items on the RIS are short with easily understandable terms in order to avoid misunderstanding and reduce perceived cost of responding (Dillman, Smyth, & Christian, 2009). According to the Flesch Reading Ease calculator, the reading level of the scale is 7th grade (Readability Test Tool, n.d.). The format of answers to each item is forced choice. According to Dillman et al. (2009), a forced-choice format “lets the respondent focus memory and cognitive processing efforts on one option at a time” (p. 130). Individuals completing the scale are asked to read each question or phrase and respond either yes or no. To score the scale, a yes would be scored as one and a no would be scored as zero. Eighteen items are reverse-scored (item numbers 11, 23, 28, 32, 39, 41, 42, 43, 45, 48, 51, 53, 54, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62), meaning that with those 18 questions an answer of no would be scored as a one and an answer of yes would be scored as a zero. Using a classical scoring method (Heppner et al., 2016), scores for the RIS are determined by adding up the number of positive responses. Higher scores indicate a stronger RI overall.
Procedure
Upon Institutional Review Board approval, the study instruments were uploaded onto the primary investigator’s Qualtrics account. At that time, information about the study was uploaded onto the university psychology department’s human subject research system (SONA Systems). Once registered on the SONA system, participants were linked to the instruments used for this study through Qualtrics. All participants were asked to read an informational page that briefly described the nature and purpose of the study, and were told that by continuing they were agreeing to participate in the study and could discontinue at any time. Participants consented by selecting “continue” and completed the questionnaire and instruments. After completion, participants were directed to a post-study information page on which they were thanked and provided contact information about the study and the opportunity to schedule a meeting to discuss research findings at the conclusion of the study. No identifying information was gathered from participants. All information was stored on the Qualtrics database.
Results
All analyses were conducted in SAS 9.4 (SAS Institute, 2012). The researchers first used classical methods (e.g., KR20 and principal factor analysis) to examine the psychometric properties of the RIS. Based on the results of the factor analysis, the researchers used results from a one-parameter Rasch analysis to reduce the number of items on the RIS.
Classical Testing
Homogeneity was explored by computing Kuder-Richardson 20 (KR20) alphas. Across all 68 items the internal consistency was strong (.92). Concurrent validity (i.e., construct validity) was examined by looking at correlations between the RIS and the RSES. The overall correlation between the RIS and the RSES was .66 (p < .001).
Item Response Analysis
Item response theory brought about a new perspective on scale development (Embretson & Reise, 2000) in that it promoted scale refinement even at the initial stages of testing. Item response theory allows for shorter tests that can actually be more reliable when items are well-composed (Embretson & Reise, 2000). The RIS initially included 68 items. Through Rasch analyses, the scale was reduced to 21 items (items numbered 3, 4, 9, 10, 12, 13, 16, 18, 19, 24, 26, 34, 39, 41, 42, 43, 44, 46, 47, 49, 61).
The final 21 items were selected for their dispersion across location on theta in order to widely capture the constructs. The polychoric correlation matrix for the 21 items was then subjected to a principal components analysis yielding an initial eigenvalue of 11.72. The next eigenvalue was 1.97, which clearly identified the crook of the elbow. Further, Cronbach’s alpha for these 21 items was .90. Taken together, these results suggest that the 21-item RIS measures a single factor.
This conclusion was further tested by fitting the items to a two-parameter Rasch model (AIC = 3183.1). Slopes were constrained to unity (1.95), and item location estimates are presented in Table 1. Bayesian a posteriori scores also were estimated and strongly correlated with classical scores (i.e., tallies of the number of positive responses [r = .95, p < .0001]).
Discussion
This scale represents a move from subjective to a more objective assessment of RI. In the future, the scale may be used with other student and non-student populations to better establish its psychometric properties, generalizability, and refinement. Although this study sampled undergraduate students, this scale may be well-suited to use with counseling graduate students and practitioners because items were developed based on a qualitative study with master’s-level counseling students and practicing counselors (Jorgensen & Duncan, 2015a).
Additionally, this scale offers another method for assessing student learning and changes that take place for both students and professionals. As indicated by Holden et al. (1999), it is important to assess learning in multiple ways. Traditional methods may have focused on measuring outcomes that reflect a performance-based, rather than a mastery-based, learning orientation. Performance-based learning has been defined as wanting to learn in order to receive external validation such as a grade (Bruning, Schraw, Norby, & Ronning, 2004). Mastery learning has been defined as wanting to learn for personal benefit and with the goal of applying information to reach a more developed personal and professional identity (Bruning et al., 2004).
Based on what is known about mastery learning (Bruning et al., 2004), students with this type of learning orientation experience identity changes that may be best captured through assessing changes in thoughts, attitudes, and beliefs. The RIS was designed to measure constructs that capture internal changes that may be reflective of a mastery learning orientation. A learner who is performance-oriented may earn an A in a research course but show a lower score on the RIS. The opposite also may be true in that a learner may earn a C in a research course but show higher scores on the RIS. Through the process of combining traditional assessment methods such as grades with the RIS, programs may get a more comprehensive understanding of the effectiveness and impact of their research-related curriculum.
Table 1.
Item location estimates.
| RIS Item |
Location Estimate |
| Item 3 |
-2.41 |
| Item 4 |
-1.80 |
| Item 10 |
-3.16 |
| Item 13 |
-.86 |
| Item 16 |
-.94 |
| Item 19 |
-3.08 |
| Item 24 |
-2.86 |
| Item 9 |
-1.10 |
| Item 12 |
.42 |
| Item 18 |
-2.24 |
| Item 26 |
-2.20 |
| Item 39 |
.20 |
| Item 42 |
-1.28 |
| Item 44 |
-.76 |
| Item 34 |
-1.27 |
| Item 41 |
-.76 |
| Item 43 |
-1.47 |
| Item 46 |
-2.03 |
| Item 47 |
-2.84 |
| Item 49 |
1.22 |
| Item 61 |
-.44 |
Limitations and Areas for Future Research
The sample size and composition were sufficient for the purposes of the initial development and classical testing and item response analysis (Heppner et al., 2016); however, these authors still suggest caution when applying the results of this study to other populations. Endorsements of the participants may not reflect answers of the population in other areas of the country or different academic levels. Future research should sample other student and professional groups. This will help to further establish the psychometric properties and item response analysis conclusions and make the RIS more appropriate for use in other fields. Additionally, future research may examine how scores on the RIS correlate with traditional measures of learning (e.g., grades in individual research courses, collapsed grades in all research courses, research portion on counselor licensure exams).
Conclusion
As counselors-in-training and professional counselors are increasingly being required to demonstrate they are using evidence-based practices and measuring the effectiveness of their services, they may benefit from assessments of their RI (American Counseling Association, 2014; Gladding & Newsome, 2010). CACREP (2016) has responded to increased accountability by enhancing their research and evaluation standards for both master’s- and doctoral-level counseling students. The American Counseling Association is further supporting discussions about RI by publishing a recent blog post titled “Research Identity Crisis” (Hennigan Paone, 2017). In the post, Hennigan Paone described a hope for master’s-level clinicians to start acknowledging and appreciating that research helps them work with clients in ways that are informed by “science rather than intuition” (para. 5). As the calling becomes stronger for counselors to become more connected to research, it seems imperative that counseling programs assess their effectiveness in bridging the gap between research and practice. The RIS provides counseling programs an option to do exactly that by evaluating the way students are learning and growing in relation to research. Further, the use of this type of outcome measure could provide for good modeling at the program level; in that, the hope would be that it would encourage counselors-in-training to develop both a curiosity and motivation to infuse research practices (e.g., needs assessments, outcome measures, data analysis) into their clinical work.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest or funding contribu tions for the developmentof this manuscript.
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Maribeth F. Jorgensen, NCC, is an assistant professor at the University of South Dakota. William E. Schweinle is an associate professor at the University of South Dakota. Correspondence can be addressed to Maribeth Jorgensen, 414 East Clark Street, Vermillion, SD 57069, maribeth.jorgensen@usd.edu.
Mar 30, 2018 | Volume 8 - Issue 1
Eric R. Baltrinic, Randall M. Moate, Michelle Gimenez Hinkle, Marty Jencius, Jessica Z. Taylor
Mentoring is an important practice to prepare doctoral students for future graduate teaching, yet little is known about the teaching mentorship styles used by counselor educators. This study identifies the teaching mentorship styles of counselor educators with at least one year of experience as teaching mentors (N = 25). Q methodology was used to obtain subjective understandings of how counselor educators mentor. Our results suggest three styles labeled as Supervisor, Facilitator, and Evaluator. Specifically, these styles reflect counselor educators’ distinct viewpoints on how to mentor doctoral students in teaching within counselor education doctoral programs. Implications and limitations for counselor educators seeking to transfer aspects of the identified mentorship styles to their own practice are presented, and suggestions for future research are discussed.
Keywords: teaching mentorship, counselor education, Q methodology, doctoral students, graduate teaching
Counselor educators mentor doctoral students in many aspects of the counseling profession, including preparation for future faculty roles (Borders et al., 2011; Briggs & Pehrsson, 2008; S.F. Hall & Hulse, 2010; Lazovsky & Shimoni, 2007; Protivnak & Foss, 2009). Counselor education doctoral students (CEDS) credit faculty mentor relationships in general, and teaching mentorships in particular, as strengthening their professional identities (Limberg et al., 2013). For example, co-teaching, a common form of teaching mentorship, includes relationships that allow CEDS to have instructive pedagogical conversations (Casto, Caldwell, & Salazar, 2005) and learn teaching skills (Baltrinic, Jencius, & McGlothlin, 2016).
Support for teaching mentorships is present in the higher education literature. Doctoral students across disciplines reported the helpfulness of regular mentoring (Austin, 2002) and careful guidance in teaching from faculty members (Jepsen, Varhegyi, & Edwards, 2012). Doctoral students attributed mentoring in teaching as important for increasing self-confidence and comfort with teaching as future faculty members (Utecht & Tullous, 2009). In counselor education, the specific benefits attributed to teaching mentorships included greater confidence in CEDS’ ability to find employment as faculty members (Warnke, Bethany, & Hedstrom, 1999) and greater confidence in CEDS’ teaching ability (S. F. Hall & Hulse, 2010). Doctoral students given teaching opportunities without mentoring risk developing poor attitudes and skill sets, instead of having critical experiences to help them become successful university teachers (Silverman, 2003). Overall, the benefits of teaching mentorships are important given that (a) teaching is a primary component of the faculty job (Davis, Levitt, McGlothlin, & Hill, 2006) and (b) new counselor educators need to sufficiently plan and implement quality teaching (Magnuson, Norem, & Lonneman-Doroff, 2009). Counselor education scholars agree on the importance of mentorship for socializing doctoral students for teaching roles (Baltrinic et al., 2016; Orr, Hall, & Hulse-Killacky, 2008), yet little research is available describing specific styles and approaches to teaching mentorship (S. F. Hall & Hulse, 2010). This gap in the literature is concerning given that new counselor educators reported mentoring and feedback on their teaching by senior faculty members was helpful in enhancing their pedagogical skills (Magnuson, Shaw, Tubin, & Norem, 2004).
Type and Style of Teaching Mentorship
In contrast to discrete faculty–student interactions or training episodes (Black, Suarez, & Medina, 2004), mentor relationships may occur over months and years. Kram (1985) has characterized these relationships as career (teaching skills) and psychosocial (mentor–mentee relationship) types. Career mentoring refers to the act of fostering skills development and sharing field-related content to mentees, and psychosocial mentoring pertains more to the interpersonal and relational aspects of entering a field (e.g., emotional support and working through self-doubt; Curtin, Malley, & Stewart, 2016). Both career and psychosocial mentoring types, or some combination, are used by academic faculty mentors (Curtin et al., 2016). But it is uncertain if these, or any other specific mentoring types, are used for teaching mentorships in counselor education. Teaching mentorships of all types allow faculty members to be flexible, emphasize multiple aspects of being a teacher, and allow for the inclusion of multiple mentors (Borders et al., 2011).
Teaching mentorships transpire through a variety of formal (more structured and planned) and informal (less structured and spontaneous) mentorship styles (Borders et al., 2012). For example, a CEDS may experience teaching mentorship as part of a structured pedagogy course (formal), or have an informal conversation with their faculty advisor about teaching experiences spontaneously during an advising session. Given the complexities and importance of mentor relationships in counselor training, little is known about either formal or informal styles. Thus, it is hardly surprising uncertainty exists regarding counselor educators’ preferred ways of mentoring in general (Borders et al., 2012) and mentoring in teaching in particular (S. F. Hall & Hulse, 2010).
We found no evidence in the counselor education literature describing common styles of teaching mentorship used by counselor educators. This is concerning given that faculty members tend to mentor in the manner that they were mentored (L. A. Hall & Burns, 2009), and that CEDS’ mentorship experiences are influential in shaping their careers as future counselor educators (Borders et al., 2011). Our purpose was to learn more about how counselor educators understand and use their own teaching mentorship styles, thus requiring that we measure aspects of sample members’ subjective understanding of this phenomenon. Therefore, we set out to answer the following research question: What are counselor educators’ preferred styles of engaging in teaching mentorships with CEDS?
Method
Because Q methodology objectively analyzes subjective phenomena, such as people’s preferences and opinions on a topic (Stephenson, 1935), it was selected for this study to reveal the structure of counselor educators’ perspectives (i.e., factors) on the teaching mentorship styles used for preparing CEDS to teach. Q methodology embodies the relative strengths of quantitative and qualitative methodologies by drawing on the depth and richness of qualitative data and the objective rigor of factor analysis to analyze data (Shemmings, 2006).
