There is something quietly transformative about volunteering within academia. It rarely makes it into performance metrics, and yet, it is often where the most meaningful change begins. Recently, I had the opportunity to volunteer for the University of Westminster’s Graduate School and design and deliver a series of three workshops: How to Construct your Online Profile, How to Write Your First Blog Post, and How to Digitally Preserve your Scholarship. What began as a simple act of contribution evolved into a reflection on how small, intentional practices-micro-practices- can collectively reshape the culture of academia into something more supportive, visible, and humane (Harzing & Sathish, 2026).
At first glance, these workshops might seem like standalone skill-building sessions. But when woven together, they form a developmental arc that supports doctoral researchers and early career academics in navigating the increasingly digital, performative, and public nature of our academic life. The first workshop, How to Construct Your Online Profile, focused on visibility. In an academic environment where recognition is often mediated through institutional affiliation and publication metrics, many emerging scholars struggle to articulate who they are beyond their CV. In this session, I invited my students to think of their online presence not as self-promotion, but as scholarly positioning. We explored how to craft a coherent narrative across platforms such as LinkedIn, institutional pages, and academic networks. The emphasis was on intentionality-what do you want to be known for, and how can your digital presence reflect that? For most students, this was the first time they had considered their identity as something they could actively shape rather than passively inherit.
The second workshop, How to Write Your First Blog Post, shifted focus from visibility to voice. If the first session was about being seen, this one was about being heard. Academic writing is often limited by conventions that emphasize rigor over accessibility. Blogging, however, creates a different space-one where scholars can experiment with tone, engage broader audiences, and reflect more personally on their work. I encouraged my students to move away from the fear of ‘getting it perfect’ and instead embrace writing as a process of thinking. We discussed structure, storytelling, and how to translate complex ideas into engaging narratives without losing intellectual depth. What was particularly powerful was witnessing participants realize that their ideas have value beyond the boundaries of journals and conferences.
The third workshop, How to Digitally Preserve Your Scholarship, brought these elements together by focusing on legacy and impact. In a fast-paced academic environment, work can easily become fragmented or forgotten. In this session, I introduced students to the concept of digital preservation-not just as archiving, but as curating a coherent body of work over time. We explored tools and strategies for organizing research outputs, from blog posts to presentations, ensuring they remain accessible and connected. More importantly, we framed preservation as an act of care-care for one’s intellectual contributions and for the communities that might benefit from them (Sathish & Harzing, 2026).
Individually, each workshop addressed a specific need. But together, they created a pathway from identity (who you are), to expression (what you say), to legacy (how your work endures). This combination proved especially valuable because it reflects the evolving nature of academic practice in the digital age. Scholars are no longer just producers of knowledge; they are also curators, communicators, and community builders. What stood out most, however, was not just the content of the workshops, but the context in which I delivered them. Volunteering to run the sessions was, in itself, a deliberate choice—a Positive Academia micro-practice rooted in an ethics of contribution rather than obligation. In academia, much of our work is structured around formal roles and expectations. Volunteering disrupts this logic. It is an act that is not mandated, not measured, and often not immediately rewarded. Yet, it is precisely this freedom that makes it so powerful.
As a micro-practice, volunteering functions at the level of everyday action. It does not require institutional reform or large-scale initiatives. Instead, it asks a simple question: what can I do, within my capacity, to support others? In this case, it meant sharing knowledge, creating space for dialogue, and supporting the development of emerging scholars. But its impact extends beyond the immediate ‘participants’. First, volunteering contributes to a culture of generosity. When we give our time and expertise without expectation of return, it signals that collaboration and support are valued (Sathish & Harzing, 2025). This can be particularly meaningful for doctoral researchers, who often navigate academia in isolation. The workshops became not just learning spaces, but communities of practice where participants could connect, share experiences, and support one another.
Second, it challenges the dominant metrics-driven logic of academia. By engaging in activities that are not directly tied to performance indicators, we begin to redefine what counts as valuable work. Volunteering highlights relational and developmental contributions-those that are often invisible but essential for a healthy academic ecosystem. Third, it fosters critical reflexivity. Designing and delivering these workshops required me to critically reflect on my own practice-how I present myself online, how I write, and how I preserve my work. In supporting others, I was also re-evaluating my own academic identity. This reciprocal dynamic is a key element of micro-practices – they are not one-directional acts of giving but processes of mutual learning and growth.
Importantly, we should not underestimate the cumulative effect of such micro-practices. While each individual volunteering act may seem small, together they contribute to a broader cultural shift through a Positive Academia Collective Transformation (Sathish & Harzing, 2025). An environment characterized by care, inclusivity, and collective responsibility. It is not something that can be imposed from the top down. Rather, it emerges through individuals who choose to act differently. My workshops also highlighted the importance of equipping scholars with the tools to navigate contemporary academic life. In an era where our digital presence and public engagement are increasingly important, providing structured support in these areas is essential. Yet such training is sometimes overlooked in formal curricula. Volunteering allows us to fill these gaps and respond to emerging needs in flexible, responsive ways.
Looking back, what I initially saw as a simple contribution has become a reminder of the potential embedded in small actions. Volunteering for the Graduate School was not just about delivering workshops; it was about participating in the ongoing reimagining of academia. It was about recognizing that change does not always require grand gestures. Sometimes, it begins with offering a few hours of your time, sharing what you know, and creating space for others to grow. As we continue to think about how to build more inclusive, supportive, and meaningful academic environments, it is worth paying attention to these micro-practices. They may not always be visible, but they are deeply impactful. And perhaps most importantly, they are accessible to all of us. Positive Academia is not a distant ideal. It is something we enact, one small action at a time!