I was intrigued to read (The Times, 31 January 2006) that, as from this autumn, Oxford University is going to require students to sign a contract agreeing to ‘pursue such studies as are required of you by any tutor, fellow or lecturer, or other qualified person assigned by the college to teach you’. Apparently, the university is worried that the introduction of tuition fees of £3,000 per annum will ‘usher in an era of litigation’.

Despite my view that fear of litigation is the worst reason for doing anything (the best reason is because it is the right thing to do), I find myself broadly in favour. When I went to university, not only was there nothing resembling a contract, there was no guidance at all on what was expected of me. Nor, while there, was I ever made aware of any adverse consequences if I failed to turn up for lectures or tutorials. I was simply left to my own devices, and the realisation that ‘if it’s to be, it’s up to me’ only dawned on me in my final year. This goes some way to explaining why I spent weeks restoring an old car, learning to fly (I was in the University Air Squadron), being president of my hall of residence and taking long walks on the Yorkshire moors!

I’m not suggesting that getting me to sign a contract would, at a stroke, have turned me into a dedicated, hard-working student, but at least something in writing would have left me in no doubt about what was expected of me. Perhaps even more importantly, I would have been in no doubt about the consequences of failing to live up to expectations.

Clarifying expectations is the key. I’d go so far as to say that people have a right to know what is expected of them in the workplace as much as in academic institutions. Mindful of this, when inducting new members of staff, one of the first things I do is to find out what their expectations are of me and vice versa. I suspect this is relatively unusual because, over the years, no one joining my team has ever told me that this sort of conversation has happened to them before.

The expectations that I focus on are behaviours that, when they happen, delight me. They go beyond the standard requirements to be punctual and honest that are set out in the employment contract. My ten expectations (not in any order of importance) are:

• I expect you to ask whenever you aren’t clear about something. Questions are welcome. 
• I expect you to say if you are unhappy about something. Don’t let things fester. 
• I expect you to go ahead and do something when you see it needs doing. It is easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission. 
• I expect you to experiment with different ways of doing things. Take time to discover what works best. 
• I expect you to learn when (not if!) you make a mistake. Just apologise and say what you will do differently in future. 
• I expect you to suggest ways to improve the way we do things. Your ideas will be actively considered. 
• I expect you to ask for feedback when you aren’t sure what people think of your performance. No feedback equals impoverished learning. 
• I expect you to be open to criticism. Remember it is what you do that might be criticised, not you as a person. 
• I expect you to be cheerful. It is nicer for your colleagues, and behaving cheerfully will help you feel more cheerful. 
• I expect you to use work as an opportunity to grow and develop your talents. Work isn’t always fun, but if you keep learning even the bad times are worthwhile.

Of course, airing expectations like these is no guarantee of success, but at least people then know, from the word go, where you are coming from and that is far better than leaving them to second-guess. It is also always fascinating to find out what they expect of you!

It is essential, however, to broach expectations early on in a relationship, before there has been time for anything, good or bad, to happen. I once made the mistake of having an expectations conversation retrospectively, after the person had been with us for three months and had been found wanting.

Quite understandably, she instantly took umbrage, tore into tiny pieces my carefully typed page of expectations, and walked out. Entirely my fault; the timing was wrong.

Dr peter Honey, FRSA, FCIPD, FIMC is a chartered psychologist and founder of Peter Honey Pulbications.  He can be contacted on +44 (0) 1628 633946, at peterhoney@peterhoney.com or visit www.peterhoney.com.

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