• Home
  • About Us
  • Guest Posts
  • Liner Notes

Searchbar

Showing posts with label Academic everything. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Academic everything. Show all posts

Thursday, December 24, 2020

Thursday, December 24, 2020

Stories may seem feeble compared to big data or political power.  This is a false impression. In reality, data and power operate through stories and their effects are determined by them. Your budget slides or whatever have to have the proper story.

The strongest stories in 2020 were abolitionist: abolish student debt, abolish college tuition, abolish grad student rent burden, abolish the police. Abolish the at-will firing of abolitionist scholars. These stories always get out in front of the means of achieving their goals. This is a feature not a bug. Their point is to imagine and concretize the goal itself, and rally people to figure out how to achieve it. The same goes for abolishing Covid-19. Full eradication of pestilence of all kinds is what makes people jump out of bed in the morning.

My approach is chronically materialist and institutionalist, so I chronically focus on finance and budget.  We don't have the same abolitionist power with these narratives, and generally haven't found narrative power in other forms. I'm going to look at the national budget picture here, and then, in Part 2, turn to a local university budget insurgency that should be put to use. 

The Covid relief bill arrived six month late, with fractional funding for higher ed and nothing for the states that fund it. Its support for the overall public is a shadow of the need. The failure of the federal government to meet the basic requirements of its population is a two-party creation. The Democratic contribution has been an unconvincing narrative grounded in a failed economic model.  The compromise deal emerged from moderates from both parties who share the disastrous "safety net" model of government, and who agree that government's collective action produces no real value, just remediation. The Democratic leadership had no better storyline of mass enablement or intelligence working in common, so politics is trapped in the Victorian logic of public assistance, and treats a raging pandemic with quarter measures.

The glaring example of narrative success is Ronald Reagan's hydra-headed narrative, for which the series title was, "government is not the solution to the problem; government is the problem." Thousands of smaller stories fleshed out this master plot. They had a stock cast of characters that were themselves compressed political types, like "welfare queen."  The Reagan machine perfected this narrative with remarkable discipline for decades. It dismembered the New Deal, discredited the civil rights movement, and turned every public system into a remedial function, the very opposite of what created economic value and national greatness. Public education became a problem rather than an asset, and public colleges and universities did not escape.  Reagan's story was a fabrication. But it changed the course of U.S. history.

Barack Obama has been known to quote Martin Luther King quoting Theodore Parker that "though the arc of the moral universe is long, it bends towards justice." It's more accurate to say, "the arc of the moral universe bends towards narrative."  

This week's example is the $900 billion relief finally passed by Congress, that is, allowed to pass by Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell. (It is likely to survive Trump's possible veto, with still more delay.)  The deal offers important material relief, but it is also the vehicle for a Republican story, to be told in Georgia.  The story has a goal, which is to keep the Republican Senate majority by delivering both special election seats to the Republican candidates, so McConnell can remain our shadow POTUS. 

The story is this: "Republicans like Kelly and David offered a helping hand to regular Georgians struggling with the pandemic. The delay was (not because they were busy insider trading with confidential Senate public health testimony--that's fake news, but) because we had to fight Democrats who wanted to take your money to bail out failed blue states." The story has to convince a lot of voters that Kelly Loeffler and David Perdue, two of the most plutocratic, anti-Black, self-dealing members of that body, really do care about them.

The secondary story is, "the moderates saved the stimulus." The press is obliging with articles about how Romney, Collins, Manchin, Warner et al. produced a "road-map" for governing under Biden. Sanders, Warren et al failed to get a deal: the future is the bi-partisan center.  Unfortunately, moderation means no money for states and one-fifth of the economic stimulus envisioned by the "liberal" Pelosi in May.

What could help people buy these stories? The lack of a radically different and compelling alternative. That lack is being constructed as I write. For example, Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer is NOT authoring a narrative saying this: 

Senate Republicans gave you half a CARES act for a quadrupled pandemic. Mitch McConnell gave you that fraction of a loaf. The bill is crap compared to actual need, and crap compared to what the American people deserve, and it's crap entirely because Mitch McConnell controls the Senate, not me. Let me describe the great version the Democrats wanted that will rebuild the country, and if you want it you need to get Kelly and David the heck out of the Senate.

Republican values, Schumer could explain in the LP version, dictate mistreatment of regular people, because they oppose government, which is the only way to treat everyone fairly when we all need the same thing. In reality, Schumer reframes it as an "emergency survival bill" and promises to fight again next year. But that's not a story. That's an adaptation to defeat.  

Most people in this country are in trouble--unfed, sick, evicted, unemployed, lied to, and about to be further abandoned by their bankrupt states.  In building the true and motivating story out of this one, it's worth bearing in mind how tired people are of half-measures and excuses. Take the half-stimulus check.  $1200 (the CARES Act level) may have meant that you could pay a month's rent and focus entirely on your 12 other major problems.  $600, the new version, means you can pay half your rent, and have to keep "rent" on the top of your list of 13 things while you find the other half, who knows how. If you find it, you don't thank the Democrats for fighting for a new stimulus since May: you thank yourself, for scrambling for the other half.  

People are engaged in a continuous low-level resistance to weak support. Democrats don't seem to get this, and they are walking into an ambush in Georgia.

There are countless books and papers on narratology, like Paul Waldman's on politics; there's a whole discipline that studies narrative and affective engagements-- my home field of literary criticism. One general lesson is that it's essential to critique the false story, but critique is just the start.

First, the critiques, which are widely available: David Dayen drills into details and pronounces the stimulus to be not enough. It is, after all, about a fifth of the $4.3 trillion HEROES Act the House passed in May. The one-time stimulus check is half of the CARES Act's ($600 per person); extended unemployment is cut from 16 weeks to 11; the eviction moratorium extends only to the end of January. Jessica Haberkorn describes other ornaments on the Christmas tree.  

Eric Kelderman does the drilling for the higher ed elements: colleges and universities get $25 billion of a $125 billion need. The student debt moratorium, already running through January 31st, was not extended, leaving that up in the air at least through Joe Biden's inauguration.  Since the bill has no money at all for states and local governments, they will struggle to avoid more cuts to K-12 and higher ed. By undermining government employment and spending like they did after 2010, Congress is priming the country for Great Recession 2.0.

