Higher Education, Inclusion

Inclusivity (Again)

On NPR’s Morning Edition this morning, there was a two-minute interview with Chef Samin Nosrat, regarding favorite books and albums of the last decade.  Both of her recommendations, Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and the album A Seat at the Table by Solange Knowles, explore the experience of race in the United States in interesting and affirming ways.  As I listened to Nosrat, I was struck by these words:

“I don’t think I really understood that I was being left out until I saw myself in reflected in art and I hope that it just continues to happen, and more and more people feel included and seen.”

So often, the conversations around inclusion, social justice, and equity are argued in accusatory tones, yet Nosrat expresses it so simply here.  She helps us see the positive impact of simply seeing oneself reflected in the culture.

I have written about this same topic as I experienced it, when C.J. Cregg appeared as the White House Press Secretary on The West Wing.  Until that time, I understood some of the structural issues that disempowered me, but I did not realize that I was hungry for a story about who I thought I might be.  It was not that I spent a lot of time complaining or even noticing my absence, but the presence was powerful.  Like Nosrat, I embraced that experience as a kind of affirmation and a wish for everyone else.

However, wishing isn’t enough.  We need to take seriously the important work of reflecting the rich and diverse experiences of all people in our curriculum.  Here is the thing; this is probably the easiest task we face when we consider issues of equity.  This does not require new funding streams or K-12 reform. The only cost is the time required to make these shifts.

On the course level, this is just a little summer homework as we review our syllabi to see that insure that we are broadly representative in the voices and images we include.  If the course is coming from a single perspective, perhaps some work needs to be done.  Since the topics we discuss in education are researched everywhere in the world, it is just not that hard to find diversity.  Indeed, the passage from Americanah that Nosrat references suggests that it need not always be one-to-one representation (Irish for Irish-Americans, Jamaican for Jamaican-Americans). Including some voices about the experience of being different from the majority can make a difference.

At the level of the major, we might ask a broader question. Have we explored the things that drive economic decisions from the perspectives of the many cultures within and outside of the United States?  Is this knowledge woven into our business curriculum in ways that help students see that general notions of rational decision-making are cultural constructs that shift as priorities shift?  How might those differences reflect understandings of commitments to family, community, nation, and self?  There is so much research in business, economics, sociology, anthropology, and philosophy that could inform rich discussions about culturally shaped decision-making.  Reading about these differences might allow for better predictions, but also better understanding of priorities among our friends and relatives.

At the level of general education, have we infused considerations of our positions in society into most of our foundational requirements?  It is not sufficient to check off the intercultural competency box (or whatever variation of this you have at your school) and call it a day.  We must be weaving the impact of social and economic structures into most everything we do.  This is not just for the humanities, it is also urgent in STEM.  On Friday, I was listening to a story about training future physicians to diagnose things like skin cancer on patients who are not white.  The current experience is that most of the images used in medical training are of light-skinned people.  This leaves a big gap in the ability to see and easily recognize the signs of illness on darker skin.  The simple answer, once again, is look at your materials and include greater diversity.  Then we all have half a chance of a timely and accurate diagnosis.

In a world filled with shouting, I hope this suggestion is heard in calm and inclusive tones. I have not suggested excluding those who have had the benefit of attention prior to now. We should still consider the contributions of Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare, Nikola Tesla, and Henry Ford. Their work has important insights and points of argument and they should not be ignored.  However, I believe there is room for Ida Tarbell, Mary McLeod Bethune, Ada Lovelace, and Sonya Sotomayor.

What I am trying to say, is there is lots of room for thoughtful inclusivity.  There is time in our curriculum if we simply make that time.  There are abundant examples to help us help our students see themselves in the thinking and the opportunities to which they are being introduced.  If we do this, we can help “more and more people feel included and seen.”

 

Higher Education, Innovative Pedagogies

Starting with Learning

The drumbeat of mergers and closures of small colleges appears to be speeding up.  Chancellors and Presidents of public systems of higher education are examining mergers, shared leadership, and stripped down administrative structures to try to preserve the range of opportunities available in their states.  In New England (and Alaska), shrinking demographics are driving these conversations forward at a sometimes alarming pace.

At the same time, we have seen other developments such as SNHU’s competency-based degrees, Stevens Point’s proposed cuts of several majors (now reconsidered and reconfigured as mergers), Hamilton’s promotion of an open curriculum (less focus on majors, more on developing an area of interest), and this morning, Wichita State’s shrinking of their general education requirements from 42 credits to 33.   And in the background is the constant credential refrain, with short certificates gaining more and more traction.