Participants
The participants (N = 25) eligible for this study: (a) were currently employed as a full-time faculty member in a counselor education doctoral program and (b) had accrued at least one year of experience mentoring CEDS in graduate teaching as a counselor educator. Twenty-five is a sufficient number given that Q methodology simply seeks to establish, understand, and compare individuals’ self-referent views expressed through the Q sort process (Brown, 1980). Participants were both conveniently sampled (n = 10) from counselor educators attending a workshop on Q methodology and purposefully sampled (n = 15) through recruitment emails sent to faculty members at several prominent counselor education doctoral programs in the Eastern (n = 7), Midwestern (n = 10), and Southern (n = 8) regions of the United States. Data were collected from participants by mailing packets that contained an informed consent, basic demographic questionnaire, Q sort, post–Q sort questionnaire, and a postage-prepaid return envelope. (Additional participant demographics are shown in Table 1). Note, we abstained from collecting certain demographic data (e.g., race, ethnicity, university type) from participants in response to their stated concerns about anonymity during data collection. Also, participants in this study were those that completed Q sorts (N = 25) versus those (N = 54) counselor educators used to generate the concourse described below.
Table 1
Demographics of Participants (N = 25)
Age n (%) Rank n (%)
25–30 1 (4%) Full Professor 5 (20%)
31–40 7 (28%) Associate Professor 8 (32%)
41–50 5 (20%) Assistant Professor 12 (48%)
51–60 9 (36%)
61–65+ 3 (12%)
Gender n (%) Tenure Status n (%)
Female 13 (52%) Tenured 13 (52%)
Male 12 (48%) Untenured 12 (48%)
Years of Teaching
Mentorship Experience n (%)
1–5 9 (36%)
6–10 3 (12%)
11–15 6 (24%)
16–20 4 (16%)
Concourse Generation and Selecting Items for the Q Sample
Q methodology studies begin with creating a concourse, or a collection of thoughts or sentiments about a topic (Stephenson, 1978), which serves as the source material for selecting items for the Q sample. To generate the concourse for this study, 54 counselor educators, each with a minimum of one year of experience mentoring doctoral students in graduate teaching, were solicited on a counseling listserv (see Table 2). Counselor educators each provided 5–10 opinion statements on teacher mentorship approaches for working with CEDS in response to one open-ended question: What are your preferred approaches to mentoring CEDS in teaching? This process resulted in 432 opinion statements. However, this was too many statements for participants to rank order during the Q sort process. Accordingly, a 2 x 2 factorial design based on Kram’s (1985) career and psychosocial mentorship types and Borders et al.’s (2012) formal and informal mentoring styles was used as a theoretical guide to obtain a reduced yet representative subset (sample) of statements from the concourse (for additional information on Q sample construction, see Paige & Morin, 2016).
Table 2
Demographics of Counselor Educators Providing Opinion Statements for Concourse (N = 54)
Age n (%) Racial Identity n (%)
25–30 0 (0%) African American 4 (7%)
31–35 8 (15%) Native American/Indigenous 1 (2%)
36–40 13 (24%) Caucasian 38 (70%)
41–45 7 (13%) Hispanic/Latino(a)/Chicano(a) 5 (9%)
46–50 4 (7%) Multiracial 3 (6%)
51–55 7 (13%) Biracial 3 (6%)
56–60 7 (13%)
61–65 4 (7%)
66–70 3 (6%)
71–75+ 1 (2%)
Gender n (%) Primary Professional Identity n (%)
Female 33 (61%) Counselor Educator 51 (94%)
Male 19 (35%) School Counselor Educator 3 (6%)
Transgender 1 (2%)
Gender Fluid 1 (2%)
Sexual Identity n (%) Academic Rank n (%)
Lesbian 3 (6%) Professor 9 (17%)
Gay 4 (7%) Associate Professor 18 (33%)
Bisexual 4 (7%) Assistant Professor 27 (50%)
Heterosexual 43 (80%)
First, the lead author organized the 432 statements into two broad categories: informal and formal mentoring styles (Borders et al., 2012). Duplicate, fragmented, and unclear statements were identified and eliminated in this step. Then, the remaining 96 statements (i.e., 48 statements in the informal and formal categories, respectively) were each cross-referenced with two mentoring types (i.e., psychosocial and career; Kram, 1985). Similar to the first step, the lead author reviewed the content of each statement and eliminated any statements containing duplicate, fragmented, or unclear language, resulting in 52 statements across four domains: 13 statements representing informal and career, 13 statements representing informal and psychosocial, 13 statements representing formal and career, and 13 statements representing formal and psychosocial. Finally, the first author eliminated four and reworded two of the 52 statements after they were reviewed by the second, third, and fourth authors, resulting in a final sample of 48 statements (12 statements per domain). This final group of statements is called the Q sample, which in this case is a collection of statements that represent counselor educators’ perspectives on how to mentor CEDS in teaching. The 48-item Q sample constructed by the first author was reviewed by the second, third, and fourth authors to ensure that each item was unique and did not overlap with other statements, and was applicable to the study. The final Q sample was given to participants for rank ordering during the Q sort process.
Q Sort Process
After Institutional Review Board approval was obtained, 25 participants completed the Q sort process. During the Q sort process, participants were prompted to reflect on their personal experiences of mentoring teaching to CEDS and then asked to rank order the 48 items in the Q sample on a forced-choice frequency distribution, shown in Table 3. Participants indicated a conscribed number of items with which they most agreed (+4) to items with which they least agreed (-4) along the distribution. Items placed in the middle of the rank order indicated statements about which participants were neutral or ambivalent. After finishing the rank ordering of items, participants were asked to provide brief post–Q sort written responses for the top two or three statements with which they most and least agreed, which were incorporated into the factor interpretations found in the results section below.
Table 3
Q Sort Forced-Choice Frequency Distribution
Ranking Value – 4 -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 +4
Number of Items 3 4 6 7 8 7 6 4 3
Data Analysis
Twenty-five completed Q sorts were entered into the PQMethod software program V. 2.35 (Schmolck & Atkinson, 2012). The PQMethod software creates a by-person correlation matrix (i.e., the “intercorrelation of each Q sort with every other Q sort”) used to facilitate factor analysis and subsequent factor rotation (Watts & Stenner, 2012, p. 97). The purpose of factor analysis in Q methodology is to group small numbers of participants with similar views into factors in the form of Q sorts (Brown, 1980). Factor analysis helps researchers rigorously reveal subjective patterns that could be overlooked via qualitative analysis. A 3-factor solution was selected to provide the highest number of significant factor loadings associated with each factor (Watts & Stenner, 2012). Factors were then rotated using varimax criteria with hand rotation adjustments in order to best reveal groupings of individuals with similar Q sorts. The factor rotations increased the total number of significant factor loadings from 17 to 20 of 25 participants, shown in Table 4.
We approached analyzing and interpreting each factor in the context of all other factors to provide a holistic factor interpretation, versus favoring specific items (i.e., factor scores, +4 or -4) over others within a particular factor (Watts & Stenner, 2012). To do so, a worksheet was created from the factor array (see Table 5) for each individual factor containing the highest and lowest ranked items within the factor and those items ranked lower within the factor compared to other factors. Second, items in the worksheets were compared to participants’ demographic and qualitative responses associated with that factor in order to add depth and detail before the final step. Finally, the finished worksheets were used for constructing the factor interpretation narratives, which are written as a story containing the viewpoint of the factor as a whole.
Table 4
Rotated Factor Loadings for Supervisor (1), Facilitator (2), and Evaluator (3)
Q Sort Factor 1 Factor 2 Factor 3
Supervisor Facilitator Evaluator
1 .05 .74 .07
2 .47 .46 .30
3 .13 .60 .24
4 .02 -.13 .76
5 .51 .26 -.23
6 .60 .25 -.16
7 .18 .48 .03
8 .55 .37 .24
9 .54 .17 .13
10 .70 .16 .14
11 .53 .17 .34
12 .54 -.11 .25
13 .22 .48 .16
14 .52 .40 -.04
15 .34 .15 .53
16 .41 .13 .19
17 .10 .39 .33
18 .19 .32 .47
19 .26 .73 .05
20 .27 .04 .12
21 .36 .26 .11
22 .13 .40 .54
23 .10 .55 .03
24 .20 .39 .50
25 .32 .46 .08
Note. Significant loading > .43 are in boldface
Results
The data analysis revealed the existence of three different viewpoints (i.e., factors 1, 2, 3) on mentoring CEDS in graduate teaching. We named the factors Supervisor (F1), Facilitator (F2), and Evaluator (F3), respectively, and included those names in the factor interpretations below to best represent the distinguishing teaching mentorship characteristics of the groups of individuals associated with each factor. The resulting three factors accounted for 37% of the total variance in the correlation matrix. Note that sole reliance on statistical criteria, such as the proportion of variance, is discouraged in Q methodology. This is because a factor may hold theoretical interest and have contextual relevance that may be overlooked if only a statistical basis for interpreting subjective factors is used (Brown, 1980). Twenty of the 25 participants loaded significantly on one of the three factors. Factor loadings of > .43 were significant at the p < 0.01 level. Factor 1 had eight participants with significant loadings, accounting for 14% of the variance. Factor 2 had seven participants with significant loadings, accounting for 15% of the variance, whereas Factor 3 had five participants with significant loadings, accounting for 9% of the variance. Five of the 25 Q sorts were non-significant; four participants’ Q sorts were non-significant (X < .43) and one was confounded, meaning the factor scores for that participant were associated with more than one factor.
Table 5
48-Item Q Sample Factor Array With Factor Scores
| Item |
STATEMENT |
FACTOR SCORES
1 2 3 |
| 1 |
Viewing doctoral students’ life experiences as complementary to those of the faculty teaching mentor. |
-3 |
0 |
-1 |
| 2 |
Exposing doctoral students to progressively more challenging teaching roles with faculty supervision. |
0 |
0 |
3 |
| 3 |
Guiding doctoral students to complete a teaching practicum and/or internship as part of their doctoral training. |
2 |
1 |
1 |
| 4 |
Sharing teaching resources with doctoral students (e.g., group activities, discussion prompts, assignments, etc.). |
-1 |
1 |
0 |
| 5 |
Maintaining a reputation among doctoral students as a quality teacher by modeling and demonstrating quality teaching. |
0 |
2 |
-1 |
| 6 |
Giving doctoral students examples from your own teaching on how to overcome teaching challenges. |
4 |
-3 |
-2 |
| 7 |
Having doctoral students rehearse teaching strategies (e.g., lectures, activities) prior to implementing them in the classroom. |
-2 |
-3 |
-3 |
| 8 |
Defining for doctoral students their teaching roles in and out of the classroom. |
-1 |
-2 |
0 |
| 9 |
Modeling best practices in teaching to facilitate the development of doctoral students’ teaching styles. |
-1 |
1 |
-2 |
| 10 |
Having doctoral students facilitate portions of a course under supervision as part of co-teaching, a course assignment, and so forth. |
3 |
3 |
1 |
| 11 |
Having doctoral students develop and discuss a teaching philosophy. |
0 |
-2 |
2 |
| 12 |
Teaching doctoral students to develop rubrics and grade student assignments. |
-2 |
-1 |
0 |
| 13 |
Providing doctoral students with a safe space to acknowledge their teaching mistakes. |
4 |
4 |
1 |
| 14 |
Assisting doctoral students with incorporating technology and course management systems (e.g., Blackboard) into the teaching process. |
-2 |
-2 |
-4 |
| 15 |
Holding doctoral students to high level of accountability regarding their teaching and learning practices. |
0 |
0 |
4 |
| 16 |
Having doctoral students teach a portion of a class under faculty supervision. |
2 |
3 |
1 |
| 17 |
Immersing doctoral students in teaching environments in a sink-or-swim manner with no advice, preparation, or supervision. |
-4 |
-4 |
-1 |
| 18 |
Having doctoral students co-teach an entire course with faculty members and/or experienced peers. |
4 |
0 |
2 |
| 19 |
Providing strengths-based feedback and support regarding teaching. |
0 |
4 |
0 |
| 20 |
Interacting with doctoral students as colleagues or equals. |
-3 |
3 |
-4 |
| 21 |
Teaching doctoral students to evaluate their teaching effectiveness and student learning. |
1 |
1 |
4 |
| 22 |
Providing doctoral students with specific examples of how to address student issues. |
3 |
-1 |
0 |
| 23 |
Acting as a “sounding board” when doctoral students need to discuss their feelings about teaching. |
0 |
3 |
-3 |
| 24 |
Promoting the creation of critical learning environments where doctoral students are asked to apply higher order cognitive skills (e.g., Bloom’s Taxonomy). |
-3 |
-2 |
4 |
| 25 |
Assisting doctoral students with identifying challenging student behaviors. |
1 |
1 |
2 |
| 26 |
Encouraging doctoral students with teaching experience to engage in mentoring of their peers’ teaching. |
-4 |
-1 |
-3 |
| 27 |
Assisting doctoral students with preparing lectures, activities, and discussion topics. |
-2 |
-1 |
-2 |
| 28 |
Focusing on a broad range of learning and instructional theories when grounding one’s teaching approach. |
-2 |
-3 |
2 |
| 29 |
Having doctoral students participate in a formal course on pedagogy. |
-1 |
-4 |
2 |
| 30 |
Encouraging doctoral students to implement refined teaching approaches after receiving feedback from teaching mentors. |
3 |
-1 |
1 |
| 31 |
Disclosing to doctoral students the ways that faculty members developed their teaching practice, including successes and mistakes. |
2 |
1 |
-2 |
| 32 |
Supporting doctoral students’ solo teaching opportunities (e.g., to lead a class). |
1 |
2 |
0 |
| 33 |
Providing both candid and immediate feedback to doctoral students about their teaching
performance. |
2 |
0 |
0 |
| 34 |
Having doctoral students identify the verbal and nonverbal behaviors that contribute to
building teacher–student rapport. |
-1 |
-1 |
-1 |
| 35 |
Nurturing professionalism in teaching during faculty–doctoral student interactions. |
-3 |
4 |
3 |
| 36 |
Talking to doctoral students about how their life experiences influence their approach to
teaching. |
-4 |
0 |
-1 |
| 37 |
Providing doctoral students with readings on pedagogy. |
1 |
-4 |
2 |
| 38 |
Having doctoral students participate in designing a course. |
2 |
0 |
-2 |
| 39 |
Having doctoral students observe faculty and experienced peers’ teaching. |
-1 |
-2 |
-1 |
| 40 |
Inviting doctoral students to discuss their clinical/school counseling experiences while in a teaching role in the classroom. |
1 |
2 |
-3 |
| 41 |
Assisting doctoral students with developing a syllabus. |
2 |
-1 |
-4 |
| 42 |
Planning before class with doctoral students before they engage in teaching activities. |
1 |
-3 |
-2 |
| 43 |
Discussing boundaries and other ethical concerns regarding teaching. |
0 |
0 |
3 |
| 44 |
Facilitating opportunities to improve doctoral students’ confidence and comfort about teaching. |
-1 |
2 |
-1 |
| 45 |
Helping doctoral students with understanding the variables and actions linked to an improved learning environment. |
-2 |
0 |
1 |
| 46 |
Assisting doctoral students with linking specific learning theories to course content/topic areas. |
0 |
-3 |
1 |
| 47 |
Teaching doctoral students to remain empathic to students’ worldviews by using worldview-affirming language. |
3 |
2 |
3 |
| 48 |
Discussing with doctoral students why instructional decisions were made in the classroom. |
1 |
2 |
0 |
The three factors contain factor exemplars merged to form a single ideal Q sort for each factor, called a factor array (Watts & Stenner, 2012). The factor array, which contains the 48 Q sample items and the associated factor scores for Factors 1 through 3, is found in Table 5. The factor array contains factor scores calculated by weighted averages in which higher-loading Q sorts are given more weight in the averaging process because they better exemplify the factor. It is the factor scores contained in the factor array versus participants’ factor loadings that are used for factor interpretation. Note that parenthetical references to Q sample items and commensurate factor scores (e.g., item 24, +4) provide contextual reference for each of the factor interpretations below.