Some good things do happen: the ridiculous FASFA form for financial aid applications is greatly simplified, some loans to HCBUs are forgiven, and the bill finally extends Pell eligibility to formerly incarcerated students. There's more--but only a drop in the money bucket. On this point, Kelderman cites Ted Mitchell, president of the higher ed advocacy group, the American Council on Education: “The money provided in this bill will provide some limited relief, which is welcome news to struggling students and institutions. . . . But it is not going to be nearly enough in the long run or even the medium term.”

These are fundamentally important critiques and need to be widely circulated.  But they don't generate an alternative story.

A true counter story would have a feature that the UC Berkeley linguist George Lakoff, prolific author on the Democrats' inadequate framing and narrating, calls the "truth sandwich." You set out your own view, you then critique the false or opposing view in the context of your framework, and then state your truth or vision again. 

I started to illustrate this with Schumer above, though I had it a bit backwards: Schumer should start with the glories of the House's HEROES Act, and all the problems it would solve, then blast Mitch's phony, bail out-a-Republican Senator plan, then describe the better future of Builder Biden working with strong progressive Congressional support. 

The more radical and inspiring narrative won't come from above. Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren were exceptions at the national level, but they too had to devote themselves to counterpunching the Washington establishment.  Sanders is in fine form denouncing McConnell's fake Covid medicine, but of course this isn't a left alternative. It's missing the compelling social philosophy that has to do to bipartisan Reaganism what Reaganism did to the Great Society and anti-racism movements.

Abolitionism reminds us yet again that narratives of a new society are going to come from us--not from above but from below.  Sanders did enormous good putting free college and student debt cancellation on the political map, but he did this by advancing concepts developed by scholars (like UCSB's Bob Samuels early on) and activists. This bottom-up process works, but it needs a fully engaged and activated base, in real numbers, to work at the required speed. 

Where is that base?  I'll turn to a current university example in Part 2.



Posted by Chris Newfield | Comments: 0

Monday, August 10, 2020

Monday, August 10, 2020
That may be my worst title ever but it's an important point.  So here we go. 

Where are university budgets near the end of our bad policy summer?  In a bad place -- a worse place than seemed likely during the weeks of activist government from mid-March to mid-May. In this post, I'll discuss the national issue, describe a flawed university budget discourse that makes universities more vulnerable, and link this to the failure of today's mainstream Democrats to accept the economic role of government.

The federal CARES Act was signed on March 27th, and sent universities $14 billion of the $46.6 billion they'd requested (with half of that going directly to students). Having gotten 1/6th of their stated need, higher ed advocates placed their hopes in a follow-up HEROES Act passed the House on May 15th, which Mitch McConnell, Senate Majority Leader, sat on throughout the summer.  Thus the nation's schools and colleges planned for fall in a state of deep uncertainty and growing dread.

This past weekend, POTUS signed executive orders (mostly "memoranda") mandating supplemental unemployment benefits at $300 rather than CARES's $600 per week, with another $100 to come from the states. He extended student loan forbearance from September 30 to the end of the year.  Even if these orders go into effect, there are no provisions for supplemental funding for education at any level, including nothing for the K-12 systems that POTUS and his Department of Education secretary have been trying to bully into opening.  If the states are forced to pay part of the federal unemployment supplement, which some say they can't, that will mean even bigger state cuts to education.

The American Council on Education has a helpful summary of the current situation:

There are technically three bills under discussion in the COVID-19 emergency aid negotiations. The first bill is the HEROES Act written by House Democrats and approved by the full House two months ago. The second is the HEALS Act, which represents the ideas of Senate Republicans and the White House. Finally, the Coronavirus Childcare and Education Relief Act (CCCERA) is legislation introduced by Sens. Chuck Schumer (D-NY) and Patty Murray (D-WA) that reflects Senate Democrats' ideas about education spending in response to the pandemic. . . . The bills all include emergency aid for students and institutions, but the levels of funding proposed differ greatly. ACE has estimated that institutions have a total of $46.6 billion in increased student financial need and lost revenues, and will spend at least $73.8 billion on new expenditures to reopen in light of the COVID-19 pandemic. While CCCERA provides a total of $132 billion to meet these needs, the $37 billion provided for higher education in HEROES and the $29 billion provided in HEALS fall far short. 

The federal bill that comes closest to meeting actual higher ed need--at $132 billion--has no chance of passing McConnell's Senate.

Republican control of key governing bodies has artificially induced massive state failure in suppressing SARS-CoV-2.  The U.S. has the worst Covid-19 suppression record in the wealthy world, and, by failing to build public health infrastructure (see Jeneen Interlandi's superb overview), will continue to inflict massive suffering, disparately along lines of race and class, in all of the areas where common life should offer equal treatment, including education.  The failure of public infrastructure is damaging the private economy that Republican-driven premature opening was trying to protect. Republican opposition to a new stimulus increases the odds of a new depression (see Hiltzik and Krugman for summaries). 

Operating on this familiar political landscape, it's hard for people to maintain transformative ambition.  I sketched one version at the end of April ("Our Converging Crises III"), which involved massive public spending for full Covid-19 suppression, full employment, and educational experimentation. The American self-conception is of a nation that leads the world into a better future. The reality, given our decrepit social infrastructure, is a vast majority focused entirely on getting by. 

The Real Covid Budget Crisis

The same is true in higher education. There's been no follow-up on the early burst of federal effort,  and higher ed is engaged in a new round of austerity, translated as operations cuts, layoffs, and program downsizing. The Cal State system threw in the towel early, announcing on May 12th that it would be all-online.  This was at a time when most administrations assumed Covid-19 would be well in hand by fall; Cal State's Chancellor Timothy White could see pretty clearly that they didn't have the extra billion they needed for testing, tracing, isolating, cleaning, tent classrooms, and the rest. Since then, reopening plans have gone into full reverse, including at wealthy private institutions like Princeton and Johns Hopkins whose core value is small-scale face-to-face learning.  

University of California campuses are quietly joining Cal State's closures on a case-by-case basis.  Berkeley announced all-online on July 21st.  The other semester campus, UC Merced, will open August 26th with an unspecified ratio of remote and in-person. Among quarter campuses, which start a month later, UCLA has dropped its in-person proportion from the 15-20% announced in June to 8%.  UCSB hasn't officially updated its mid-June description of fall quarter as "some face-to-face," but is heading toward basically closed. UC Irvine is keeping its students in the "most classes will start remotely" twilight zone.  All sorts of intensive planning is going on behind the scenes.  And so are planning for budget cuts when UC needs that same extra billion that Cal State needed to open safely.