How can those of us in higher education leadership respond to this tidal wave of change in sane and thoughtful ways?  Well, I don’t really know where to begin, but here are a few thoughts.

Credit hours may be an archaic idea, but the idea that it takes time and interaction with other people to develop the habits of mind we associate with a college education is not.

I am happy to consider online or blended learning, shorter and longer times on material, and even the opportunity to test into higher levels of courses to reflect learning prior to higher education.  These considerations are driven by focus on what and how our students will best learn with us. This does not mean, however, that I am willing to consider the notion that higher education should be construed as a series of tests of existing skills in exchange for a credential.

While the complexity of non-standard times, differing learning modalities, and the evaluation of prior learning are much more difficult to manage well than the simple admissions tests of our existing structures, I embrace them because they are responding to genuine changes in the world of potential students. Information is everywhere and it is clear that people can learn to do many, many things from a YouTube video (play an instrument, develop a computer app, pass algebra, build a shed).  We must not ignore this, or the fact that some of the things we want our students to be able to do are well supported by these short tutorial formats.

Nevertheless, the more complicated abilities that are described as critical thinking, lifelong learning, cultural competency, and communication take sustained interactions with others and with the support of a professor.  The opportunity for (slower) sustained interactions is the opportunity for students to develop comfort with ambiguity, stumble on their assumptions with the chance to revise them, and learn that all knowledge is developed through insight and error. If we move to new time constructs, we must not lose this part of education.

Interdisciplinary connections matter, but they do not replace disciplinary expertise. 

I love the imaginative things that are happening with majors.  Hamilton’s open curriculum mirrors what many elite schools have done for years.  They allow students to discover connections between subjects to build a major or a portfolio of capabilities that will help them pursue advanced study or careers.  At my university, we do this through Contract Majors or the Interdisciplinary Studies degrees.  We have lots of traditional majors, but we also make room for those new or yet undiscovered connections. Making  more room for those authentic connections might be a good idea, because disciplines are evolving and sometimes students see the change before we do.

Nevertheless, a biologist is still a biologist.  A literature scholar still offers depth of understanding of genres and structures of the novel, poem, etc.  A mathematician is still the expert on differential equations.  Combining disciplinary perspectives should be the heart of a college education, but that combination should be made by experiencing learning with people who have advanced knowledge in each topic.  Without that advanced expertise, students will not discover the nuances of a topic or the complications that arise from ambiguity. Instead, they will end up with a simplified overview of a topic. That is not college, that is YouTube.  So, let’s support the pursuit of connections with new strategies, but let’s not lose the value of the expert.

Focusing on higher order learning outcomes is a good idea: making everything the same is not.

AAC&U has long supported the Essential Learning Outcomes and as we see an increased emphasis on what employers want, it turns out that they frequently list the very same things.  Everyone wants college graduates who are skilled in critical & creative thinking, oral and written communication, quantitative reasoning, information literacy, problem solving, inquiry & analysis, the ability to collaborate, and some understanding of the world around us (history, culture, ethics, etc.).  These essential learning outcomes (codified in the VALUE Rubrics) prevent the narrowness of focus found in course finals or major field tests and frame the outcomes of a college degree as habits of mind and skills that prepare graduates to engage with all kinds of questions for the rest of their lives.  In short, graduates should know how to evaluate information, make decisions, and ask more questions.

As a communication scholar, it is easy for me to see that at a high level of abstraction everything we do in college is about inquiry and analysis. The behaviors and skills that represent competence in inquiry and analysis can be summarized in a way that allows every discipline to demonstrate some level of mastery in these abilities.  But this does not mean that every discipline is the same. Comfort in inquiry and analysis will reflect the specific skills most emphasized in the major.  For it to reflect the whole of an undergraduate degree, it must include some comfort in the areas that are not well situated in the major. That was the point of the liberal arts degree.

So where does this leave me and my quest for thoughtful consideration of the many changes facing higher education?  It leaves me with a clear focus on learning.  We can support learning in any number of formats, time frames, and disciplinary innovation, but we must remember that to support it well means to resist the temptation to overgeneralize (make everything the same) or to reduce everything to very narrow skills (badges).  It is the fluid motion between the abstract and the specific that will help students grow, develop, and take control of their own learning.  That is the environment that I’d like to nurture.