Factor 1: Supervisor
Eight (32%) of the 25 participants were associated with factor 1. Factor 1 mentors (i.e., Supervisors) view mentoring in teaching as a process that begins with CEDS co-teaching an entire course under the supervision of a faculty member or experienced peer (item 18, +4). Providing CEDS with real-world teaching examples from faculty members’ teaching experiences (item 6, +4) and a safe space to acknowledge teaching mistakes (item 13, +4) are defined as key mentoring processes for Factor 1. In so doing, Supervisors provide candid and immediate feedback about CEDS’ teaching performance (item 33, +2) and incorporate examples from their mentors’ own teaching successes and mistakes as part of the feedback (item 31, +2). These points are illustrated by one participant in her post–Q sort responses: “As a doctoral student, I appreciated receiving honest real-talk feedback (about teaching), which rarely happened. Now, when I mentor students, I tell folks what I really think in a kind but frank manner.” Supervisors encourage CEDS to implement refined teaching approaches after receiving candid feedback about their teaching. Additionally, Supervisors regularly plan before class with CEDS before they engage in teaching activities (item 42, +1). CEDS engage in syllabus development (item 41, +2) and course design (item 38, +2), versus sharing teaching resources (item 4, -1) and linking teaching variables to improved learning environments (item 45, -2), both of which are, as one participant remarked, “assumed to be part of the mentoring process.” Supervisors prefer that CEDS complete formal practica or internships as part of their doctoral training (item 3, +2).
Supervisors employ both formal (e.g., co-teaching, practica and internships, and regular pre-class planning) and informal (e.g., real-world examples, candid feedback, and appropriate professional disclosure about teaching) mentoring practices intended for students’ incremental professional development as teachers (Baltrinic et al., 2016). Supervisors’ teaching mentorship style is guided by the belief that experienced faculty members versus less-experienced peers are critical for influencing the development of doctoral students’ teaching skills (item 26, -4), more so than Factors 2 and 3. And, although Supervisors agree that no doctoral student should learn to teach in a sink-or-swim manner (item 17, -4), the Supervisor takes a less nurturing, or life experience–based approach to mentoring (items 1, -3; 35, -3; and 36, -4 respectively) than Factors 2 and 3. A less nurturing approach may be difficult to understand given the nature of mentoring itself. Keep in mind that what is central to Supervisors’ views on mentoring is the instructive and real-world supervision of students’ structured teaching activities over time, which does not preclude faculty members valuing students’ life experience or nurturing their development; rather, these are not central drivers for preferred mentoring interactions between faculty members and students.
Factor 2: Facilitator
Seven (28%) of the 25 participants agreed with Factor 2, which we have titled Facilitator. Facilitators are distinguished as mentors who nurture professionalism during faculty–student interactions (item 35, +4) and provide feedback and support using a strengths-based approach regarding CEDS’ teaching (item 19, +4). Similar to Supervisors (Factor 1), Facilitators provide CEDS with a safe space in the mentoring relationship to acknowledge teaching mistakes (item 13, +4). However, Facilitators favor providing supportive versus corrective or formal feedback (item 30, -1) as central to the mentoring relationship—described aptly by one participant as “I am not big on structured pedagogical teaching. In other words, modeling and supportive discussion can serve the mentor well.” It stands to reason that Facilitators prefer to maintain a reputation as a quality teacher by modeling and demonstrating best practices in teaching (item 5, +2), and thereby extend this practice to facilitate the development of CEDS’ teaching styles (item 9, +1). Accordingly, Facilitators do not approach mentoring in teaching by providing CEDS with formal readings on pedagogy, or have them participate in a formal course on pedagogy (items 29, -4 and 37, -4 respectively). Instead, Facilitators prefer to discuss with CEDS why they made teaching decisions in the classroom without being prescriptive (item 48, +2).
Facilitators approach mentoring by treating CEDS as colleagues or equals during the teaching experience (item 20, +3) and by creating opportunities for them to improve their comfort and confidence when teaching (item 44, +2). When providing feedback, Facilitators act as sounding boards for CEDS to express their feelings about teaching (item 23, +3). For example, noted in one participant’s post–Q sort response, “We learn the most through our own discomfort, so a mentor serving as a sounding board is very important.” Facilitators are more interested than Supervisors or Evaluators (Factor 3) in how CEDS’ life experiences influence their approach to teaching (item 36, 0). In the classroom, Facilitators invite CEDS to discuss their clinical or school counseling experiences when teaching (item 40, +2). In contrast with the Supervisor and the Evaluator, the Facilitator will share examples of their own teaching resources with CEDS (item 4, +1). In general, Facilitators prefer to have CEDS formally teach a portion of a class under their supervision (item 16, +3), versus having them co-teach an entire class or be thrown into teaching in a sink-or-swim manner (item 17, -4).
Facilitators avoid helping CEDS overcome teaching challenges through examples from their own teaching (item 6, -3) or by providing specific examples to address issues. Overall, Facilitators prefer not to define teaching roles for CEDS (item 8, -2), pre-plan specific activities before class (item 42, -3), provide particular learning theories to address specific course content (item 46, -3), or impose on the learning environment (item 28, -3). Finally, Facilitators do not prefer to provide CEDS with feedback that they should use to refine and subsequently implement during future teaching endeavors (item 30, -1), which is not surprising given the relational and discovery-oriented focus of this factor’s approach to mentoring in teaching.
Factor 3: The Evaluator
Factor 3, the Evaluator, included five (20%) of the 25 participants. Evaluators create a critical learning environment for CEDS to use higher order cognitive skills (item 24, +4) while helping them to evaluate their teaching effectiveness and student learning (item 21, +4). Additionally, Evaluators create a safe space for CEDS to acknowledge their mistakes (item 13, +1) and offer corrective feedback as a way for them to refine their teaching (item 30, +1). Unlike Facilitators in Factor 2, Evaluators do not interact with CEDS as colleagues or equals (item 20, -4), initiate conversations about students’ feelings (item 23, -3), or promote students’ confidence and comfort (item 44, -1) about teaching as a central part of mentorship. Instead, Evaluators come from a directive teaching perspective and place an emphasis on content-driven mentorship. Fittingly, Evaluators have high expectations of CEDS to learn and study critical components of teaching and guide students accordingly. Evaluators provide CEDS with readings on pedagogy (item 37, +2) and expose students to a range of learning and instructional theories (item 28, +2). Evaluators also place high value on CEDS taking a formal class on pedagogy (item 29, +2), distinguishing themselves from Supervisors and Facilitators, who rated teaching-related course work as less important.
Although Evaluators make students aware of ethical concerns while teaching (item 42, -2) and identify specific techniques linked to improved learning (item 45, +1), other pragmatic aspects of teaching are given less attention. For example, Evaluators place minimal importance on rubric development and grading practices (item 12, 0) and course design (item 38, -2), and even less importance on developing a syllabus (item 41, -4) and incorporating technology or course management systems into the teaching process (item 14, -4). This is a stark difference from Supervisors in Factor 1, who placed higher value on some of these responsibilities. And Supervisors emphasize skill development, whereas Evaluators stress creating a strong theoretical foundation to guide CEDS’ teaching tasks.
Classroom experiences, though secondary to learning theory and techniques, also are important aspects to mentorship for participants grouped in Factor 3. Evaluators supervise CEDS as they teach portions of courses (item 10, +1) or take on solo teaching opportunities (item 32, 0). In these circumstances, Evaluators hold CEDS to high levels of accountability in terms of their teaching and learning practices (item 15, +4), as opposed to their counterparts in Factors 1 and 2, who rate the importance of accountability more neutrally. One participant illustrates the importance of accountability: “I want doctoral students to know the how, what, and why of where they are going in the classroom, otherwise their students may end up somewhere else. Educators need to be responsible for accounting for students’ outcomes.” Offering feedback to improve teaching is a key aspect of the mentoring process for Evaluators as mentors and students evaluate these hands-on teaching experiences (item 30, +1). These experiences may be critical for Evaluators to assess CEDS’ learning and abilities, gradually exposing them to more challenging teaching roles (item 2, +3).
Throughout the mentorship process, Evaluators place CEDS’ learning and teaching practice at the center of interactions. Whereas Supervisors and Facilitators share their teaching experiences with CEDS, Evaluators avoid conversation about successes or mistakes in their teacher development (item 21, +4). Furthermore, Evaluators do not believe their reputations as quality teachers (item 5, -1) nor their modeling of best practices in teaching is relevant to CEDS’ development of teaching styles (item 9, -2). Instead, Evaluators keep themselves in a distant position during the course of mentorship. Key teaching mentorship interactions are characterized as student-centered and include discussion of their unique teaching philosophies (item 11, +2), exploration of the intentionality behind the instructional decisions they make in classrooms (item 48, 0), and evaluation of their teaching effectiveness (item 21, +4). Consequently, the mentorship style of Evaluators is directive but student-focused, with emphasis on mentees learning and reflecting upon various pedagogical theories and practices as they develop into teachers.
Discussion
Three different perspectives (i.e., Supervisor, Facilitator, and Evaluator) exist among counselor educators of preferred ways to mentor CEDS in teaching. The three perspectives could be conceptualized as different styles of mentorship that are used by counselor educators. Although each perspective is unique, we noticed areas of agreement among counselor educators on using certain formal (e.g., co-teaching), informal (e.g. affirming worldviews), and combinations of mentoring approaches (Borders et al., 2011). These areas of agreement are similar to mentorship experiences in research with CEDS (Borders et al., 2012). The findings of this study also reinforce that mentoring is a complex process in which mentors fill a variety of roles and initiate multiple activities (Casto et al., 2005). Overall, results lend support for teaching mentorship also supported by the literature. For example, Silverman’s (2003) suggestions that learning about pedagogy, having teaching experiences, and working closely with an experienced mentor who facilitates pedagogical conversations are helpful for preparing future faculty members. Though the pairing procedures between participants and students were unknown (e.g., intentionally paired, general guidance; Borders et al., 2011), each factor in this study contained some combination of formal (e.g., planned readings or activities) and informal (e.g., in-the-moment conversations, minimal planning) approaches to mentoring, which is consistent with other findings on preparing CEDS to teach (Baltrinic et al., 2016).
Both career and psychosocial mentoring types are embodied within the three factors reported in the current study, the findings of which support and extend the work of Kram (1985) by providing examples specific to teaching mentorship styles. The Evaluator and the Supervisor perspectives contain career components, as they are knowledge and skill driven, respectively. The Facilitator perspective is reflective of Kram’s psychosocial type, as it is the most relational, exploratory, and insight-oriented perspective of the three. Though career and psychosocial properties overlap between factors (e.g., skill building, feedback, support), each mentoring perspective has one that is a central characteristic.
The combination of career and psychosocial (Kram, 1985) mentoring types evident in the results also are highlighted in other counselor education mentorship guidelines. Similar to the Association for Counselor Education and Supervision research mentorship model (Borders et al., 2012), participants noted the importance of mentors demonstrating and transferring teaching-oriented knowledge and skills to mentees, as well as providing constructive feedback. Other mentor characteristics and tactics, such as facilitating student self-assessment and accountability, modeling, and creating a supportive and open relationship (Black et al., 2004; Briggs & Pehrsson, 2008), are reflected in the current findings on teacher mentoring approaches. For some participants, maintaining a nurturing and supportive environment was of utmost importance, which also has been noted as essential for mentoring CEDS (Casto et al., 2005).