Although dominated by liberal Democrats, the California state legislature put stable CSU and UC funding in the hands of Mitch McConnell at at time when he was already holding it hostage.  In the final state budget, UC will get a 5% increase over 2019-20 if and only if California gets $14 billion in federal stimulus.  If there's no stimulus, UC gets what UCOP calls an 8% cut from 2019-20.  

In addition, the permanent state budget is cut either way: the federal stimulus money will be treated as a one-time backfill on the state cut.  Even that was a bizarre combination of "augmentations totaling $212.9 million and reductions totaling $471.6 million." Rather than offering higher ed affirmation and stability during the pandemic, the legislature provided a changing combination of cuts and increases that, without an unlikely Senate backfill, gives UC and CSU a major cut.

How big a cut, actually?  The legislature reduced the state allocation for UC from $3.938 billion in 2019-20 to $3.466 billion in 2020-21.   This is a year-on-year reduction of 12.2%.  Its a Covid cut of a size that a red-state legislature could brag about.

It's worth remembering all the way back to November 2019, when The Regents requested an increase of $422.1M in overall state funding, which would have brought state general funding to $4.360B (see the slide here minus $25M for the Riverside School of Medicine).  Annual base cost increases at UC are a bit more than 5%, and since that's 5% on less than half the revenues of the core budget, which comes mostly from (long-frozen) tuition, 5% state increases put core funding further behind.  Campuses have tirelessly tried all sorts of revenue workarounds, mostly involving overenrollment coupled with non-resident student growth, but it hasn't worked. (For the resulting long-term austerity, see "Three Essential Charts"). On top of its rather brutalist history, the California legislature now proposes to cut UC by $903.5M from its November request--barring a McConnell conversion like Saul's on the road to Damascus. The is a cut of 20.7% from the Regents's November request.  

Remember too that even had that $903.5 million November increase been enacted, many campuses were projecting deficits in 2020-21 or the following year. That was not a luxury budget. To repeat: because of prior cuts by Govs. Schwarzenegger and Brown, years of tuition freezes, and sub-inflation state growth, the non-miracle state budget cut that now looks likely is a 20.7% cut from pre-Covid's home for UC semi-solvency.

This would be a disaster for UC (and CSU). And it's likely enough to be treated explicitly in plans for both budgeting and the University's political engagements.

Budget Idealism at the UC Regents

This brings is to the July 30th UC Regents meeting. The Regents have absolute authority over budgeting, revenue strategies like borrowing, as well as political advocacy. If alerted to a budgetary emergency, the Regents might be expected to instruct UCOP to mount a massive siege of Sacramento and Washington D.C., pulling in their contacts in the tech community as well as in national politics.  But UCOP's budget presentation (see the July 30 afternoon session at the bottom of this page), rather than rallying the Regents, kept the real dangers behind the curtain. And Regental behavior encouraged this concealment. 

UCOP presented the budget as in basically good shape.  Medical losses for March-June 2020 are $1.7 billon rather than the earlier projection of $2.8 billion.  UC Health VP Carrie Byington had already suggested that the med centers have learned so much about Covid treatment that they won't repeat spring's revenue losses during the current and future infection spikes. 

Undergrad enrollments are "looking very strong," in the words of associate budget VP David Alcocer (11'47"). He said the same was true of international enrollments, in spite of a very turbulent policy picture on top of Covid travel problems.  He basically claimed that enrollment targets would be hit no matter what. I'm also a bit of an optimist on enrollments because I'm a pessimist on the economy: even remote-college looks good compared to a nonexistent job market.  Polling data suggest we're both wrong, and that colleges should expect a growing enrollment melt.

The presentation noted that housing and dining revenues will be down, but UCOP did not quantify or tie these to different durations of Covid-related reductions. A bit later, UCLA chancellor Block offered some campus numbers, and in later questions a couple of Regents clarified that only single rooms will be offered in the fall, though without revenue numbers for system losses. New VP for Research and Innovation, Teresa Maldonado, gave a candid appraisal of major disruption to research, UC's distinguishing educational activity. She was particularly direct on the damage to women and early-career researchers. But this remained a matter of delayed research progress more than a fiscal crisis.

The presentation of the state budget was a delicate matter (starting around 7'40"; I'm not following UCOP slide order). Alcocer explained the numbers in the slide below (they are different from my calculations above). He noted that the final July budget has a better upside than the May Revise and a smaller potential downside. 

He then went on to explain his right-hand column. He noted that "there's a lot of uncertainty here" because the range of outcomes is nearly half a billion dollars, or 5% of the core budget (9'20").  I can attest that the uncertainty has created in campus planning a somewhat toxic mixture of paralysis, wishful thinking, gloom, and fatalism about cuts. Uncertainty is actually encouraging austerity by making the early stages seem very mild.  

But Alcocer's statement about uncertainty incurred an interruption from Chair John PĂ©rez, who said, 

I just want to push back on the way we characterize this uncertainty. And here's why. The way this reads to me, in simple terms, is "uncertainty is bad, and smaller uncertainty is better than greater uncertainty." When in fact the final budget, in both the worst-case scenario and the best-case scenario, are better for the University, than the May Revise. . .  "Uncertainty" is inherently a bad term, so if we want to look at "range"--some other way to characterize it--because we don't want a negative connotation to the spread we see in the final budget, when in fact it serves us better than the May Revise does."

This intervention forced Alcocer to repeat what he had said two minutes before, which was that the upside was better in July than in May. It suggested to me that Pérez has no idea how uncertainty is weakening the campuses. It also suggested that he would not tolerate university officials criticizing the state legislature in even a polite and indirect way. Any campaign to get a reliably flat budget from the state (not conditioned on McConnell's conversion to St. Mitch), or an increased budget that could cover Covid costs, would never get off the drawing board under Pérez.

The misty aura of fiscal stability was punctured only by Berkeley chancellor Carol Christ, who projected a $340M deficit through fiscal 2021 (or more than ten percent of the campus's $3 billion or so in annual revenues).  She read a version of her administration's July 15th statement, and stressed the dependence of the campus on tuition and state revenues. She stated that the latter were $100M below their 2008 level even though the campus enrolls 8200 more students today.  

If the Regents had paused to take that in, they'd get a glimpse of the system's deep structural woes. Berkeley is historically wealthier per student than any campus except UCLA, so a responsible Board might wonder what its woes say about the rest of the system.  This was the only time in living memory that a Berkeley chancellor has said point blank that privatization doesn't work and thus we need good state support. Actually Christ didn't say that, but she came closer than ever before to noting that the problem isn't just Covid but a flawed business model in which the University has let state funding massively decline.

