I support the spirit in which this book was written and I believe that the core thesis is spot-on correct. Thus, the book's very existence may help draw attention to the issues on which it is focused. At the same time, I regret that its further usefulness may be limited.
The thesis is that the vast majority of commentary on American higher education has missed the mark. The true problems have little to do with issues of efficiency and cost. The key problem is value. While commentators continue to talk about the need to run universities like businesses, reduce costs, streamline programs, enhance access, and so on, they miss the central point: students are simply not learning. Undergraduate learning per se is not even a priority in most institutions and many of the steps that have been taken to enhance efficiency have, in fact, further reduced the possibility for higher learning.
Those who have read my recent eBook on higher education will know that I support this argument and have made it myself. Keeling and Hersh's desire to press this issue and bring more attention to it should be applauded. The point was already hammered home by Richard Arum and Josipa Roksa's Academically Adrift: Limited Learning on College Campuses, but others have also addressed the issue and additional voices are always welcome.
Keeling and Hersh's solutions to the problem are, unfortunately, not likely to bear a great deal of fruit. They argue, in very general terms, for learning experiences that are more intense, more coordinated, more developmental, more vertically and horizontally integrated, and so on. In other words, approximately half of the book consists of counsels of perfection of the sort that one is likely to hear at an academic conference or in a foundation report.
Problems: Messrs. Keeling and Hersh's backgrounds do not prepare them well for addressing these issues; one worked specifically in student affairs (actually student health) administration and the other in teacher training. The result is an overemphasis on the role of student services professionals (most with master's degrees at best, virtually none with specific instructional responsibilities) in the delivery of undergraduate education and a tendency to focus on `holistic' and other touchy/feely principles. This is a central point in the debate: should colleges attempt to inculcate learning of an intellectual nature or should they set themselves the task of taking responsibility for the full range of elements in a student's maturation? Are students adults who come to institutions of higher education for education or are they barely-out-of-adolescence children who need the nurturing hand of an army of student services professionals? The fact that the average age of American undergraduates is now approximately 29 and that the vast majority of students work (taking responsibility for their lives in ways that children do not) should be a part of this discussion.
Keeling and Hersh's key advice with regard to the problem is that we need a national discussion on the issue. The discussion must be led by universities. We have a problem. We need to talk about it. We really need to talk about it. We really, really need to talk about it.
Here is the problem: the vast majority of those in higher education who would lead the discussion have taken the current situation for reality throughout their academic careers. The faculty who studied twice as hard as current students when they were undergraduates have largely died or retired. The student-as-consumer, the student-as-customer evaluating faculty, e.g., emerged in the mid-to-late 1960's. This (rather than the student as apprentice, which Keeling and Hersh and I advocate) is simple reality to the faculty who took their degrees in the 1980's and 1990's. So too is grade inflation. So too is the radically reduced core curriculum. So too is the shunting off of general education requirements on graduate teaching assistants and contingent faculty. The charismatic teachers around whom colleges were built have been gone for generations. The norm for a top faculty member now is to be on leave whenever possible, have a small teaching load, largely confined to graduate students, not to teach a large number of students and represent, in a sense, the institution's signature. Current faculty, by and large, have no personal experience of such a world and they are inured to their administrators' continual polishing of the university `brand' rather than seeking to achieve a definable signature.
Keeling and Hersh are also naďve with regard to many of their proposals (though I have great sympathy for them). They understand that high-touch, high-expectation, intensive academic experiences are expensive. They point to Oxford tutorials, for example. I would love to see our students have such experiences, but it is simply not going to happen across American higher education. I have participated in that kind of instruction, taking students on tours, for example, that involve instruction, discussion, site visits, and so on. Where a drama class might now consist of the study of a half dozen plays, my students attended 10-12 in the 2 weeks of evenings following daily lectures, discussions and visits. It's all wonderful, but you cannot do it for more than 15 students at a time and you have to take them to London and house and feed them. Students with jobs and family responsibilities have a great deal of difficulty in participating in such experiences. That is why so many students pursue for-profit education; they can schedule their academic work around their lives.
There is another great risk, one that several commentators have now indicated. If we were to have a national discussion about education, why--given the current professoriate and given the fact that American higher education is now overwhelmingly vocational/'professional'--would we assume that that discussion would lead to higher expectations, more coherent curricula, more intensive learning experiences, and so on? What if it would lead to curricula that were more `expressive' than substantive? Curricula that focused on identity politics to an even greater degree than current ones? Curricula that further reduced requirements or further lowered expectations? Curricula that were more politically biased? Curricula that enabled faculty to pursue their own narrow interests to a greater degree than current ones? Note that the lowest grades awarded by the alumni/trustees group for coherent core curricula are usually received by the nation's `leading' institutions. These are the institutions that most colleges seek to emulate.
Keeling and Hersh argue for a common reading experience prior to matriculation. What if the book or books chosen are vapid? Unchallenging? Politically biased? They argue for a universal requirement of a freshman seminar, taught by tenure-track faculty. What if the faculty largely choose to teach narrow subjects related to their own research interests, without regard to student interest or need? (As an undergraduate I was required to take a great books Junior Seminar, taught by all members of the faculty--the kind of course that brings stars to the eyes of academic planners: the faculty and students, joined harmoniously in an academic community, learning together. My section was taught by a mathematician who knew very, very little about world literature, classical political thought and the history of ideas. He was a nice man but he taught us virtually nothing.)
They argue for rigorous assessment. At St. John's? Fine. At West Point? Fine. In a large public institution with dozens of colleges and schools, hundreds of majors, multiple `general studies' majors, majors with minimal requirements? I understand that their argument is that we need to totally change American higher education in order to provide true, `higher learning'. I agree. But what is the likelihood that we will close all professional schools at the undergraduate level, particularly when the parents and politicians who fund us are calling for more vocational education? Students need to be motivated. I agree. What is the likelihood that we will reduce the number of students in American higher education, e.g. by half or so--to the number that are currently actually graduating? If we did have rigorous assessment, have the authors ever participated in a college program that asks all seniors to submit to a comprehensive examination? (I have had colleagues who have participated in such programs, at distinguished northeast liberal arts colleges, and they have told me that most student responses during their `orals' were laughable, that this became little more than a rite of passage; had it been a true examination, the vast majority would have flunked and failed to graduate. English universities have their students tested in this fashion, but they begin to specialize much earlier, they are far less vocational, they are far more selective, their curricula are far more coherent and all institutions are public--dependent on government support which is, to a considerable degree, performance-based.)
We can only hire the graduate students that are being graduated today. It is very unlikely that they could lead a discussion that would yield the kinds of results of which Keeling, Hersh and I dream. It is equally unlikely that a top-down, dictated system of higher education would be welcomed by a professoriate personally invested in a completely different system.
Of course, in many cases, this is not a problem. I believe, for example, that our physics students are having a wonderful experience.
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