Borders et al. (2011) specifically noted the importance of mentoring graduate students who aspire to be faculty and, though minimally, addressed pedagogy support by offering teaching opportunities to students and engaging them in conversation about their experiences. The current research findings expand on Borders and colleagues’ position by providing ideas on what these conversations might entail. All three factors identified teacher-related topics of conversation and relevant activities, including teaching philosophies, skills, and tasks; pedagogical and learning theories; monitoring student interactions; classroom ethics and boundaries; and self-efficacy associated with teacher development. This offers some unique ideas on topics of interest that may be incorporated into conversations when mentoring students in teaching.
A practical component to teaching mentorships is represented within the factors. Rather than culminating in a product, such as co-written publications developed in research mentoring (Briggs & Pehrsson, 2008), each of the three teaching mentorship factors guide CEDS through applied teaching experiences. These hands-on teaching opportunities provided experiences for CEDS to work through and reflect upon, and offered material for mentors to provide feedback. The extent of student involvement in teaching varied, as did the direction of conversations (e.g., corrective, exploratory); nevertheless, some mentoring tasks were built from observable and enacted teaching moments.
Implications for Counselor Education Programs and Counselor Educators
We believe that it may be helpful for faculty members in positions of leadership (i.e., department chairs, doctoral program coordinators) in counselor education doctoral programs to infuse awareness of teaching mentorship practices among other faculty members. Senior counselor education faculty members responsible for coordinating doctoral programs may be able to create more impactful mentorship experiences for CEDS by encouraging other faculty members to become more aware of their mentorship practices. Several researchers have suggested that quality mentorship is associated with counselor education faculty members who demonstrate intentionality in their mentorship practices (Black et al., 2004; Casto et al., 2005). Findings from this study can generate discussion and self-assessment among faculty members, leading to a clearer understanding of different mentoring styles that exist within a department or program. As different mentoring styles are identified among faculty members, it may help to consider ways to match CEDS with faculty members who will be a good fit for their preferred learning style.
Similarly, we also believe that counselor educators mentoring CEDS in teaching can benefit from being reflective about their own style of mentorship. It may be helpful to consider one’s personal style of mentorship in relation to the styles of teaching mentorship (i.e., Supervisor, Facilitator, and Evaluator) highlighted in this study. Counselor educators who identify with a particular teaching mentorship style may discuss this with CEDS early in the mentorship process to facilitate a goodness of fit. In situations in which CEDS do not have the opportunity to select a mentor of their choosing, it may be particularly important for counselor educators to consider how their style of mentorship will fit with their mentee. It may help counselor educators identifying with a singular style of mentorship to integrate strengths from other styles of mentorship into their practice. For example, a counselor educator who closely identifies with the Supervisor style may benefit from increasing the amount of strength-based feedback they provide mentees (i.e., associated with the Facilitator), or by being more methodical about gradually increasingly their mentees exposure to challenging teaching experiences (i.e., associated with the Evaluator).
Limitations and Recommendations for Future Research
Q studies are not generalizable in the same way as other quantitative studies. The data in this study represent subjective perspectives; thus, results are viewed similar to qualitative studies (Watts & Stenner, 2012). However, Q results offer an additional rigor derived from the factor analysis of the participants’ respective Q sorts. Results from this study pertain to mentoring CEDS in aspects of pedagogy and not clinical teaching or clinical experiences. Future Q methodology studies can use purposeful samples of diverse particpants with a range of pedagogy and clinical teaching experiences, and use participants from a wider range of regions within the United States. Examining students’ and faculty members’ critical incidents during teaching mentorships may increase understanding of respective mentor and mentee perspectives. Future studies distinguishing teacher mentorship from research mentorship would be useful. Finally, investigating the specific practices of the three factor types through single-case studies could provide in-depth perspectives on faculty members’ teaching mentorship styles.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest or funding contributions for the development of this manuscript.
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Eric R. Baltrinic is an assistant professor at Winona State University. Randall M. Moate is an assistant professor at the University of Texas at Tyler. Michelle Gimenez Hinkle is an assistant professor at William Paterson University. Marty Jencius is an associate professor at Kent State University. Jessica Z. Taylor is an assistant professor at Central Methodist University. Correspondence can be addressed to Eric Baltrinic, Gildemeister 116A, P.O. Box 5838, 175 West Mark Street, Winona, MN 55987-5838, ebaltrinic@gmail.com.
Feb 5, 2017 | Volume 7 - Issue 1
A. Elizabeth Crunk, Sejal M. Barden
Numerous models of clinical supervision have been developed; however, there is little empirical support indicating that any one model is superior. Therefore, common factors approaches to supervision integrate essential components that are shared among counseling and supervision models. The purpose of this paper is to present an innovative model of clinical supervision, the Common Factors Discrimination Model (CFDM), which integrates the common factors of counseling and supervision approaches with the specific factors of Bernard’s discrimination model for a structured approach to common factors supervision. Strategies and recommendations for implementing the CFDM in clinical supervision are discussed.
Keywords: supervision, common factors, specific factors, discrimination model, counselor education
Clinical supervision is a cornerstone of counselor training (Barnett, Erickson Cornish, Goodyear, & Lichtenberg, 2007) and serves the cardinal functions of providing support and instruction to supervisees while ensuring the welfare of clients and the counseling profession (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014). Numerous models of clinical supervision have been developed, varying in emphasis from models based on theories of psychotherapy, to those that focus on the developmental needs of the supervisee, to models that emphasize the process of supervision and the various roles of the supervisor (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014). However, despite the abundance of available supervision models, there is little evidence to support that any one approach is superior to another (Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007; Storm, Todd, Sprenkle, & Morgan, 2001). Thus, a growing body of clinical supervision literature underscores a need for strategies that integrate the most effective elements of supervision models into a parsimonious approach rather than emphasizing differences between models (Lampropoulos, 2002; Milne, Aylott, Fitzpatrick, & Ellis, 2008; Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007; Watkins, Budge, & Callahan, 2015). Common factors models of supervision bridge the various approaches to supervision by identifying the essential components that are shared across models, such as the supervisory relationship, the provision of feedback, and supervisee acquisition of new knowledge and skills (Milne et al., 2008; Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007). Other common factors approaches to supervision draw on psychotherapy outcome research, aiming to extrapolate common factors of counseling and psychotherapy—such as the therapeutic relationship and the instillation of hope—to clinical supervision approaches (Lampropoulos, 2002; Watkins et al., 2015)
Although reviews of the supervision literature allude to commonalities among supervision approaches (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014), there is a dearth of published literature offering practical strategies for bridging common factors of counseling and supervision. Perhaps even more limited is literature that addresses the necessary convergence of both common and specific factors, or the integration of common factors of supervision with particular interventions that are applied in various supervision approaches (e.g., role-playing or Socratic questioning; Watkins et al., 2015). In a recent article, Watkins and colleagues (2015) proposed a supervision model that extrapolates Wampold and Budge’s (2012) psychotherapy relationship model to specific factors of supervision, encouraging supervisors to apply such relationship common factors to some form of supervision. However, there remains a need for a structured approach to supervision that integrates the common factors of counseling and supervision with the specific factors of commonly used, empirically supported models of clinical supervision.
Because the common factors are, by definition, elements that are shared among theories of counseling and supervision, it can be argued that common factors approaches can be applied to almost any supervision model. However, we argue for the integration of common factors with the discrimination model for several reasons. First, the relationship has been found to be the essential common factor shared among counseling (Lambert & Barley, 2001; Norcross & Lambert, 2014) and supervision approaches, and is often cited as the most critical element of effective supervision and other change-inducing relationships, such as counseling, teaching and coaching (Lampropoulos, 2002; Ramos-Sánchez et al., 2002). The supervisory roles of teacher, counselor and consultant are built into the discrimination model, providing supervisors with natural avenues for fostering a strong supervisory relationship. However, the proposed Common Factors Discrimination Model (CFDM) expands on the discrimination model by providing specific recommendations for how supervisors might use such roles as opportunities for developing and maintaining the supervisory relationship. Second, we consider Bernard’s (1979, 1997) discrimination model to lend itself well to common factors approaches to supervision, as both are concerned with process aspects of supervision, such as tailoring supervision interventions to the needs of the supervisee. Finally, because the discrimination model is widely used by practicing supervisors (Timm, 2015), common factors approaches are likely to fit naturally with customary supervision practices of more experienced supervisors who espouse the discrimination model, yet the CFDM is concise enough for novice supervisors to grasp and apply. Thus, the purpose of this manuscript is to build on Watkins and colleagues’ (2015) model by presenting the CFDM, an innovative approach to supervision that converges common factors identified in both counseling and supervision and integrates them with the specific factors of Bernard’s (1979, 1997) discrimination model. Specifically, we will (a) review the relevant literature on common factors approaches to counseling and supervision and the discrimination model; (b) provide a rationale for a model of supervision that integrates the specific factors of the discrimination model with a common factors approach; and (c) offer strategies and recommendations for applying the CFDM in clinical supervision.
The Common Factors Approach
The notion of therapeutic common factors resulted from psychotherapy outcome research suggesting that psychotherapies yield equivalent outcomes when compared against each other and, thus, what makes psychotherapy effective is not the differences between therapies, but rather the commonalities among them (Lambert, 1986). Wampold’s (2001) landmark research revealed that the theoretical approach utilized by the therapist (e.g., psychodynamic therapy) explained less than 1% of therapy outcome. In light of these findings, researchers and clinicians have been urged to minimize the importance placed on specific clinical techniques and interventions; instead, an emphasis on the commonalities among therapies that are associated with positive outcomes (Norcross & Lambert, 2011), such as the therapeutic alliance, empathy, positive regard, and collaboration within the therapeutic relationship (Norcross & Lambert, 2014; Norcross & Wampold, 2011), is more useful for describing therapeutic changes.
Among the most influential common factors approaches is Lambert’s model of therapeutic factors (see Lambert & Barley, 2001, for a review). Although lacking in stringent meta-analytic or statistical methods, Lambert and Barley (2001) presented four primary factors that are shared among therapeutic approaches (with the percentage that each factor contributes to therapy outcome indicated): (a) extratherapeutic factors (i.e., factors associated with the client, as well as his or her environment; 40%); (b) common factors (i.e., relationship factors such as empathy, warmth, positive regard, supporting the client in taking risks; 30%); (c) placebo, hope, and expectancy factors (i.e., the client’s hope and expectancy for improvement, as well as trust in the treatment; 15%); and (d) skills/techniques factors (i.e., components specific to various therapies, such as empty chair or relaxation techniques; 15%). Although a variety of common factors have been identified in the psychotherapy outcome research, numerous meta-analyses have identified the therapeutic relationship as the sine qua non (Norcross & Lambert, 2011, p. 12) of common factors that account for positive outcomes irrespective of the specific treatment utilized (Norcross & Wampold, 2011). They stated: “although we deplore the mindless dichotomy between relationship and method in psychotherapy, we also need to publicly proclaim what decades of research have discovered and what tens of thousands of relational therapists have witnessed: The relationship can heal” (Norcross & Lambert, 2014, p. 400).
Although the common factors are necessary for producing positive counseling outcomes, this does not mean that specific factors are irrelevant (Norcross & Lambert, 2011). On the contrary, prior research indicates that engaging in specific treatment interventions is associated with the working alliance and with positive counseling outcomes (Tryon & Winograd, 2011; Wampold & Budge, 2012). Watkins and colleagues (2015) noted that treatment interventions are necessary in maintaining client hope and expectations for positive counseling outcomes, stating, “The specific ingredients create benefits through the common factor of expectations, and respecting that interdependent common/specific factor dynamic is vital to treatment outcome” (p. 221).
Common Factors Approaches to Supervision
Although the concept of common factors in counseling and psychotherapy is not a new one and has been the focus of considerable empirical research (Frank, 1982; Lambert & Barley, 2001; Lambert & Ogles, 2004; Rosenzweig, 1936), applying the common factors approach to clinical supervision is relatively novel (Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007). Counseling and clinical supervision are distinct interventions; however, Milne (2006) makes a case for extrapolating findings from psychotherapy research to supervision, as both share common structures and properties of education, skill development, problem-solving and the working alliance. Furthermore, Bernard and Goodyear (2014) noted, “because therapy and supervision are so closely linked, developments in psychotherapy theory inevitably will affect supervision models” (p. 59).
Despite frequent reference to the similarities among supervision models, literature that specifically addresses common factors of supervision approaches is scarce (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014). In our review of the supervision literature, we identified five articles that endorsed common factors approaches to supervision and counselor training (Castonguay, 2000; Lampropoulos, 2002; Milne et al., 2008; Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007; Watkins et al., 2015). Following Castonguay’s (2000) seminal work on training in psychotherapy integration, Lampropoulos (2002) was among the first to address the parallels that exist between common factors of both counseling and supervision, advocating for a theoretically eclectic approach to supervision and for the prescriptive matching of common factors to supervisee needs. For example, Lampropoulos (2002) suggested that supervisors might integrate psychodynamic theory as a means of increasing supervisees’ awareness of countertransference and attachment patterns, or cognitive theory in order to restructure supervisees’ unhelpful thoughts about counseling and supervision.