Later, as Alcocer was about to move to UCLA chancellor Block for a campus view of losses in auxiliaries, Board chair PĂ©rez interrupted to complain about how long the budget presentations were taking.  "This was identified as a thirty minute discussion. . . . when an item is 30 minutes, the presentation is no more than half of that. We've now exceeded 35 minutes, before we've gotten a single Regent engaged in discussion." (32'30"). The obvious remedy would be to allocate more than a half-hour to analyzing what may be most important fiscal crisis in the University's history.  The time overrun was entirely due to letting three chancellors say a few words about their campus finances outside of the UCOP PowerPoint story.  Things got even more rushed after that--and even more superficial.  

In questions, terribly delayed to minute 38, Regent Makarichian performed his solo role of asking for budget numbers, and guessed at overall losses by adding some numbers in his head.  PĂ©rez instructed CFO Brostrom to have those figures in the September meeting. I know Brostrom had versions he could have produced then, but who would dare try the PĂ©rezian patience by pulling up another slide?  

In the meantime, UC is covering its losses with borrowing. It floated a bond for $2.8 billion in July, with $1.5 billion in "working capital" and the rest for capital projects. (UC debt has doubled in a decade from around $10 billion in 2009-10  to $24.6 billion in 2018-19). The budget discussion ended with a hopeful wait-and-see good-case scenario which, as I've said, is translated on the campuses as cuts.  

A Plausible Scenario for 2020-21

The Office of the President and the campuses are all doing projections, so I'm going to adjust some internal UC numbers to draft a plausible negative scenario.  This is not a good case, but it's not a worst-case: for example, I optimistically assume that students who can enroll do enroll, and that all are willing to pay full tuition for mostly remote instruction.  The nicer scenarios assume a return to mostly-normal after the fall term. Based on our country's failed-state approach to Covid suppression, I assume that full fall impacts last through the end of Spring 2021.  I use the governor's January budget as a base for state funding, which was $220M less than the Regents' November budget.

The assumptions:

  • Tuition: full undergraduate enrollment.  Though 75% of admitted international students do not enroll, many are replaced by domestic non-resident and resident students. Waitlists and "appeal" lists are liberally used, maintaining overall totals.
  • Housing is converted to singles, and dining does not return to normal, costing campuses 70% of normal revenues.
  • Grad student enrollment. This falls 15%, slowing research, but it has little impact on revenues as campuses simply eliminate sections as necessary in remote courses, while canceled grad seminars free up some faculty to teach more undergraduates.
  • Research continues to be affected by outbreaks made worse by shortages of tracing and isolation programs.
  • Philanthropy is reduced by renewed turbulence in the markets, as is UC investment income.
  • Medical center and clinical revenues recover from spring 2020 levels but don't get back to normal.
  • The Republicans block higher ed stimulus funding in the Senate. Although the Democrats win back the Senate in November, President Biden wishes to govern from the center, and decides not to antagonize the 48 remaining Republicans by giving too much help to education.  Like public universities everywhere,UC goes to its lower permanent state funding base.
Here's a rough estimate of what this would look like by standard budget category.

Scenario B

Budget Category

Decline $Millions

Negative % Change

2020-21 Base

39,738

 

Student Tuition and Fees

     775

14

Auxiliary Enterprises

   1165

61

Research Contracts & Grants

     779

12

Philanthropy & Investment Income

     555

19

Medical Centers

  2279

15

Educational Activities (esp Clinical Rev)

    521

12

State General Fund Appropriation

    481

12

Total Losses

 6555

16.6

Projected 2020-21 UC Revenues

32,823

 

Scenario B is a decent guess at one possible program for 2020-21: 17% revenue declines for the UC system overall, and 12% or so for the educational core.  Cuts like these would cause major damage to teaching and research, and of course prevent meaningful Covid-19 suppression.  If two things happen, first, Covid illness persists for several years, as some medical officials predict, and second, U.S. politics allows economic decline, then UC, like other universities, will be permanently downgraded.

The Governance Problem

The Republicans are obviously the biggest problem, but so are Democrats and their governing boards.  The Republican donor base sees government as a potentially victorious competitor to business and finance in economic management (through equitable tax policy and regulation but also better social infrastructure and more productive investment).  Weak government has enabled today's "plutonomy." Republican politicians logically oppose programs that will make government useful, effective, and popular and thus empower their direct rival.

But Democrats are also a problem when they reject both strong and weak Keynesianism.  In the strong version, public agencies spend massively to reconstruct society on the principle of equal treatment. This would fund a Green New Deal in which, for example, some of our tens of millions of unemployed people would be paid by the government to insulate the country's housing stock, starting with those owned by low-income people. I pointed towards this kind of spending in an April post.  Let's call it democratic-socialist Keynesianism, Sanders and AOC-style.  

There's also weak Keynesianism, a very useful combination of FDR and LBJ, in which public agencies spend massive amounts to keep an unjust and unequal status quo economy from imploding.  That would include the common-sense goal of keeping the education sector from shedding employees into a non-functional economy by giving schools and colleges stable funding. It would include the UK policy--enacted by the Conservative government--of covering 80% of the salary of laid-off employees so they can be furloughed rather than fired.  

Mainstream Democrats don't exactly oppose this kind of thing. But they don't promote it as their bread and butter. They also don't clearly expose the urgent need for it, or encourage others to expose it. At times, liberal Democrats like John PĂ©rez actively block the creation of a budgetary need for weak Keynesian spending by preventing the open declaration of a budgetary problem. 

The current UC Board of Regents is chaired by the former Democrat Speaker of the Assembly. It includes the Democrat Lt.Governor, the husband of California's senior U.S. senator, and several former or current members of two Democratic governors' immediate offices. It also boasts several wealthy and prominent Hollywood liberals.  There is really no reason for this group not to activate itself in centrist Keynesian fashion. They would then create an urgent obligation on the part of the state to sustain its educational workforce, infrastructure, and student population, whose lives are currently set to be permanently damaged by the Covid depression. 