 

 

 

 

Affordability, equity, Higher Education

New Educational Models

This morning’s news about higher education included two articles related to the financial structures in higher education.  The first, A New Model for a New Reality, discussed St. John’s University’s efforts to replace tuition funds with donor funds, to reduce the cost to students.  The second, A Public College Merger in Arkansas, describes the merger of Henderson State with the Arkansas State University System.  This is a cost saving measure, seeking to leverage shared services (IT, HR, etc.) to reduce costs in the face of shrinking enrollments due to demographic shifts. These stories are part of steady stream of stories about vulnerable institutions of higher education.

Much of the eastern United States is facing the squeeze arising from a significant decline in high school graduates and these cost containment strategies may help us get through it.  Indeed, in terms of public systems, my frugal side suggests that sharing some resources, already invested in by the residents of my state, is a fair and thoughtful strategy.  However, I think we have only scratched the surface of the problem (sustainability) for higher education.  We need to think much more broadly about new models, than these efforts to balance budgets suggest.

To get a little more insight into this, we need to look beyond the headlines surrounding particular colleges and universities in dire financial straits, and consider the many environmental factors affecting higher education right now.  Here is but one intertwined example: the expansion of advance placement (AP) to full associate’s degrees in high school, and the national strategy of increasing post-secondary education attainment to 60% by 2020 (https://www.ets.org/Media/Research/pdf/37720-Challenges-and-Opp-Exec-Summary.pdf).

Advanced Placement courses were once available to a limited pool of students at relatively well-funded high schools.  Today, earning college credit in high school is widely available.  This transformation has involved a variety of steps.  First, we have expanded opportunities by moving from a simple AP test, provided by the College Board, to offering Early College programs, which include partnerships with local colleges and universities.  Early College is overseen by faculty at the partner schools and provides students with direct college credits (Calculus, for example), at that university, and a very low cost.  Progressive school districts have found ways to support the costs for the neediest students, broadening access to a college level curriculum.  This is a positive, but there is more to the story.

Because of the affordability of this model, and a desire to expose more students to college-level experiences, there has been a move to offer the full associate’s degree in high school. The difficulty here is simply this–high school is not college.  Although a student may master calculus in high school, and deserve college credit for it, in reality the conditions under which that material is learned are very different from college.  The pace is slower, and the supports for learning much stronger, because there is not the same presumption of independence (appropriately so) in high school.  In addition, this is mostly a cost-shifting scheme, making high schools responsible for supplying an educational opportunity for which they receive little financial support.

A related development, driven by the focus on increasing the attainment of post-secondary credentials, is a tremendous investment in community colleges. The target of 60% degree attainment by 2020 is driving a focus on two-year degrees and certificates.  There are significant barriers to increasing the number of people enrolled in four-year degrees, so focusing on two-year degrees and short-term certificates makes a lot of sense.  This, however, effectively leaves four-year degree granting institutions out of the conversation, and frequently underfunded.

Now, all of this is complicated and not something I can fully dissect in this blog, but I would like to consider a few implications.  First, the structural issues that are keeping students from four-year degrees are largely financial.  Moving education to the high schools just hides the problem and cheapens the educational experience. Focusing on investing in community colleges, at the expense of investing in universities, is likely to reduce the number of students who consider pursuing four-year degrees.

Second, while these cost cutting schemes look like great paths to access, they tend to prioritize completion over growth.  I am all for access to jobs that can stabilize family finances quickly, but certificates and two-year degrees tend to be less than is needed for a full career arc in a constantly changing economy.   Funding access to those, at the expense of four-year and post-baccalaureate degrees, is likely to keep the neediest students from access to the full education experience that they deserve.

It is hard to discuss the complexity of these issues without appearing to devalue first-level credentials. That is not my point at all.  I am a champion of community colleges and a supporter of reasonable early college initiatives. What I am suggesting, though, is that we need to look at these initiatives in the context of the full range of opportunities we hope to provide to our community. Perhaps, reconfiguring our education timelines should be part of this conversation. If we determine that supporting initial credentials in high school can help students find their way to additional education and careers, fine. Then that should be the path for all students, not just those who can’t afford college. If a stop at community college to round out that initial certification and provide some career foundations is a good idea, great. Then it should be the norm, and not a strategy just for those without a family history of attending college. After this, attending universities for baccalaureate and graduate degrees should be financially available to everyone, as we support long-term growth in the rapidly evolving workplace.

What I am trying to say is this; it is time for us to have a real conversation about what our post-secondary education goals should be, not just in terms of attainment, but in terms of equity, and real access to life-learning. We must re-imagine education for modern standards and expectations, and then create funding models that make the full range of post-secondary credentials truly accessible to all.