In contrast to Lampropoulos’s (2002) model, which extrapolates common factors of counseling to supervision, Morgan and Sprenkle (2007) and Milne and colleagues (2008) endorsed approaches that bridge similarities between supervision models. Morgan and Sprenkle (2007) identified a number of common factors among models of supervision, grouping these factors into the following three dimensions falling on their respective continua: (a) emphasis, ranging from specific clinical competence to general professional competence; (b) specificity, ranging from the idiosyncratic needs of supervisees and clients to the general needs of the profession as a whole; and (c) supervisory relationship, ranging from collaborative to directive. The authors (Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007) then proposed a model of supervision that applies these three dimensions of supervision to the supervisor roles of coach, teacher, mentor and administrator. In contrast, Milne and colleagues (2008) conducted a best evidence synthesis of the supervision literature to summarize the current state of empirical research on supervision practices and applied their findings to a basic model of supervision. Although both models (Milne et al., 2008; Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007) contributed viable descriptive models of common factors approaches to supervision, they were limited in providing specific strategies for supervisors to employ in a given situation. Furthermore, neither model specifically addressed the intersection of common factors of counseling and common factors of supervision. Thus, noting that common factors of counseling and specific factors of supervision approaches are interdependently related, Watkins and colleagues (2015) proposed a common/specific factors model, designating the supervisory relationship as the crowning common factor and encouraging supervisors to apply this relationship-centered model to the specific factors of “some form of supervision” (Watkins et al., 2015, p. 226). Following Watkins and colleagues’ recommendations, we therefore present an integrated approach to supervision by applying the common factors of counseling and supervision to the specific factors of the discrimination model.
The Discrimination Model
The discrimination model (Bernard, 1979, 1997) provides a conceptualization of clinical supervision as both an educational and a relationship process (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014; Borders & Brown, 2005). In essence, the discrimination model involves the dual functions of assessing the supervisee’s skills and choosing a supervisor role for addressing the supervisee’s needs and goals. The supervisee is assessed on three skill areas, or foci: (a) intervention (observable behaviors that the supervisee demonstrates in session, such as demonstration of skills and interventions); (b) conceptualization (cognitive processes, such as the supervisee’s ability to recognize the client’s themes and patterns, as well as the supervisee’s level of understanding of what is taking place in session); and (c) personalization (supervisee self-awareness and ability to adapt his or her own personal style of counseling while maintaining aware-ness of personal issues and countertransference). Furthermore, over 30 years ago, Lanning (1986) proposed the addition of assessing the supervisee’s professional behaviors, such as how the supervisee approaches legal and ethical issues.
When the supervisor has assessed the supervisee’s skill level in each of the three foci, the supervisor utilizing the discrimination model assumes the appropriate role for addressing the supervisee’s needs and goals: (a) teacher (assumed when the supervisor perceives that the supervisee requires instruction or direct feedback); (b) counselor (appropriate for when the supervisor aims to increase supervisee reflectivity, or to process the supervisee’s internal reality and experiences related to his or her professional development or work as a counselor); or (c) consultant (a more collaborative role that is assumed when the supervisor deems it appropriate for the supervisee to think and act more independently, or when the supervisor aims to encourage the supervisee to trust his or her own insights). It is important to note that the supervisor does not take on the singular form of any of the three roles, but rather makes use of the knowledge and skills that are characteristic of each role (Borders & Brown, 2005). The discrimination model is situation-specific; therefore, supervisor roles and foci of assessment might change within a supervision session and across sessions. Consequently, supervisors are advised to remain attuned to the supervisee’s needs in order to attend to his or her most pressing focus area and to assume the most suitable role for addressing these needs rather than displaying strict adherence to a preferred focus or role (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014).
The discrimination model is considered to be an accessible, empirically validated model for supervisors and can be adapted in complexity depending on the supervisor’s level of readiness (Bernard & Goodyear, 2014; Borders & Brown, 2005). Using multidimentional scaling in an empirical study of the discrimination model, Ellis and Dell (1986) provided validation for both the teacher and counselor roles, although the consultant role did not emerge as a distinct role. Their findings are consistent with other studies that provided support for the teacher and counselor roles, but not for the consultant role (Glidden & Tracey, 1992; Goodyear, Abadie, & Efros, 1984; Stenack & Dye, 1982). Thus, the consultant role might be more difficult to distinguish from the teaching and counseling roles, perhaps, as Bernard and Goodyear (2014) noted, because the consultant role requires supervisors to put aside their position of expert or therapist and act more collaboratively with their supervisees. Ellis and Dell provided an alternate (and conflicting) explanation, suggesting that consultation might be an underlying component of both the teaching and counseling roles. These findings indicate a need for future research and possible modification of the discrimination model; however, the discrimination model is generally supported by empirical research.
Rationale for an Integrated Model
Watkins and colleagues (2015) stated: “Akin to the ‘great psychotherapy debate’ about effectiveness (Wampold, 2001), a ‘great psychotherapy supervision debate’ about effectiveness is eminently likely” (p. 17). Several cross-cutting models of clinical supervision have been proposed (Milne et al., 2008; Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007), as well as models that extrapolate common factors of counseling to supervision practices (Lampropoulos, 2002; Watkins et al., 2015); however, there has yet to be a model that systematically converges both. Given the abundance of empirical support for common factors in counseling, we have conceptualized a new model, the CFDM, to integrate a supervision approach that is grounded in effective counseling and supervision practices. Furthermore, Watkins and colleagues encouraged supervisors to apply common factors of counseling to the specific factors of some form of supervision; however, to our knowledge, no such model integrating common factors with the specific factors of an empirically supported model of supervision has been published. Thus, the CFDM combines essential factors of supervision models, converges them with common factors of counseling approaches, and applies them to the specific factors of Bernard’s (1979, 1997) discrimination model for a structured approach that bridges effective elements of both counseling and supervision.
Bernard and Goodyear (2014) pointed to the supervisory relationship as one of the most essential factors in supervision; however, a major criticism of the discrimination model is that the model itself does not thoroughly address the supervisory relationship (Beinart, 2004). Similarly, Freeman and McHenry (1996) found that supervisors ranked the development of clinical skills as their top goal for supervising counselors-in-training and identified that supervision involves taking on the roles of teacher, challenger and supporter, but relationship building did not surface as an emphasis of counselor supervision (Bell, Hagedorn, & Robinson, 2016). Thus, the CFDM builds on the discrimination model by incorporating tenets of the supervisory relationship that are consistent with common factors of counseling and supervision, such as the working alliance (Bordin, 1983), the real relationship (Watkins, 2015), and the instillation of hope (Lambert & Barley, 2001; Lampropoulos, 2002). Historically, the supervision literature suggests that novice supervisors, in particular, might manage feelings of self-doubt and uncertainty by employing a highly structured supervision style, focusing on providing supervisees with feedback on counseling techniques or client diagnosis and placing less emphasis on attending to the supervisory relationship (Hess, 1986; Hess & Hess, 1983). Furthermore, whereas building rapport is a top priority in many therapeutic relationships, counselor supervisors might prioritize other factors instead, such as scheduling, paperwork, and evaluation, before establishing a relationship with the supervisee (Bell et al., 2016). Because the discrimination model is a widely used approach to supervision (Timm, 2015), experienced counselors who wish to incorporate common factors of supervision and counseling into their customary supervision practice will likely find the CFDM to be an intuitive supervision approach. The following section provides a description of the four primary tenets of the CFDM, as well as strategies and recommendations for applying the CFDM in supervision.
The Common Factors Discrimination Model
The CFDM is an innovative model of supervision that aims to integrate the common factors of counseling and supervision with the specific factors of Bernard’s (1979, 1997) discrimination model for a structured, relationship-centered approach to clinical supervision. The CFDM builds on existing supervision models that extrapolate common factors of counseling to supervision practices (Lampropoulos, 2002; Watkins et al., 2015). The CFDM also draws on the discrimination model (Bernard, 1979, 1997) as a method of assessing supervisee needs and tailoring feedback and support accordingly. Although the melding of common factors with the discrimination model has yet to be empirically tested as an integrated approach to supervision, both approaches have received substantial empirical support as standalone models. Empirical research supports common factors approaches to counseling and other change-inducing relationships; however, the CFDM’s underpinnings in the more prescriptive discrimination model provide a structured approach to common factors supervision. In addition, there is evidence to suggest the effectiveness of common factors approaches across cultures (Dewell & Owen, 2015).
We have proposed a model that combines effective common factors of counseling and supervision with the specific factors of Bernard’s (1979, 1997) widely used, empirically supported and accessible discrimination model for a structured approach to common factors supervision. The primary tenets of the CFDM were derived by reviewing the literature on common factors models of supervision and purposively selecting the most common elements, including: (a) development and maintenance of a strong supervisory relationship, (b) supervisee acquisition of new knowledge and skills, (c) supervisee self-awareness and self-reflection, and (d) assessment of supervisees’ needs and the provision of feedback based on the tenets of Bernard’s (1979, 1997) discrimination model. The following section provides a brief fictional case illustration followed by specific strategies for applying the CFDM to supervision. Specific examples for matching common factors with tenets of the discrimination model are provided in Table 1, based on an illustrative case example, followed by a discussion of the primary tenets of the case to the CFDM.
Case Illustration
André, a master’s student in mental health counseling, is completing his first semester of clinical practicum at his university’s community counseling center. Although André demonstrates competency across many clinical and professional domains, as a novice counselor trainee he struggles with reflecting feeling with clients in session. His supervisor has noticed that André tends to sidestep emotional topics in session and, instead of reflecting feeling, responds to emotional content by asking the client unrelated questions or by changing the subject. In the few instances in which he has attempted to reflect feeling, André has been inaccurate in his reflections, undershooting the intensity of the client’s feelings or misreading the client’s emotions altogether. This has sometimes led to tension and frustration between André and his clients. Using the CFDM, his supervisor might utilize the following strategies in supervision with André. In the following section, the case of André is discussed, integrating the primary tenets of the CFDM.
Application of the CFDM
The Supervisory Relationship
Bernard and Goodyear (2014) suggested that the supervisory relationship is a critical factor in effective supervision, regardless of the model of supervision that is followed. Thus, the central tenet of the CFDM is the development of a collaborative supervisory relationship that is characterized by the Rogerian conditions of empathy, genuineness, and unconditional positive regard (Lampropoulos, 2002). Utilizing the CFDM with André, the supervisor approaches her supervisory roles of teacher, counselor and consultant with warmth and acceptance as she addresses André’s difficulty reflecting feeling with his client, rather than using a confrontational or critical approach. Furthermore, she explores with André his personal experiences with emotion, taking into consideration his background and cultural factors that could play a role in his relationship with emotion.
The real relationship. The real relationship (Lampropoulos, 2002; Watkins, 2015) refers to a supervisory relationship that is unaltered by transference or countertransference and is characterized by empathy, warmth, genuineness, unconditional positive regard and trust. The expression of humor and optimism also is recommended in developing a common factors-influenced supervisory relationship. Extrapolating from Gelso’s (2014) tripartite model of the psychotherapy relationship, Watkins (2015) defined the real relationship as “the personal relationship between supervisor and supervisee marked by the extent to which each is genuine with the other and perceives/experiences the other in ways that befit the other” (p. 146). Factors of the real relationship are critical in supervision, as they allow supervisees to develop trust in the supervisory relationship and provide safety for supervisees to disclose vulnerabilities, mistakes and personal concerns (Storm et al., 2001).
Because the evaluative and hierarchical nature of supervision might make the supervisory relationship vulnerable to supervisory ruptures (Burke, Goodyear, & Guzzardo, 1998; Nelson & Friedlander, 2001; Safran, Muran, Stevens, & Rothman, 2007), the CFDM utilizes a collaborative evaluation process (Rønnestad & Skovholt, 1993), in which supervisees have the opportunity to practice evaluating their skills independently throughout their training either by journaling or by completing an evaluation form about their session and submitting their self-evaluation to their supervisor. Supervisee self-evaluations are then processed in supervision. The CFDM supervisor in the case illustration might use this strategy with André to allow him to raise self-awareness and to receive regular feedback on his skills. Furthermore, assuming the teacher role of the discrimination model, his supervisor might direct André to conduct a self-assessment of his reflections of feeling following each session, which he could bring into supervision to discuss and receive her feedback.
Because the supervisory relationship is the central tenet of the CFDM, it is advisable to evaluate and monitor the relationship throughout supervision. Furthermore, Lampropoulos (2002) recommended that supervisors identify and attempt to repair ruptures as soon as possible, as ruptures can be deleterious to supervision process and outcome. One such measure for evaluation of the supervisory relationship is the Supervisory Relationship Questionnaire (SRQ; Palomo, Beinart, & Cooper, 2010), a 67-item assessment of the supervisee’s perceptions of the supervisory relationship. Other plausible measures include the Working Alliance Inventory (Bahrick, 1990) and the Revised Relationship Inventory (Schacht, Howe, & Berman, 1988). Allowing André to assess the supervisory relationship and give his supervisor feedback can provide insight into André’s perception of their relationship and can allow the supervisor to consider making changes in her approach, if necessary. This also conveys to André that his feedback is valuable and that their supervisory relationship is collaborative.
The working alliance. The working alliance in supervision refers to the collaborative development of goals and tasks for supervision (Bordin, 1983; Constantino, Castonguay, & Schut, 2002; Lampropoulos, 2002). The working alliance is established in the CFDM by collaboratively developing a supervision contract between the supervisor and the supervisee (Lampropoulos, 2002) at the very beginning of the supervisory relationship. Goals for supervision that are addressed in the contract include evaluating supervisees’ strengths and areas for growth and identifying specific skills to be learned, as well as issues related to supervisee theoretical orientation. The tasks used to reach these goals can include process notes, live supervision, and interpersonal process recall (IPR; Kagan & Kagan, 1997) as a collaborative approach to processing André’s strengths and areas for growth, and for facilitating André’s self-reflection and self-awareness. The purpose of these tasks is to provide structure and opportunities for instruction, feedback, and evaluation, while allowing the supervisee to engage in self-evaluation, application of new skills, corrective action, and exploration of alternative approaches. The CFDM draws from the discrimination model when developing the contract as a means of evaluating supervisee’s three levels of foci (i.e., intervention, conceptualization and personalization). For example, when developing the supervision contract with André, the supervisor would consider André’s current level of competency with regard to techniques and clinical skills, case conceptualization skills, and self-awareness and personal style.