I don't understand the complacency that demands the current UC budgetary vagueness in which nothing is true and everything is possible, until the only possibility becomes austerity. It feels like proleptic excuse making--"we didn't fail to act, because we didn't know." I don't understand the lack of ambition, even the bare ambition to keep the rising generation whole. We can obviously do that, but it will take much clearer budget work at the level of senior management and governing boards.  It will take boards willing to support unprecedented mobilizations of political will for higher education, or at least willing not to block them,

Posted by Chris Newfield | Comments: 0

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Saturday, December 31, 2016
In 2017, universities will be tempted to follow a dual strategy: resist the Trump administration's discriminatory agenda while adopting its underlying business model.  In this case, they would oppose intensified hate crimes on campuses, exclusion of Dream Act students, explicit racial scapegoating, and government intimidation, balanced by periodic administrative crackdowns on faculty speech. At the same time, they would move the university further towards the status of a business, synchronizing with our businessman-president and his nominated Secretary of Education, the privatizer-in-chief.

This hybrid policy is made more likely by the fact that it is what universities have been doing for decades. They long ago learned to follow Clintonism's fusion of social liberalism and fiscal conservatism, of public causes with public austerity.  Donald J. Trump's election brought a quarter-century of Clintonism to an end when Trump convinced enough people that both halves of the double deal were bad--social liberalism had destroyed domestic security (crime, immigration, terrorism) while Obama's Clintonomics had wrecked the majority's economy.

So shouldn't higher ed keep its head down and muddle through? A look back at 2016 suggests this won't work. And it will help us think about what might work better in the new environment.

1. There's the university's weakening status as a public good. Public status itself continued to poll well in 2016. One major California poll found that 96% think the public higher ed system is important to "the quality of life and economic vitality" of the state over the next 20 years (77% said "very important"). These data are consistent with those of the Gallup-Lumina national survey.  And yet, as more than one college president pointed out this year, the university has "gradually lost its spoken commitment to serve the public good. We started representing our worth by using metrics such as research dollars and publications, endowment size, exclusivity in admissions, and national rankings."

University leaders have misread the popularity of public universities.  They speak as though citizens want to hear about the private good of jobs and wages. This year, they intensified the claim that college yields a high return on investment in terms of a wage premium over high school, and continued to neglect the non market, indirect, and social benefits of higher education. Since calculations have shown college's non market benefits are greater than the private market benefits (Walter McMahon), universities continue to encourage society to underestimate the total value of higher ed and to under-invest in it.

Ironically, the general public understands this: in the November 2016 poll, a far higher proportion of Californians said higher ed is important to the state's future (96%) than said it is necessary for individual success (49%).  Universities would sell better to taxpayers as public than as private goods.

But if the audience is Trump, shouldn't universities double down on private good benefits? To the contrary, universities are and always will be bad private businesses, for they give their return on investment away to students and society. Conservatives like our businessman-president have known this from the start, and in fact the private-good kludge stopped netting large public funding increases  many years ago.  Universities will now need to explain their public value as part of a new social contract.

2. The way we fund research continued to hurt researchers, society, and university finances.  This year, federal funding for science was still below 2003 levels.  Even Harvard University has seen a major decline in its gross overall research revenues, and its vice-provost for research took to the New York Times to plead for the public research funding on which basic research entirely depends.  Grant application acceptance rates were so low that some universities contemplated science without sponsorship.  Yet as failure rates climbed for extramural grants, so did scientists' dependence on them. In a piece that was supposed to be about "fresh funding structures" for "research with impact," one observer that we continue to "have a system where problems are prioritized based on economic impact for the people who are going to do the studies."  Researchers move towards funded problems, whether or not the funding reflects their interest, even as funding declines.

Administrators continued to push arts and humanities faculty onto the STEM extramural funding model, though arts and humanities together receive less that one percent of federal grant funding. This push will insure that much of that research never happens.  When funding was okay, public universities could use institutional funds to support socially and intellectual valuable research that lacked external markets and sponsors.   The failure of external sponsors to cover full costs now forces universities to spend an increasing share of these in subsidizing those sponsors, and 2016 brought no apparent relief. Calculations I did for The Great Mistake suggest that the share of institutional funds going to non-sponsored faculty research is heading toward zero at public universities  (Stage 2).

One of the biggest public science stories in 2016 was the verification of the toxicity of the Flint, Michigan water supply by an academic researcher from Virginia--Marc Edwards, a civil-engineering professor at Virginia Tech.  He observed, "Normal people really appreciate good science done in their interest." He continued,
I am very concerned about the culture of academia in this country and the perverse incentives that are given to young faculty. The pressures to get funding are just extraordinary. We’re all on this hedonistic treadmill — pursuing funding, pursuing fame, pursuing h-index — and the idea of science as a public good is being lost. 
This is something that I’m upset about deeply. I’ve kind of dedicated my career to try to raise awareness about this. I’m losing a lot of friends. People don’t want to hear this. But we have to get this fixed, and fixed fast, or else we are going to lose this symbiotic relationship with the public. They will stop supporting us.
Universities might learn that they could increase funding for science by going straight to the public with explicit public-interest science.  Maybe next year.

Regardless of where institutional funds wind up, public universities no longer have enough of them. A prominent example was UC Berkeley's announcement of a "structural deficit," which officials initially blamed on a funding equity scheme in the UC system known as rebenching.  My first pass analysis found that a major culprit was the institutional funds spent to cover research costs, which were themselves as large as the annual deficit, on top of the other growing costs, some research related, visible in UC Berkeley's financial reports.

I mentioned that the election of President Trump will encourage universities to spend even more money showing that they "mean business."  These efforts will have no effect on the Trump administration, whose leader, more than any in recent memory, ties moneymaking to financial transactions rather than to research, and whose nominees have opposed the research, particularly on climate, that bears on their extractive industries.

Trump's deaf ears are an opportunity not to echo Trump's profit goals but to support what these suppress--public-good research, and new funding models that can enable it.

3. In 2016, politics got in the way of traditional tuition hikes.  "Free college" went from a fringe ideal in 2014 to official policy for both Democratic presidential candidates.  State politicians rejected the University of California's call to raise tuition 5% a year for 5 years. UC came back at the end of the year with a 2.5% trial balloon increase, which got more abuse from these politicians (though it will probably go through in the form of a tuition "adjustment" coupled with a 5% increase in the Student Services Fee--now $1074 per year).  Since the 2008 financial crisis, public universities have lost revenue Plan A (state funding that grows in step with state personal income) and Plan B (tuition hikes above inflation).