Community, Dialogue, Engagement, Higher Education

The Fifth Estate

Last week, I had a wonderful conversation with some of Western Connecticut State University’s talented faculty, as we prepared for Scholars in Action.  The Scholars in Action series features interdisciplinary conversations between faculty whose research intersects in some way.  The intersection is sometimes very loose, perhaps around a single common word, or sometimes quite direct, particularly when we focus on pedagogy.  The fall 2019 group was selected because of a shared focus on culture as important variable in marketing, justice and law administration, sociology, and philosophy.

One of the goals of Scholars in Action is to encourage us to get us out of our departments and into conversations with a broader university community.  Indeed, each time I host one of these panels, I find myself seated at a table with a group of people who have never met each other. The simple act of introductions is enlightening and exciting for all of us, as we get to know our colleagues.  Then we start talking about the scholarship, which expands our understanding of the varied approaches to research as well as disciplinary research priorities and boundaries.

This time, however, there was something more.  We went around the table, hearing first about how social exclusion can drive consumer behavior, then a provocative question about the ways in which we define “homeland security,” then insights into how academics can facilitate dialogue during international development efforts, and finally the ways in which power and economics can exclude or mischaracterize critical voices in environmental decision-making. As I listened to my colleagues describe their research, I found myself thinking about the richness of the questions asked, and the importance of our contributions to thoughtful discourse.

You see, most of the time, when people talk about scholarship in higher education, they focus on either breakthrough discoveries (usually in STEM disciplines) or on politically charged works that are poised to shake up the status quo.  These are important and useful contributions from the academy, to be sure, but they are only a small part of the story.  For most of us, the breakthroughs are elusive, but the day-to-day insights are profound.  It is these insights that guide curriculum, inquiry, and overall conversations with our students.  Cumulatively, they help us further our thinking in our disciplines while continuously uncovering next questions. These questions become the heart of our teaching.

The value of the questions that we pursue in the academy, whether large or small, have the power to re-shape worldviews.  For example, when a faculty member asks students in a communication class to map the representation of women athletes on ESPN (perhaps as research assistants or as part of senior research project), those students may simply contribute to a well-defined body of research surrounding popular culture and the construction of gender in the United States.  This, alone, can help students see that there is more thinking to do around athletics than simply calculating the odds of a win, or mapping coaching strategies. This change in perspective can have a larger impact on how they see other questions of equity, stereotypes, and power.  It might also help them see where progress has been made over time.

The faculty member who has developed expertise in the questions around representation in athletics will add to that body of literature, to be sure, but they will also have important examples and insights that go beyond the literature review. The specificity of their examples is likely to inspire deeper connections with the subject in their students because of its freshness in the mind of that faculty member.  Let’s face it, we are all excited by our new insights and discoveries, and that excitement is visible to our students.  With each new finding, faculty demonstrate what it means to be a critical thinker and a life-long learner, and the rewards of the hard work that research requires.

Universities like mine are rarely recognized for scholarship.  While all of my faculty are engaged in projects large and small, and a few hold patents or are the recognized authorities in their field, because we are generally characterized as a teaching university, the value of our scholarly efforts are often unobserved.  Yet scholarship of all kinds is woven into everything we do.  Our passion for our subjects helps us support the very best learning environments for our students.  We model curiosity and dissatisfaction with unanswered questions. We hope we are cultivating graduates who are interested in searching for answers to questions large and small.

As I left our preparatory meeting for Scholars in Action, it occurred to me that perhaps education should be called the Fifth Estate.  Our context allows us to pursue questions without the timelines and profit margins brought to bear on journalism, and without the vagaries of re-election that drive the legislative, executive, and even the judicial branches of government. In education, we have the unique opportunity to pursue ideas that interest us and take the time necessary to sort them out.  We are also committed to challenging our own assumptions about what is right, what is real, and what is possible.  This can help us contribute wonderful insights into all kinds of things. This is valuable to be sure.

But our value to a democratic society isn’t just about the research questions we try to answer. Cultivating the habits of scholarship in our students is our much larger and perhaps more important contribution.  The ways in which our scholarship can inspire our students to ask questions and seek answers is a vital part of creating an educated citizenry.  That contribution to democracy is invaluable.

Evaluation, Higher Education

Root Causes

Since many institutions of higher education set preparation for and engagement with life-long learning as a goal, it is fitting that I should take my own continued education to heart. Recently, I enrolled in a course called Policy Design and Delivery: A Systematic Approach to strengthen my skills at both developing and analyzing policy proposals.  Motivated by a sense that the many “solutions” to higher education’s problems do not represent a clear and thoughtful analysis of the contexts in which those problems arise, I am searching for a better understanding of how to craft a good policy.  It has been illuminating so far.