Instillation of hope and the creation of expectations. Frank and Frank (1991) noted the impact of positive expectations and hope in effecting change in counseling. Placebo, hope and expectancy factors emerged as a single common factor among most counseling approaches, with Lambert and Barley (2001) noting that instillation of hope accounts for 15% of client outcome. Watkins (1996) addressed the issue of demoralization in supervision, stating that beginning counselors can experience poor self-efficacy and might feel overwhelmed as they navigate their professional identity development. Watkins (1996) stated that supervisors are able to utilize the supervisory relationship as a means of encouraging supervisees and providing structure within the relationship to foster hope. Recently, Watkins and colleagues (2015) endorsed the creation of expectations and the provision of some method of supervision as a pathway by which supervisee change occurs. CFDM supervisors can incorporate hope and expectancy into supervision by using the consultant role of the discrimination model to explain to supervisees the process of supervision, and by collaborating with supervisees to provide supervision that builds on those expectations. Practical tools that André’s supervisor might implement to promote hope and positive expectations include developing a supervision contract with André or providing him with a professional disclosure statement in order to explain the process of supervision and to set supervisory rituals in motion (Watkins et al., 2015). Lampropoulos (2002) also suggested setting short- and long-term goals with supervisees as a means of instilling hope.
Supervisee Self-Awareness and Self-Reflection
An additional tenet of the CFDM is supervisee self-reflection concerning issues that influence professional development (Lampropoulos, 2002). CFDM supervision emphasizes the importance of encouraging supervisees to explore their strengths and areas for growth, and personal issues that might affect their work in counseling, as well as their therapeutic styles (Lampropoulos, 2002; Milne et al., 2008). The CFDM attempts to facilitate supervisee self-reflection by implementing strategies such as collaborative evaluation and the supervision contract (discussed above). Furthermore, the CFDM utilizes IPR (Kagan & Kagan, 1997), in which the supervisor and supervisee watch videotape of a supervisee’s counseling session together, pausing the tape at moments that either the supervisor or supervisee deems critical for further inquiry and processing. Taking on the role of counselor, the supervisor utilized IPR to explore what André was experiencing during that moment of the counseling session that might have prevented him from demonstrating reflection. Consistent with the common factors model, the supervisor confronted André with warmth, empathy and acceptance.
Acquisition of Knowledge and Skills
According to the discrimination model (Bernard, 1979, 1997), one of the primary roles of the supervisor is that of teacher. Thus, in addition to providing support and feedback, supervisors are in a position to impart knowledge and to facilitate supervisees’ acquisition of skills—a factor of supervision that surfaces in the majority of supervision models (Milne et al., 2008; Morgan & Sprenkle, 2007). Lampropoulos (2002) stated that supervisees might learn through direct instruction, through shaping (i.e., gradual learning of a desired behavior) and through their own personal experience. In addition, supervisees have opportunities to learn by imitating the behaviors of their supervisors and other counselors (Lampropoulos, 2002). Given that skills and techniques factors account for 15% of counseling outcome (Lambert & Barley, 2001), supervisors are in a position to model skills and techniques of counseling in supervision as a means of fostering supervisee learning and skill acquisition. Integrating common factors with the discrimination model, André’s supervisor might take on the role of teacher to watch a video clip with André of a recent counseling session in which André struggled to reflect feeling, directing him to role-play with his supervisor other ways that he could respond to his client when emotional content is disclosed. André’s supervisor also could provide him with a list of “feeling words” or other relevant resources in order to help him to increase his awareness of emotion and to broaden his feelings vocabulary.
Assessment of Supervisee Needs and the Provision of Feedback
A final tenet of the CFDM is assessment of supervisee needs and the provision of feedback utilizing the roles and foci presented in the discrimination model. Using the CFDM, the supervisor would implement tailoring (also referred to in the counseling literature as prescriptive matching)—or adapting supervision to fit the characteristics, worldviews and preferences of the supervisee—as would be done with clients in common factors approaches to counseling (Norcross & Halgin, 1997). In their review of the literature on clinical supervision, Goodyear and Bernard (1998) identified attending to supervisees’ individual differences as an essential component of effective supervision. Furthermore, tailoring is inherent in the discrimination model, which recommends matching the supervisor’s role to supervisee needs (Bernard, 1979, 1997). As a beginning clinician, André might express a greater need for structured, directive supervision compared to more experienced supervisees (Stoltenberg, McNeill, & Crethar, 1994). Because André self-disclosed his perception of emotion and how this relates to his identity as a male, his supervisor should include this in her conceptualization of André and how he approaches work with clients. Furthermore, this is a value that she might continue exploring with André in future supervision sessions if it could have an impact on his clinical work with clients. Multiple supervision models have recommended matching supervision to the supervisee’s therapeutic approach and cognitive and learning styles (e.g., level of cognitive complexity; Loganbill, Hardy, & Delworth, 1982; Stoltenberg, 1981), and Norcross and Halgin (1997) suggested beginning the supervisory relationship with a needs assessment to determine the supervisee’s unique needs, goals and preferences for supervision. Although tailoring can pose unique challenges for supervisors providing triadic or group supervision, individual differences such as supervisees’ level of experience, learning goals, gender and ethnicity can be taken into account in these formats.
Table 1
CFDM: Examples of DM Focus and Role Intersections and Common Factors Strategies (CFS)
| Supervisor Roles (DM) |
| Supervision Focus Area (DM) and CFS |
Teacher
|
Counselor
|
Consultant
|
| Intervention |
André reports that he is uncertain of how to perform a lethality assessment. |
André struggles to reflect feeling and meaning with clients. |
André is interested in using children’s books in session with elementary-aged children. |
| Common Factors Strategy: |
Supervisor teaches André the necessary steps of assessing for lethality, then the dyad engage in a role play in which the supervisee tests his new knowledge by performing a lethality assessment with the supervisee acting as the client.(Acquisition of New Knowledge and Skills) |
Supervisor asks André to reflect on the fact that he demonstrates empathy toward his clients while in supervision but struggles to show empathy by reflecting feeling and meaning in session.(Self-Exploration, Awareness, and Insight) |
Supervisor provides André with resources for using bibliotherapy in child counseling and offers to help the supervisee brainstorm methods for utilizing this intervention in counseling.(Acquisition of Knowledge and Skills) |
| Conceptualization |
André struggles to provide client with accurate diagnosis. |
André perceives himself as being an ineffective counselor because he has difficulty choosing interventions in session. |
André requests more information on client stages of change. |
| Common Factors Strategy: |
Supervisor and André practice diagnosing fictional clients using case studies from a DSM-5casebook. Supervisor then assigns André homework to practice completing a few case studies independently. Supervisor and André review and discuss André’s answers collaboratively during following supervision session.(Acquisition of Knowledge and Skills) |
Supervisor reflects supervisee’s feelings of inadequacy, offers encouragement, and normalizes the developmental challenges of supervisees. (Supervisory Relationship – Instillation of Hope and Raising of Expectations) |
Supervisor assists supervisee with locating information on client stages of change and discusses with supervisee the idea of conceptualizing client’s progress in counseling within the context of the client’s stage of change. (Acquisition of Knowledge of Skills) |
| Personalization |
André exhibits behaviors that resemble racial microaggressions. |
André’s performance anxiety causes him to appear distracted in session. |
André shares that a client reminds him of his deceased mother. |
| Common Factors Strategy: |
Supervisor reviews videotape of session with André and identifies an instance in which he exhibits a microaggression toward client. Supervisor gives André feedback on microaggressions and encourages André to engage in self-reflection on personal biases. (Provision of Feedback) |
Supervisor reflects André’s feelings of anxiety and asks André to reflect on how his anxiety may be affecting his work with clients. (Supervisory Relationship – The Real Relationship) |
Supervisor offers to help André process countertransference and communicates to André that he has handled the situation ethically and professionally by sharing with his supervisor his feelings of countertransference toward his client. (Supervisory Relationship and Provision of Feedback) |
Practical Challenges and Limitations
Utilization of the CFDM might pose challenges that warrant discussion. For example, the CFDM might intensify the parallel process due to its similarities to the structures and processes of counseling. Moreover, CFDM’s parallels to counseling might blur the lines between supervision and counseling, making it important for supervisors to clearly delineate the role and functions of supervision. Thus, the CFDM endorses utilizing the Rogerian condition of genuineness to facilitate an open, collaborative discussion between the supervisor and supervisee when potentially problematic issues of parallel processing arise in supervision. Furthermore, the CFDM might be vulnerable to challenges in dual relationships, as the various discrimination model roles that the supervisor might assume could blur the lines between the supervisory relationship versus other relationships that the supervisor might have with the supervisee, such as that of instructor. Therefore, supervisors utilizing the CFDM are encouraged to have an open discussion with supervisees from the beginning of supervision concerning the purposes, limitations and boundaries of the supervisory relationship. Such conversations can be facilitated with the use of a professional disclosure statement that outlines the supervisor’s roles (Blackwell, Strohmer, Belcas, & Burton, 2002; Cobia & Boes, 2000).
Because the central tenet of the CFDM is the identified supervisory relationship, a potential challenge that is perhaps inherent in the CFDM is addressing weaknesses and ruptures in the supervisory relationship. The CFDM might also be challenging for supervisors or supervisees who inherently struggle to establish strong supervisory and therapeutic relationships. Supervisees who demonstrate limited ability to establish a strong therapeutic relationship might benefit from direct instruction on behavioral skills that facilitate the therapeutic relationship, such as reflections of feeling and meaning. Lampropoulos (2002) recommended that gatekeeping measures be implemented for students who consistently demonstrate deficiency in establishing a strong therapeutic relationship with clients. Finally, outcome research is indicated to examine the validity of applying common factors principles of psychotherapy to clinical supervision, as well as the empirical merit of an integrated common factors and discrimination model of supervision.
Conclusion
The supervision literature abounds with approaches for supervising counselors; however, there is little evidence that any one approach outperforms another. Common factors approaches to counseling and supervision draw on the components that are shared among models for a parsimonious approach that places emphasis on the factors that are essential in producing positive counseling and supervision outcomes. However, although such factors are necessary, they are not sufficient for yielding positive change. Therefore, Watkins and colleagues (2015) noted the necessity of applying the specific factors of some form of supervision to a common factors approach. We have responded to this call by presenting the CDFM, which integrates the specific factors of Bernard’s (1979, 1997) discrimination model with the most common elements of counseling and supervision approaches: (a) the supervisory relationship, (b) supervisee acquisition of new knowledge and skills, (c) supervisee self-awareness and self-reflection, and (d) assessment of supervisees’ needs and the delivery of feedback according to the tenets of the discrimination model.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
The authors reported no conflict of interest or funding contributions for the development of this manuscript.
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A. Elizabeth Crunk is a doctoral candidate at the University of Central Florida. Sejal M. Barden is an Assistant Professor at the University of Central Florida. Correspondence can be addressed to Elizabeth Crunk, University of Central Florida, College of Education and Human Performance, Department of Child, Family, and Community Sciences, 4000 Central Florida Blvd., P.O. Box 161250, Orlando, FL 32816-1250, elizabethcrunk@gmail.com.
Feb 4, 2017 | Volume 7 - Issue 1
Clare Merlin, Timothy Pagano, Amanda George, Cassandra Zanone, Benjamin Newman
The Council for Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs (CACREP) recently released its 2016 standards. Included in these standards is a requirement for school counseling master’s programs to have a minimum of 60 credit hours by the year 2020. This credit hour requirement is an increase from the previous 48-hour requirement and has caused considerable debate in the counselor education field. In this article, the authors assert that the credit hour increase will lead to positive or neutral effects for school counseling programs and benefit the field of school counseling as a whole. This claim is supported by historical examples, anticipated benefits to school counseling, and findings from a pilot study with school counseling programs that previously transitioned to 60 credit hours (N = 22).
Keywords: CACREP, accreditation, school counseling, counselor education, credit hours
The unification of the counseling profession is an aspiration long held within the field (American Counseling Association, 2009; Bobby, 2013; Simmons, 2003). However, historic differences in Council for Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs (CACREP) standards for completion of a counseling degree complicate a singular identity for the profession. Without a unified expectation of degree requirements, professionals who identify as “counselors” struggle to find a consentient definition for the counseling role. In order to reach unification in the field, it is necessary for counseling organizations and professionals to agree on the minimum credit requirements needed to obtain a counseling degree (Bobby, 2013; Williams, Milsom, Nassar-McMillan, & Pope, 2012).
Minimum credit requirements for a school counseling degree gained recent attention as CACREP released updated standards in 2016, including a new standard (1.J.) requiring 60 semester credit hours for all counseling specializations, including school counseling, rather than the previous 48-credit hour requirement (CACREP, 2015). CACREP designed this standard to create unity among program specialties so that all specialties—addictions counseling, career counseling, clinical mental health counseling, clinical rehabilitation counseling, college counseling and student affairs, marriage, couple, and family counseling, and school counseling—require the same number of credit hours (CACREP, 2015; Williams et al., 2012).
The publication of standard 1.J. has implications for numerous counselor education programs. In 2014, the authors researched the 229 CACREP-accredited school counseling programs in existence at the time and found that 170 programs, or 74%, required less than 60 credit hours for program completion. Similarly, in a study examining school counselor education programs (N = 126), Perusse, Poynton, Parzych, and Goodnough (2015) found that programs ranged in credit hour requirements from 30 to 67 semester credit hours, with an average of 49.6 credit hours. Sixty-one percent of program coordinators surveyed indicated that they required between 48 and 59 credit hours, whereas only 18% required 60 to 67 credit hours, and 14% required 36 to 45 credit hours. Although only 57% of the sample surveyed was CACREP-accredited, the percentage of participants requiring less than 60 credit hours in their programs in 2015 (75%) indicates that for these programs to become CACREP-accredited or reaccredited, many program coordinators will need to increase credit hours to 60 to meet standard 1.J.