2016 saw more of Plan C (fundraising) and Plan D (non-resident student tuition).  Plan C doesn't help general operations like instruction. Plan D has been ramped up at UC to the point that NRST will add nearly a third again to regular tuition revenue next year, will increase at a higher rate than resident tuition, and will contribute 40-50 percent of all new tuition revenue every year (Financial Sustainability Plan).  Though UC has locked itself into Plan D, the public dislikes it. When the PPIC poll I've mentioned asked whether more non-resident students should be admitted specifically so their high tuition could subsidize affordability for residents, 50 percent said flat out no, and another 25 percent said only if it doesn't reduce resident enrollments.

Public universities were also milking Plan E, higher housing and board charges, and Plan F, additional user fees of the kind California expanded in the wake of tax-capping Proposition 13. 2016 brought more of these down-list plans that offer back-channel (and often marginal) returns. Once people figure them out, there will be a political price for pursuing them.

Universities may think Trump politics will revive Plan B and let them hike tuition again.  But state Republicans, who control the majority of state governments, are as hostile to tuition hikes as Democrats.  Worse, universities haven't explained to the public the specifically good and unwasteful things they would do with more public money.  They haven't come up with simple, concrete goals like "we'd lower tuition 10%," or "we'd cut average class size 10%."

Instead of hoping for higher tuition, universities have to show that the current near-freeze on tuition (now averaging under 3% per year), coupled with a near-freeze on state allocations, has been wrecking educational quality.  They have to show specifically how this hurts present students and the future of their state.  Instead of trying for new tuition revenues each and every year, they should build a new paradigm that doesn't need them.  They should adopt "free college" by a particular year as the goal and work backwards to show the public revenues this will require--and then start submitting budget requests.

4. State cuts to public funding reversed themselves somewhat.  8 years after the financial crisis, forty states increased funding in FY2015 by an average of about 5 percent, and 2016 estimates were for another 4 percent.  But these increases did not get public university funding back to previous levels: when measured per student, they are still 15 percent below that of 2008.

There was a bit more discussion this year of the damage defunding has done to state economies.  In Washington state, where the state has cut university funding by nearly a third over a decade, even official priority fields are struggling to maintain basic access.  "'We’re turning away many, many, many good students,' said Greg Miller, chair of UW's civil and environmental engineering. 'They want to do what we teach. And we should be delivering.'”  Writing from Wisconsin, a former regent summarized the problem as, "Politics is cutting the heart out of public Ivies."

We've heard a lot about non-STEM job market problems.  But cuts to public universities, with their large enrollments and academic departments, are wrecking the academic STEM market too.  By 2016, only 1/4th of biomedical PhDs are getting tenure track academic jobs.  State cuts continued to damage the knowledge economy and the STEM specializations that policymakers say they want. Anyone who cares about academic labor--the resistable rise of non-tenure-track hiring to teach STEM and non-STEM alike--must care about rebuilding the public funding on which core academic payrolls depend.

2016 was the fourth year after the overall state funding bottom, and yet some states continue to cut. Some, like Wyoming, are just starting their cuts now. Coast to coast, the minor funding recovery has not allowed colleges to get back to where they were, much less get better to match the more demanding economy. "The Dream Stalls at CUNY" was the year's most graphic mainstream media portrait of slow and steady public university decline, and "the engine of mobility sputters" remains the national story.

5. Affordability remained a national crisis in 2016, as total student debt continued to increase.  Efforts to minimize the debt crisis continued--for example in two books, Game of Loans and Student Debt, by Brookings scholars--and universities continued to insist that high financial aid protects low-income students from the burdens of high tuition.  This unfortunately is not the case.  In fact, poor students are forced to borrow as much as middle class students, as I've been shouting since at least 2014.  Definitive evidence of the negative impact on students arrived with this fall's publication of Sara Goldrick-Rab's Paying the Price.   Based on an empirical study of 3000 Pell students, it not only confirmed that 9 of 10 Pell students graduate with debt, and that fewer than half graduate in 6 years, but chronicled the hardships and forced, restrictive choices that follow lower-income students through every day of their college lives.  The subtitle of Stephen Burd's New America report summed up the situation: "the news keeps getting worse for low income students."  (See Ellen Wexler's good summary.) When public universities become dependent on non-resident tuition, they replace need-based aid with "merit" aid to recruit affluent students from other states, which means increasing costs for low-income resident students.  The proportion of Pell students who are charged more than $10,000 per year by their public universities has gone from one-third to one-half in just five years.

In her overview of her book, Goldrick-Rab noted that things will get better when colleges "listen to students and give them the benefit of the doubt" in their descriptions of how the financial aid system actually works. The bigger cure would be free college, the advocating of which can insure you won't get invited to the summit meeting.  But I estimated in The Great Mistake that getting zero debt--buy buying annual cost of attendance down to $4000 for all eligible students--would cost $200 billion, or pretty much exactly what we pay every year for a financial aid system that keeps creating debt.

2016 put free college on the policy map.  Colleges should work during the Trump administration to keep it there.

6. University officials still pondered how to outsource their core instructional functions to tech companies.  During ed-tech's peak hype of Fall 2012 through Summer 2013, MOOC vendors issued an instruction set to universities that ended, "halt and catch fire."  Bad MOOC course results canceled that command, but the promise of disrupted higher ed continues, as Audrey Watters makes clear in "The Best Way to Predict the Future is to Issue a Press Release."    The MOOCs' educational failure was obvious, and their financial failure less obvious yet real--and yet the higher ed sector still waits for "software to eat the world," or at least eat the university.   Joshua Kim pointed out that a key 2016 book on the "platform revolution" imagined it would eliminate most colleges, echoing predictions by Clayton Christensen and Udacity's Sebastian Thrun during Peak Hype.

I actually want the hype to be true: I want mastery learning where most of the class learns as much as only the top tenth usually does, and creativity learning, where students learn to define problems, design research, and solve the horrible problems their elders are bequeathing to them.  But ed-tech saying it made learning easy made it harder.   Ed-tech ignoring funding problems made them worse.

One of this year's hopeful signs appeared in a piece on adaptive learning by ed-tech analyst Michael Feldstein.  Noting that a major study of it was inconclusive--"your mileage may vary"--he added,
the study does provide a reality check on the role of the learning sciences in the craft of education. We are learning more about how people learn all the time. But we are still at the basic research level, and we face daunting methodological challenges.  . . .
In order to get an empirically valid apples-to-apples comparison of the effects of adaptive learning, which is specifically intended to help students in the same class with different learning needs, you have to start by making sure that the students you are studying are the same as one another.
Setting aside the head-spinning contradiction, how often are the students in any two course sections, even within the same course at the same institution, similar enough for a valid controlled experiment?  The answer in the . . . study is "rarely."
My response to the current situation is yes, we should be doing as much as we can with instructional technology, but only where "we" means the instructors who know student variation directly.  That means bringing faculty and staff together in ways we haven't figured out how to do.