Without even using the tools in my policy design course, though, I can see that many of our education policies mistake correlations for causes. For example:

  • Students who participate in co-curricular activities have higher retention rates than those who do not, so we push to require co-curricular activities.  Sounds good, but maybe the students who are committed to staying at a university are the ones who decide to get involved.
  • Students who attend classes regularly are more likely to be successful than those who do not, so let’s adopt attendance tracking technologies and pair them with nudge technology and get students into class.  Attendance matters of course, but not attending is often a decision that no amount of nudging will change. Perhaps attendance is the mark of a student who wants to succeed.
  • And for today’s discussion: Students who commit to a true full-time schedule are most likely to complete their studies…otherwise known as 15 to finish.

Complete College America has invested a lot in the 15 to finish initiative, and for good reason. First of all, we have been confusing our students about the meaning of full-time.  Federal financial aid rules set full-time status at 12 credit hours per semester. This status opens up access to housing and many grants.  A student might logically conclude that 12 credits per semester is sufficient for timely completion of a four-year degree.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t add up. State, national, and accreditation standards define an undergraduate degree as a having a minimum of 120 credit hours (there are some regional differences, but this is the generally accepted standard). The true number is 15 credits per semester.  This is important for us to communicate, so the slogan is a good start.

Second, there is a growing body of research surrounding the notion of “momentum.” Simply put, students who are engaged in their majors early and earn those 15 credits per semester tend to remain motivated to get to the finish line. This is usually linked to guided pathways, which help to limit the chances that students enroll in courses that do not support progress in their degree plan. Success and engagement propel students forward.  Those on a slower path have a greater tendency to stop out, or grow discouraged and lose sight of the finish line.  So, in an ideal world, a truly full-time schedule with a mix of general education and major coursework from the first semester of enrollment is the best approach to degree completion.

Great, but here is where it starts to get problematic. Once we clear up the mystery of degree requirements so that all students understand the 15 to finish concept, there are still myriad reasons why 15 credits per semester is not possible for a significant number of students.

  1. A student may need to work on some foundational skills in their first year of college and the better path to success is 12 or 13 credits, rather than 15.  For example, if a student is behind in their math skills, they might enroll in a 4-credit course in math (rather than the more typical 3-credit general education math course).  To get their schedule just right, with adequate time to pay attention to those math skills, it might be best to stop at somewhere between 13 credits.  If all goes well, the end of the first year might leave that student with 27-29 credits. This is technically behind (below 30 credits) and penalties follow. In this case, the most obvious penalty is their continued status as a first year student. Registration priorities are tied to the number of credits earned.  Higher numbers go first.  A student who took this slightly slower path is at a higher risk of not getting into the next class in a set of requirements because they are still registering with first year students.
  2. A student may be enrolled in a highly competitive program that requires very challenging foundation courses, and opts for a slightly lower number of credits to help manage their time and attention.  For example, science, nursing and pre-med students are likely to take this option.  They might be enrolled in two lab sciences (8 credits), math (3 credits or 4), and humanities (3 credits). If the math class is 4 credits, they will be on track for the 15.  If not, they will be behind and suffer the same penalty as the student with some foundational needs.
  3. A student may have to work while in college (or raise children or report for military service).  The rational decision is to take a lighter load, but the penalties abound.  A part-time student will not be eligible for many grants, will not receive the benefits of the bundling discount (charging the same price for 12-18 credits) and will suffer the registration penalty because they have not yet made it to the status of sophomore or junior or senior.  This means that a hard working part-time student could be in school for eight years, steadily working toward a degree, and never be recognized as deserving of the benefits of higher class standing and never receive any financial support. Now that is a real disincentive to completion.

So, what’s the point. Well, if 15-to-finish were just a catchy slogan it would be of no real concern.  Indeed, some of the things I have described are things that we can fix locally by reimagining our registration priorities and focusing on part-time tuition support. But there are now trends toward additional financial aid strategies being tied to the 15 credits per semester (See New York’s Excelsior Program as a start).  As the nation discusses free tuition, the nuances I have described are frequently missed. Many of these proposals are built around that ideal full-time student.  Yet many of the students who would benefit from this tuition break will not qualify because they will not be able to complete 15 credits per semester.  Again, the penalties can be tremendous.

As for cause and correlation, well it is obviously true that completing 15 credits per semester is correlated with higher graduation rates. But the root causes of student success, which lead to the ability to actually complete those 15 credits, are far more complex than the credit story.  We need to step back and look at the conditions that are driving those behaviors so that the policies we design do not continue to disadvantage those who need our help the most.