Despite CACREP’s intentions for unification via standard 1.J., the standard’s implications for school counseling programs across the country have led to debate among counselor educators. In this article, the authors acknowledge concerns over the standard’s implications but suggest that an increase in required credit hours for CACREP-accredited school counseling programs will ultimately benefit school counseling programs and the school counseling field as a whole. The authors support this claim with a review of the history of CACREP and credit hour increases, prior research on the topic, results of a pilot study with programs that previously transitioned to 60 credit hours, and anticipated benefits for the school counseling field.
History
CACREP began in 1981 as a partnership between the Association for Counselor Education and
Supervision (ACES) and the American Personnel and Guidance Association, now known as the American Counseling Association (ACA; Bobby, 2013; Urofsky, Bobby, & Ritchie, 2013). This formation resulted when leaders from ACES, the American School Counselor Association (ASCA), the American College Personnel Association, and American Personnel and Guidance Association created comprehensive accreditation standards for counseling programs (Urofsky et al., 2013). Prior to the formation of CACREP in 1981, the only accreditation for counseling programs was provided by ACES on a voluntary basis (CACREP, 2017).
CACREP was formed to address three purposes: (a) to create guidelines reflecting expectations of the counseling profession, (b) to promote professionalism in counseling, and (c) to increase credibility in the profession (Adams, 2006; Bobby, 1992). More than 30 years later, the central mission of CACREP remains promoting the profession of counseling and related fields via “the development of preparation standards; the encouragement of excellence in program development; and the accreditation of professional preparation programs” (CACREP, 2017, para. 54). Through this process, CACREP provides accreditation to individual programs at the master’s and doctoral levels (CACREP, 2014).
Each area of CACREP accreditation maintains different programmatic standards in addition to a core set of general standards required of all counseling programs. CACREP designed the school counseling standards to prepare graduates to work with K–12 students to effectively address their personal/social, academic and career concerns (CACREP, 2015). CACREP standards appear increasingly valuable as leaders in the counseling profession seek a unified professional identity, particularly in light of the widely varying state licensing standards for counselors (Mascari & Webber, 2013). The CACREP standards serve as universal guidelines of best practices in educating future counselors. Moreover, researched benefits of attending a CACREP-accredited counseling program instead of a non-accredited program may include “increased internship and job opportunities, improved student quality, helpfulness in private practice, increased faculty professional involvement and publishing, and acceptance into a counselor education doctoral program” (Mascari & Webber, 2013, p. 20).
CACREP standards appear particularly relevant in the school counseling profession. In a study of 187 school counselors, on average, participants rated the CACREP school counseling standards as “highly” or “very highly” important to school counseling (Holcomb-McCoy, Bryan, & Rahill, 2002). This finding indicates support for the value of CACREP school counseling standards to the field of school counseling (Branthoover, Desmond, & Bruno, 2010), which is important, given that school counseling programs are the most represented master’s counseling specialty among CACREP-
accredited programs. School counseling programs comprise 36% of all CACREP-accredited programs, nearly 10% more than clinical mental health counseling programs (CACREP, 2016a).
Standards Changes
Despite research on the perceived value and benefits of CACREP standards, multiple facets of CACREP have proven controversial within the counseling profession. These controversies serve as proverbial lightning rods, creating conversation among leaders in the field (Schmidt, 1999). Historically, debate emerged in counselor education due to standards revisions. As in most professions, CACREP regularly modifies its standards to account for changes in the field of counseling (Adams, 2006). To modify the standards, a CACREP standards Revisions Committee formulates revised standards, releases the standards to the public for a comment period, and revises standards according to public feedback. They then release a second draft of revised standards, allow for public comment, and revise the standards accordingly before releasing a final set of revised standards (Williams et al., 2012). Periodic revisions of CACREP standards help counseling leaders address the current and future training needs of professional counselors (Bobby & Urofsky, 2008). These modifications are integral to the development of the counseling profession and parallel other helping professions that regularly revise training standards (Adams, 2006).
2009 Standards changes. One standards change controversy stems from the counseling profession developing a professional identity independent from counseling psychology and other counseling-
related fields. CACREP 2009 standard I.W.2. indicated that core faculty members preferably are trained in Counselor Education and Supervision doctoral programs (CACREP, 2009).
Research conducted shortly after the standard was published in 2009 demonstrated mixed opinions on the standards change—55% of the 180 counselor educators surveyed agreed or strongly agreed with the standard and 45% disagreed or strongly disagreed with it (Cannon & Cooper, 2010). Although counseling leaders may be attempting to move the field toward unification with standards like I.W.2., standards changes will not transpire without debate in the field.
Around the same time, a second debate emerged when proposed 2009 CACREP standards required community counseling programs to become clinical mental health counseling programs with 60 credit hours, rather than the previous 48-hour community counseling requirement, in order to become accredited (CACREP, 2009). This standard eventually became part of the 2009 CACREP standards, but not before raising fractured dialogue among counselor educators (Henriksen, Van Wiesner, & Kinsworthy, 2008). Henriksen et al. (2008) found opinions among 51 counselor educators in the state of Texas were nearly evenly divided about the issue—49% preferred to keep a 48-credit hour minimum, and 51% preferred a switch to a 60-hour minimum.
Similarly, Cannon and Cooper (2010) surveyed 295 CACREP counselor educators and found that attitudes toward the 2009 standards changes were mixed. They found attitudes toward the credit hour increase differed between community counseling counselor educators and clinical mental health counselor educators. Twenty-seven percent of community counselor educators agreed or strongly agreed with the 48-credit hour requirement, whereas only 4% of clinical mental health counselor educators agreed with the same requirement. Across all participants, 31% indicated satisfaction with the 2009 standard revisions, 38% disagreed or strongly disagreed that they were satisfied with the revisions, and 31% reported indecision. Similar disagreement over standards changes emerged six years later around the 2016 CACREP standards.
2016 Standards changes. On May 12, 2015, CACREP released the 2016 Standards, effective July 1, 2016. These standards are the product of a review process in which a Standards Revision Committee comprised of counselor educators from across the country examined if and how the CACREP Standards needed to be changed to meet the shifting needs of the counseling profession. They also focused on “simplifying, clarifying, and consolidating the existing standards” in their revisions (CACREP, 2012, para. 1). CACREP released the first draft of the 2016 Standards in September 2012 and allowed for public comment. They revised the Standards according to feedback, released the revised draft for further public comment, and revised the standards once more (Williams et al., 2012). The Standards Revision Committee then submitted a final Standards draft to the CACREP Board of Directors for adoption. It was adopted and released in May 2015 (CACREP, 2016b).
The 2016 CACREP standards suggest more equitable education among the different counseling specializations with regard to the required number of credits a student must accrue in order to graduate (CACREP, 2015). For example, although the 2009 CACREP standards required that the addictions counseling, clinical mental health counseling, and marriage, couple, and family counseling programs had a minimum of 60 semester credit hours, the school counseling, career counseling, and student affairs and college counseling programs required only a minimum of 48 semester credit hours (CACREP, 2009). The proposed 2016 Standards, however, require that all degree programs have a minimum of 60 credit hours by 2020 (CACREP, 2015). In time, these changes aim to unify all counseling specializations (Williams et al., 2012). Such an increase in credits aligns with CACREP’s mission of developing standards that better the profession and affirm a unified identity (Bobby, 2013).
When CACREP published proposed standard 1.J., requiring school counseling programs to have a minimum of 60 credit hours by 2020 (CACREP, 2015), debate arose. At the 2013 ACES School Counseling Interest Network meeting, counselor educators expressed concern about the proposed standard (Transforming School Counseling and College Access Interest Network [TSCCAIN], 2013). Some attendees asserted that mandating an increase to 60 credit hours would disenfranchise low-income students. Attendees argued that an increase in program costs and subsequently, tuition costs, could make counseling less practically desirable to otherwise qualified prospective students. Additionally, some counselor educators stated that increasing the number of credits for school counseling programs would place an undue burden on the training programs themselves by forcing these programs to hire more faculty members to teach additional courses. However, some counselor educators expressed support for the proposed credit hour increase, suggesting the standard could lead to higher quality applicants to school counseling programs and ultimately produce better qualified professionals in the field (TSCCAIN, 2013).
Although concerns about the outcomes of transitioning to 60 credit hours are understandable, when compared to the gains that can be made by increasing credit hours, standard 1.J. appears warranted. Three pieces of evidence support this claim: existing research on credit hour increases, data from a pilot study, and anticipated benefits to the school counseling field.
Existing Research
To date, no research has explored the implications of changing school counseling credit hour requirements from 48 to 60; however, it is beneficial to explore other fields of study to understand trends, long-term effects and the manner in which other researchers have studied this topic. Previous studies either focused on non-counseling fields (T. K. Fagan, personal communication, November 1, 2014) or are in school counseling-related fields, but the research is significantly outdated (Barkley & Percy, 1984; Hollis, 1998).
More than 30 years ago, Barkley and Percy (1984) explored enrollment in counselor education programs. As the most recent individuals to publish on this topic, their research still warrants attention. Barkley and Percy’s study examined the declining rate of applications to counselor education programs (N = 90) in the United States at that time. They used correlation research to examine whether or not relationships existed between the number of applications to programs, program accreditation status, and whether programs had increased credit hours between 1975 and 1983. Barkley and Percy found that although accredited programs in their sample (n = 8) had more applicants than non-accredited programs (n = 77), those that increased credit hours (n = 39) encountered fewer applicants than those that did not (n = 37). They hypothesized that applicants to lower credit hour programs were more interested in attending lower credit requirement schools than higher credit requirement schools (Barkley & Percy, 1984; Hollis, 1998). They found that these relationships were weak, however, and concluded: “There is no evidence from this study to support a hypothesis that seeking accreditation and/or moderate increases in credit hour requirements results in declining enrollments” (Barkley & Percy, 1984, pp. 23–24).
In the related field of school psychology, the National Association of School Psychologists (NASP) is a professional association recognized by the National Council for the Accreditation of Teacher Education as a specialized professional association. NASP began reviewing and approving school psychology programs in 1988. In 2011, approximately 70% of school psychology programs in the United States were NASP-approved (Prus & Strein, 2011). When the NASP credit hour requirement for school psychology programs changed from a master’s degree to a 60-credit hour Educational Specialist (Ed.S.) requirement, programs that adjusted to meet this new requirement received a comparable amount of applications (T. K. Fagan, personal communication, November 1, 2014). This outcome in school psychology suggests that school counseling programs increasing to 60 credit hours also may receive similar numbers of applicants after increasing to 60 credits as they did before increasing credit hours.
Although little research addresses differences between counseling programs before and after credit hour changes, research on CACREP-accredited programs and non-accredited programs may indicate potential differences, given that, on average, accredited programs require more credit hours than non-accredited programs (Hollis, 1998; Mascari & Webber, 2013). In 1998, Hollis compared admissions data from 104 mental health counseling programs and found that on average, CACREP-accredited programs required students to have higher grade point averages for admission (3.02) than non-accredited programs (2.91). Minimum GRE scores for admissions were nearly the same, but graduation rates differed. Despite similar average enrollments across programs, CACREP-accredited programs graduate more students on average than non-accredited programs (Hollis, 1998). This research may indicate potential differences in graduation rates and admission standards between programs with higher and lower credit hour requirements.
These three examples suggest that credit hour increases do not lead to poorer outcomes for programs and may in fact enhance the overall educative experience. Though findings did not include conclusive evidence of benefits from increasing credit hours, the studies showed that after programs increased credit hours, they encountered similar admissions outcomes (Barkley & Percy, 1984; T. K. Fagan, personal communication, November 1, 2014) or improved graduation rates (Hollis, 1998) compared to those measures before increasing credit hours. Consequently, there is no research base to conclude that increasing counseling program credit hours is harmful to counseling programs in admissions or graduation rates.
Pilot Study
Although existing research is consistent, it is outdated. To understand the potential outcomes school counseling programs encounter when they increase credit hours, the authors conducted a pilot study to explore the admissions and job placement data of CACREP-accredited school counseling master’s programs that previously transitioned to 60 credit hours. In 2014, 59 (26%) of the 229 school counseling CACREP-accredited programs required 60 credits or more for program graduates. This number constitutes more than one quarter of all CACREP-accredited school counseling programs, despite CACREP requiring only 48 credit hours at the time. Furthermore, it supports Hollis’ (1998) assertion that counseling programs often increase their required credit hours before higher standards are established. These increases may symbolize support for and valuing of increased credit hours for the benefit of program graduates. The authors collected admissions and job placement data from CACREP program liaisons (henceforth, “participants”) whose school counseling programs previously transitioned to 60 credit hours. They also explored the participants’ perceptions regarding whether transitioning to 60 credit hours impacted program admissions and graduate job placement rates. Though the study was a pilot with limited sample size (N = 22), the exploratory data may prove insightful for school counseling faculty members looking to transition programs to 60 credit hours. These data also may be helpful for researchers to understand the potential impact of credit hour transitions on programs.
Participants provided data via a 26-item electronic questionnaire. Twenty-four questions addressed quantity of applications, quality of applications (measured by enrolled students’ undergraduate grade point average [GPA], GRE scores, racial demographics, gender demographics, international demographics, and out-of-state demographics [Cassuto, 2016]), and graduate job placement rates. Two open-ended questions explored participants’ perspectives on the topic. The questions read: “From your perspective, what, if any, impact did the transition to a 60-credit graduation requirement for master’s school counseling programs at your institution have on the quantity, quality and diversity of applicants?” and, “What (if any) feedback on the survey would you like to provide to the researchers?”