Enhancing learning for all students is actually extremely hard, and this may be why ed-tech in 2016 seemed more focused than ever on selling to the back office. One example is enterprise software that might be able to run budget analyses of individual function costs in specific departments or courses.  Over the course of the year, I heard from several people that these systems are starting to squeeze out budgets for academic computing.

Another use is surveillance: at UC we got a reminder in January when a faculty committee leaked the information that UC president Janet Napolitano had used a data breach at UCLA as a reason to install 3rd-party hardware "to monitor and possibly record" all traffic with the outside world at all UC campuses.  Nearly a year later, nobody outside confidential administrative committees knows how extensive these programs are. The suggestion that UC has its own bulk data collection program was rejected but not refuted, and the parameters of the actual program remain unknown.  We have the odd situation in which nearly all of my university colleagues send sensitive material through gmail run through their local cable provider rather than through university servers.

Ed-tech's bigger horizon is "unbundling" the university, where it serves as means and pseudo-destiny. David Theo Goldberg pointed out "The Dangers of the Uberization of Eduation," several of which deserve special mention. One is the secrecy of the algorithmic system, which makes the provider unaccountable. (The legitimacy of one-way governance in academia continues to be an understudied topic.)

A second is the sidelining of learning as such. In Goldberg's phrase, "The certification autogenerated by the platform, much like the Uber receipt on one’s smartphone, is more about customer service, liability and immunity from potential litigation than it is about the acquisition of consequential knowledge."  A third is the decoupling of one discipline from another in the period in which we are supposed to be bringing them together, particularly across the qualitative-quantitative divide.

And fourth, unbundling will further weaken the status of the professions in the country--particularly the "liberal" professions devoted to human development"--as well as eliminate the vestiges of a faculty already fractured by the extramural grant system and adjuncting, and therefore less of a body tied to a specific institution and endowed with deliberative authority and political rights.

Universities are self-unbundling already, in part because it helps replace multilateral relationships with managerial authority.  (On the latter theme, see John Warner's "U of Chicago Asks for Safe Space-for Administrators"; also Angus Johnston.)   One group that suffers are its students, where a sense that administrators don't care about them will harm their alumni loyalty in the future and harms their learning now. (Daily Cal columnist Chris Yamas broached this topic in August.)

Any business that outsources its core functions is on the road to perdition. But with unbundling that's a feature not a bug.  Though most people in ed-tech don't support the consolidation of universities to twenty or fifty in the world, ed-tech as such doesn't know whether it wants to transform consciousness with better learning or replace consciousness with automation.  It also continues to coast on the "late-tech" Silicon Valley premise, "with this app you can fire a lot of people and keep their money."  Until ed-tech can explain how we can enhance academic labor rather than shrink it--ed-tech will hurt instruction rather than help it. As Kim pointed out, "To the extent that colleges focus on the centrality of the educator / learner relationship - a relationship that can’t be scaled or substituted by technology - will be the extent to which today’s postsecondary institutions continue to thrive."

7. Unequal funding continued to cut attainment--and increase inequality. The 2016 presidential campaign was one long rampage about the inequality boom in many dimensions.  The same problem afflicts higher ed, and this year saw no improvement.  Although the Obama administration called for free community college, no one has called for massive reinvestment in the less selective four-year colleges that educate the majority of the country's students, and an even higher percentage of its students of color.

In California, UC campuses seem to operate in the more unequal regions of the state; perhaps there is a national pattern.  The grotesque inequality of higher ed resources was brought home again for me in February, where San Francisco State's historic College of Ethnic Studies was threatened with a 14 percent cut while Stanford was announcing a $750 million endowment for Rhodes Scholarship-style scholarships to Stanford for a handpicked global elite. My estimate was that the Stanford fellows would receive about 30 times more money apiece than an SF State Ethnic Studies student.

Much of the problem is ongoing racism: one study this year plumbed the depths of the American phobia about affirmative action, and found that people would rather see colleges admit legacy children of former graduates than consider race in admissions.  In his discussion of the limits of affirmative action debates, Matthew Clair denounced the relegation of the knowledges of identity to the status of non-knowledge, signaled by the Supreme Court Chief Justice's question, "“What unique perspective does a minority student bring to a physics class?” Three years ago, the Georgetown Center on Education and the Workforce issued a landmark report, "Separate and Unequal," showing that new white enrollments mostly go to selective colleges and new African American and Latino enrollments mostly go to open enrollment colleges, where they receive lower funding.   Nothing has been done in the meantime.  Although Abigail Fisher lost her Supreme Court case against the University of Texas's affirmative action program, that "massive blow against mediocre white people" was not a victory for equality or for the better graduation rates they would bring.

8. Universities helped U.S. society stay on its post-middle class course.  Breakdowns of the presidential vote suggested that non-college people don't see the "education party" as on their side. Pollster Nate Silver, atoning for his sins, found that "education, not income, predicted who would vote for Trump."  One conclusion is that higher education has its economic limits  But I would say this is really only true in its Clintonite mode. Clintonite higher education has not fought for the strong public funding that supports colleges that serve lower-income and rural communities, much less fought in the name of blue-collar and non-college people.   It has not blasted the inequality boom--that was Bernie Sanders--which depends on not rewarding people who increase their productivity with higher wages. Clintonite higher ed hasn't supported unionization or a high minimum wage as ways of supporting the society on which it depends for taxes.  Higher ed has moved increasingly towards the donors and other elites who have benefited from if not actively engineered the inequality boom in the first place.  Now it finds its middle class tax base eroded (the wealthy never wanted to be taxed for public colleges), and its constituency cynical about getting skills that American capitalism won't pay them for anyway.

The long siege against unions has lowered costs for companies, but it's part of a deeper and wider assault on the democratic prerogatives of knowledge communities.  The most visible higher ed conflicts of 2016 fell in this category.  I'm referring to the intersection of academic freedom, academic labor issues, and what we might call professional civil rights: The downgrading of tenure in Wisconsin (see Nick Fleisher's overview), the chronic overwork of 60 plus hour weeks for years on end, the absurd firing of assistant professor Melissa Click by the board in Missouri (and faculty reaction against it), expanded unilateral budgetary authority and faculty attempts to claw some back (a Yale example), the corrosive effects of two- and three-tier faculty employment systems (see Gillian Steinberg's critique), administrative efforts to police faculty's extramural speech, as in the Drexel case Michael just wrote about.

These are part of--and a growing reaction against--the withdrawal of the the university from setting standards for a truly desirable society.  This desirable society has in the U.S. always included self-managed working conditions and economic entitlements for which faculty and college graduate jobs have stood.  We, in the university, have watched while the early versions of these democratic conditions were withdrawn from our blue-collar friends, relatives, and neighbors. We, in the university, have stood by while democratic conditions were withdrawn from the majority of our instructional staffs. We have stood by while policymakers in withdrew democratic conditions from our own political and economic base, college graduates.  2016 was the year when the Electoral College vote punished the yuppie scum Clintonite-knowledge-economy-university-symbolic analyst complex for its crimes of indifference.

* * *

2016 was also the year of growing dissent from this system. Here are a few favorite clips in the midst of a mini-renaissance of writing about higher ed:

The New York Times' Editorial Board on the National Labor Relations Board's ruling that graduate students at private universities may unionize:
This week’s ruling allows graduate assistants to vote on whether to unionize, and if they do, for the students and the universities to bargain in good faith. . . . 
There will be plenty to discuss between the students and the administrations. In recent decades, as tenure-track positions at universities have declined precipitously, teaching and research — the mainstay of universities — have increasingly been taken up by adjunct faculty members and graduate assistants, without commensurate increase in pay, status or career opportunities. On many campuses, teaching and research assistants are essentially low-paid, white-collar workers, typically earning around $30,000 a year, most of whom will never get tenure-track positions. 
The question going forward is the extent to which those new unions will help improve working conditions in academic life.
Andrew Hoberek on the Melissa Click firing:
Click’s critics have painted themselves as defenders of the First Amendment and other freedoms against a privileged academic elite. But a world in which people’s main activity, vastly enhanced by the technologies of video recording and social media, is to discipline each other for infractions of civility, is hardly a model of universal freedom. It is in fact proto-totalitarian, in the old-school, Arendt and Orwell sense. All that is needed to flip it over into fascism is a strong leader who can symbolically embody all the freedom that ordinary people are denied, and spend their time denying others. A leader, perhaps, whose most admired quality among his followers is that he’s not afraid to say whatever he wants.
Dave Vanness's Open Letter on #faketenure in Wisconsin:
not a single member [of the Madison AAUP chapter] expressed that they are confident in President Cross or the majority of the Board of Regents’ ability (or desire) to protect UW System from continued budget cuts, program closures and faculty layoffs for reasons unrelated to educational quality. In fact, nearly all of us agree that they are at best complicit with our current state government’s desire to redefine the Wisconsin Idea as primarily a workforce training mission, and at worst actively engaged. . . .
This brings me to the second broad theme that has emerged. Despite near-unanimous inability to express confidence in our leadership, many of us are afraid that expressing that lack of confidence could bring harm to the university. State legislators have already publicly threatened us with further cuts and reforms after simply announcing the upcoming vote.
Taken together, these themes lead me to ask a very important question. If nearly all of us conclude that our leadership is failing, but we allow fear of reprisal to suppress our expression of that finding, then haven’t we already lost our academic freedom? If fear of the Board of Regents, the Legislature and the Governor stops us from exercising our responsibility in governance, then I am afraid we really have lost. What’s next? Will we allow fear to change what we teach or research or say in public? 
Philip Nel on why faculty members work so much:
As I am writing this article, I should be writing something else: an email to an editor, an email to an author, a letter of recommendation, notes for tomorrow’s classes, comments on students’ papers, comments on manuscripts, an abstract for an upcoming conference, notes for one of the books I’m working on. I cannot remember the last time I ended a day having crossed everything off my to-do list.
Why do academics work so much? . . .
My 60-plus-hour weeks have not led me to [ignoring a serious illness]. But I can see how it could happen. As [Kate] Bowles points out, “we don’t yet understand this as behavior that is harmful to others, not just to ourselves. We overwork like cyclists dope: because everyone does it, because it’s what you do to get by, because in the moment we argue to ourselves that it feels like health and freedom. But it isn’t.” To work long hours because everyone does it or because that’s how you get by is to live under stress. That’s not healthy. I often joke that I’m just barely keeping my head below water. 
And that is one of my points: Time is all we have. One day, we’ll reach the last page of the calendar, the clock will stop, and our time will cease. While it is a privilege to pursue interesting work, we also need to make time to live. 
My other point is that we need time to think. I mean this quite literally: thought requires time.
 Robert Matz on "the cultural implications of the myth that English majors end of working permanently at Starbucks"
To establish themselves in their careers, English majors need to show a bit more resourcefulness than do majors in narrowly preprofessional degrees. And year after year, that is exactly what real English majors do. They do not possess this resourcefulness in spite of their English degree or as a mere coincidence with it. Creative and independent thinkers are attracted to the English degree, and that course of study helps to develop their creativity and their initiative -- the same personal qualities that serve them so well in the working world after graduation. 
So why the barista joke? It reflects negative attitudes about the English major itself rather than the realities of an English major’s likely employment. Since coffeehouses are places for reading, writing and talking, spending time in a coffeehouse is a lot like spending time in the study of English. Naturally enough, English majors like to hang out in them. STEM majors have their labs; English majors have their Starbucks. The joke about the English major barista implies, however, that unlike the science done in a lab, the study of English, whether pursued in coffeehouse or classroom, is without value. What better punishment for wasting this time than being sentenced to work at a coffeehouse rather than enjoying its pleasures, serving those who presumably chose some more valuable and lucrative major? 
We will only really dispel the myth of the English major barista when we confront head-on the structural economic problems and the narrow market ideology that drive the fear behind it. Meanwhile, in their own refusal to succumb to this fear, English majors can be confident they'll do fine spending some time in coffeehouses -- whichever side of the bar they’re on.
Exactly. Higher ed for creativity, truth, beauty, love, pleasure, knowledge, literature, science, art, and the non-college brethren-- for the entire public.

Some good news in 2016: did I mention my book came out?  You've just been through the eight stages of its doom loop--leading in to the recovery cycle I didn't discuss here. Try the six-paragraph hometown version, by Santa Barbara school administrator Brian Tanguay.  Above all, many many New Years eve thanks to all of you who have engaged.
Posted by Chris Newfield | Comments: 1