Positive and Neutral Outcomes
CACREP standard 1.J. established equal credit hour requirements in order to create unity among counseling specialties, thus leading to positive effects for the profession (Williams et al., 2012). In their pilot study, the authors found that all participants contributing program data (n = 7) experienced positive or neutral effects in some items measuring admissions quality, admissions quantity or graduate job placement rates after transitioning to 60 credit hours. Although data indicated mixed experiences for two items, enrolled students’ undergraduate GPAs and GRE scores, in the majority of items participants encountered only positive and neutral effects. These items were: racial diversity of enrolled students, number of enrolled international students, number of enrolled out-of-state students, and job placement rates of program graduates.
Participants who provided comments to open-ended questions (n = 22) contributed further insights on these positive outcomes after transitioning to 60 credit hours. Nine participants explicitly stated that transitioning to a 60-credit hour minimum had a positive impact on their school counseling master’s programs. For example, one participant stated that the 60-credit hour program format “brought better applicants,” and another participant said, “I believe our student applicant pool increased in size as well as improved in quality of applicant.” A third participant indicated the following as a result of changing to 60 credit hours:
The quality of our program increased as did our enrollment. We anticipated an initial drop in enrollment that never materialized. Students told us that they preferred the comprehensive training they would get with a 60-hour program and selected us over other 48-hour programs. Our program grew as a result of moving to 60 hours.
This feedback suggests that for this participant’s program, transitioning to 60 credit hours clearly led to positive results.
Six participants responded to open-ended questions indicating neutral outcomes from transitioning to 60 credit hours. They stated that they did not believe their programs’ transition to a 60-credit hour minimum had an impact on admissions or job placement rates. For example, one participant noted, “The transition from 48 to 60 hours seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the quantity and quality and/or diversity of applicants.” Another participant described the change as having “little to no negative impact” on their program, and another described it as having “minimal impact.” The latter participant wrote, “I see no significant change in applicant qualifications.”
It is notable that three of the items that did not change for any participants—quantity of enrolled international students, quantity of enrolled out-of-state students, and enrolled students’ racial diversity—are items measuring program diversity. This finding suggests that for the participants in this pilot study, the credit hour transition did not impact applicant diversity to their school counseling programs. This may counter the notion that requiring 60 credit hours for program completion will disenfranchise certain students due to increased tuition (TSCCAIN, 2013). In addition, previous research indicates variables such as financial aid packages, faculty contact with prospective students, diverse student populations, and faculty diversity influence the recruitment of diverse students (Guiffrida & Douthit, 2010; Shin, Smith, Goodrich, & LaRosa, 2011; Talleyrand, Chung, & Bemak, 2006). These variables may be more impactful on recruiting diverse students than program credit hours.
Negative Outcomes
Despite the professed intent of CACREP standard 1.J. (Williams et al., 2012), some counselor educators speculated that such credit hour increases would have negative effects on school counseling programs (TSCCAIN, 2013). Of all participants in the pilot study whose programs transitioned to a 60-credit hour requirement, none expressed perceptions that increasing their credit hours led to negative outcomes. This finding suggests opposition to arguments that increasing to 60 credit hours will result in harmful effects in programs. The fact that 22 study participants commented on their transitions to 60 credit hours and none expressed the belief that transitioning caused negative outcomes appears noteworthy.
Descriptive statistics of program data showed that only one item, enrolled students’ gender diversity, decreased or stayed the same when participants’ programs transitioned to 60 credit hours. Although this finding may indicate worsening gender disparity in counseling, recent statistics demonstrate a consistent discrepancy in the number of male and female individuals in the counseling profession (Evans, 2013). According to data from ACA, males consistently comprised only 26–29% of the ACA membership between 2002 and 2012 (Evans, 2013). Given the consistency of these percentages over time, it is reasonable that the participants in this study saw gender diversity decrease or stay the same despite transitioning to 60 credit hours because the construct is one that is stable over time and may not have been impacted by credit hour increases. Similarly, CACREP’s 2015 Annual Report authors noted that only 18% of students enrolled in CACREP programs are male (CACREP, 2016a), adding additional legitimacy to a concern for gender disproportionality in counseling overall and disaffirming concern for decreased gender diversity due to credit hour increases.
Program Factors Impacting Outcomes
In the debate over increasing school counseling program credit hours, dialogue centered on the impact that a credit hour increase might have on programs. However, pilot study findings indicated that when programs previously transitioned to 60 credit hours, program-specific characteristics likely had a greater impact on transition outcomes than the transition itself. For example, multiple participants indicated that current events during the time of their credit hour transition appeared to impact their program admissions and student job placement rate more than the actual credit hour transition. As one participant explained:
I don’t think the 60 credits had any impact. The year we moved to 60 was right when the economy went bust, so all of our programs experienced a drop in applicants. We tend to be pretty consistent in the quality of our applicants overall as well as in the relative diversity of our applicants.
Other participants noted that their original number of credit hours prior to transitioning to 60 credits likely impacted their program outcomes after transitioning. Several participants worked in school counseling programs that transitioned from 55 or 57 credit hours to 60 credits. They stated that increasing their program requirements by just a few credit hours did not appear to impact their program admissions or graduate job placement rate.
Another participant indicated school counselors in their state are paid a higher salary if they graduate from 60-credit hour programs. Therefore, offering a school counseling program with a 60-credit hour track helped market the program, the participant reported. If school counseling faculty members work in states in which school counselors receive higher salaries for earning 60 credit hours, then a credit hour increase may lead to more positive changes in admissions than negative ones.
Lastly, hosting other counseling specialties (e.g., clinical mental health, addictions) at a university may impact a school counseling program and its transition to 60 credit hours. One participant noted that their school counseling program increased to a 60-credit hour minimum because the other counseling programs at their institution already required 60 credit hours. This participant said, “We decided to move all programs to 60 hours rather than have the difference in concentrations (in part due to perceptions of why one concentration would require more than the other).” If faculty members are increasing credit hours for school counseling programs at institutions in which other counseling programs already required 60 credit hours, the credit increase may be more widely accepted by potential applicants and lead to neutral or positive outcomes in admissions.
According to pilot study participants, each of these program factors impacted the effects their programs encountered after changing to 60 or more credit hours. Counselor educators leading school counseling programs that have not yet transitioned to 60 credit hours may take note of the factors and examine their own programs’ characteristics that may impact transition outcomes. Counselor educators would benefit from reflecting on the context and characteristics of their programs before concluding that increasing to 60 credit hours will be problematic.
Benefits to School Counselors
As the field of school counseling has evolved, so has the preparation of school counselors-in-training. Such preparation has evolved from an emphasis on vocational guidance (Cinotti, 2014), to training on comprehensive programming (ASCA, 2012; DeKruyf, Auger, & Trice-Black, 2013), to training on leadership and advocacy to create systemic change in schools (Ockerman, Patrikakou, & Feiker Hollenbeck, 2015). Researchers, counselor educators and school counselors are frequently calling for even better training. Recent calls include better preparation in instructional techniques to effectively conduct classroom guidance lessons (Ohrt, Blalock, & Limberg, 2016), collaborative coursework with educational leadership students (Beck, 2016; DeSimone & Roberts, 2016), preparation specific to working in urban areas (Hannon, 2016), suicide assessment practice (Douglas & Wachter-Morris, 2015), training in navigating professional identity issues (Gilbride, Goodrich, & Luke, 2016; Scarborough & Luke, 2008) and improved training in Response to Intervention to advance school counseling services (Ockerman et al., 2015).
In creating CACREP standard 1.J., CACREP has created an opportunity for counselor educators to add coursework that meets these calls and better prepares school counselors-in-training for the needs they will encounter in schools. Counselor educators may want to consider adding courses on the preparation topics called for, such as consultation in school counseling (Ockerman et al., 2015), leadership in school counseling (Beck, 2016; DeSimone & Roberts, 2016), and conducting classroom guidance lessons (Ohrt et al., 2016). In better training future school counselors in these areas, counselor educators can enhance the expertise of school counselors graduating from their programs, and ultimately better support K–12 students.
Lastly, CACREP’s standard 1.J. holds the potential to benefit the school counseling field as a whole. School counselors serve as both counselors and educators in schools and often receive mixed messages about this dual role (Cinotti, 2014). CACREP’s previous school counseling credit hour requirements may have contributed to school counselor role confusion, suggesting that school counselors were not as well-trained as clinical mental health counselors or counselors in other specialties requiring 60 credit hours. In establishing the same credit hour requirements for all counseling programs, CACREP has asserted that school counselors are equally as well-prepared as their colleagues in clinical mental health, marriage and family counseling, addictions counseling, and other specialties. Such an affirmation lends support to the professional standing of school counselors in the counseling field.
Future Research
With the recent release of the 2016 CACREP standards and the inclusion of standard 1.J. requiring 60 credit hours for school counseling programs, faculty members who work at programs with less than 60 credit hours may want to look to the 59 programs that have already transitioned to 60 credit hours as models for transition. Although counselor educators have understandable concerns about the impact that a credit hour increase may have on school counseling programs, previous research and the authors’ pilot study findings provide limited support for these concerns. Instead, research indicates that on average, school counseling programs may encounter improved outcomes in programs admissions and graduate job placement rates or similar outcomes to those experienced before increasing credit hours. Future research on programs that transition to 60 credits will prove valuable in confirming these outcomes.
To conduct this research, researchers will need longitudinal program data, including ongoing admissions and job placement data, from universities. In collecting data for their pilot study, the authors learned that many school counseling programs do not maintain continuous data on admissions and job placement. Of the 34 participants who initially responded to the pilot study questionnaire, 27 participants could not provide complete quantitative data on program admissions or job placement rates. Many of these participants noted that they were unable to do so because such data were unavailable. Some participants reported that transitioning to 60 credit hours so long ago inhibited them from finding and submitting data; seven participants indicated that they transitioned to 60 credit hours more than 15 years ago.
Reasons for unavailable data varied, but most had to do with the absence of data-keeping over time. One participant wrote, “I apologize that I don’t have concrete data for you. It’s a long time ago that we changed to 60 hours (8 years). I was not program director then.” Another participant explained, “We transitioned almost 30 years ago . . . and it would be impossible to get the information to you.” A different participant highlighted that aggregate data-keeping presented a challenge. They wrote, “I am sorry I cannot answer the first part of this survey. Because we have a counselor-first identity, all program admission processes are in aggregate—we do not have separate data for community counseling students, clinical mental health counseling students, and school counseling students.”
These data-keeping challenges pose an obstacle for future research on the impact of credit hour changes on counseling programs. They also support Shin and colleagues’ (2011) findings that counselor education programs often do not maintain admissions data. In their survey research study of 114 CACREP liaisons, Shin et al. found that although some participants reported maintaining admissions and student race and ethnicity data for up to 20 years, other programs reported keeping this data for as little as one year. Moreover, 57% of participants reported not retaining information on prospective students that declined admission to their programs. Although these data may or may not be related to the impact that credit hour changes have on counseling programs, these data-keeping percentages suggest that counseling programs could benefit from collecting and maintaining data in more thorough and consistent ways.
When conducting research on credit hour increases, researchers may also want to examine data points other than admissions and job placement. When counselor educators devote added credit hours to new coursework, they can consider how this coursework will benefit counselors-in-training, then measure those benefits. For example, if counselor educators devote extra credit hours to coursework in advanced techniques, they should collect and maintain data on the counseling techniques of counselors-in-training before and after transitioning to 60 credit hours. If counselor educators create extra coursework in consultation in schools, advocacy or leadership, these skills can be assessed in students before and after creating the courses. Evaluations from employers of alumni can also be examined to explore if counselor ratings improve after increasing credit hours.
If researchers are to better understand the impact that credit hour changes have on counseling programs, it is imperative that counselor educators regularly collect and store data on program outcomes. If counselor educators can begin doing so before credit hour changes take effect, they may be able to track trends in program outcomes associated with the credit hour changes over time. Researchers would be wise to begin longitudinal studies with programs in order to collect data on an ongoing basis and determine if the credit hour change has any effect. This research could prove useful in informing future CACREP standards, including potential credit hour changes. As Barkley and Percy (1984) recommended more than three decades ago, “Counselor education programs [ought to] begin keeping data on applications, acceptances, and enrollments. . . . These factors are too important to the life of most counselor education programs not to have accurate data readily available” (p. 25).
Conclusion
In the three and half decades since CACREP was established, credit hour increases for accredited programs have been met with divided reactions from counselor educators (Cannon & Cooper, 2010; Henriksen et al., 2008; TSCCAIN, 2013). The publication of CACREP’s 2016 Standards is no exception. Counselor educators are wise to consider the program implications of any new standard, including standard 1.J. However, to date, no research provides cause to believe that this standard will significantly contribute to negative school counseling program outcomes. To the contrary, previous research indicates program outcomes will improve or stay the same after increasing credit hours, and findings from the authors’ pilot study reflect similarly. Future research can provide further valuable insights on the impact of credit hour increases on counseling programs.
Conflict of Interest and Funding Disclosure
This research study was conducted by the authors and was supported in part by a CACREP Student Research Grant. The article is the sole work of the authors and does not necessarily reflect the beliefs or ideas of CACREP, the CACREP Board of Directors, or CACREP staff.
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Clare Merlin, NCC, is an Assistant Professor at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. Timothy Pagano, NCC, is a doctoral candidate at the University of North Dakota. Amanda George, NCC, is a Professional School Counselor for Loudon County Public Schools in Sterling, VA. Cassandra Zanone, NCC, is a J.D. candidate at the University of California at Los Angeles. Benjamin Newman, NCC, is a doctoral student at the College of William and Mary. Correspondence can be addressed to Clare Merlin, 9201 University City Boulevard, Charlotte, NC, 28223, cmerlin1@uncc.edu.
