On the surface America’s public commitment to provide access to any individual who seeks entry to postsecondary education seems to be working. Our higher education system enjoys one of the highest participation rates in the world. More than 16 million students currently enroll in public and private two and four-year colleges and universities in the United States. In the past 20 years, enrollments have grown over 25 percent; the proportion of high school graduates entering college immediately after high school has increased from 49 percent in 1980 to over 68 percent today. More importantly, the gap in access between high and low-income youth has shrunk as greater numbers of economically disadvantaged students have enrolled in college; the number entering college immediately after high school having increased by over 60 percent since 1970. By any count, access to higher education for low-income students is greater today than ever.
But scratch beneath the surface of this apparent success and the story about access and opportunity in American higher education is much more complex and a lot less hopeful. As access has increased so too has stratification of participation by income. For too many low-income students the door to higher education is only partially open because financial constraints limit their choices of where and how they attend college. This is most noticeable in shifting patterns of attendance at two vs. four-year institutions. In 1973, the first year of the Pell Grant program, the percentage of Pell Grant recipients enrolled in four-year colleges and universities was 63 percent. By 2006 it had shrunk to about 40 percent.
Understandably, some measure of the difference in participation can be attributed to well documented differences in levels of academic preparation of low and high-income students and the impact of recent policies that have restricted access to four-year institutions for students with substantial academic needs. There is little question that academic preparation matters and that differences in preparation among students continue to pose daunting challenges to our ability to promote greater equality in college. But even among students with similar levels of academic skills, low-income students are still less likely to attend four-year institutions than are high-income students. Even when they do, they are less likely to attend elite institutions than are high-income students. Indeed there is even less income diversity than racial or ethnic diversity at the most selective colleges. Whereas roughly three quarters of the students at highly selective colleges come from families in the top quartile of the socioeconomic scale, just 3 percent come from the bottom quartile.
Why does such stratification of participation matter? It matters because where one goes to college influences the likelihood of college completion, in particular the attainment of a four-year degree. Data from a six-year national longitudinal study of students who began college in 1995-6 bears testimony to this fact. Whereas 6 in 10 students who entered a four-year institution earned a bachelor’s degree within six years, only a little more than 1 in 10 public two-year college entrants did so. Even within institutions income matters. Of those who began higher education in a public four-year college or university in 1995-6, only 48 percent of low-income students earned their four-year degree within six years while 69 percent of high-income students did so. Among those who started in a public two-year college only 7 percent of low-income students earned a bachelors degree while over 26 percent of high income students did so. The net result is that while 6 in 10 high-income students who began higher education in 1995-6 earned a bachelor’s degree within six years, only 1 in 4 low-income students did so.
The facts are clear. Though access to higher education has increased and gaps in overall access decreased, gaps between high and low-income students in college completion generally and four-year degrees in particular remain. Indeed the achievement gap in the completion of four-year degrees is now greater than ever. For too many low-income students the “open door” to American higher education has become a revolving door.
What is to be done? What can we do to more effectively translate the opportunity access promises to low-income students to meaningful opportunity for success in college? Clearly there is no simple or single answer. That being said, it is clear that our nation will not be able to close the achievement gap unless we are able to effectively address student needs for academic support in ways that are consistent with their participation in higher education and do so in the community colleges. Simply put, our success depends on community colleges’ success. But closing the achievement gap will be not achieved by practice as usual, by add-ons that do little to change the experience of low-income students in college. What is required is a more serious and substantial restructuring of student experience especially for the many students who enter college academically under-prepared.
This morning I want to focus on three initiatives that in different ways restructure the way we go about the task of helping academically under-prepared students succeed in college. The first of is supplemental instruction. Community colleges, such as El Camino College in California and Santa Fe Community College in Florida among many others have been employing supplemental instruction with great success. Unlike so many academic support programs that are stand-alone entities disconnected from the activities of the classroom, supplemental instruction is connected directly to the classroom. Its goal is to help students succeed in that one class. Least we forget the great majority of low-income students work while in college and many attend part-time.
Unlike the more privileged students in residential universities, many low-income students do not have the privilege of spending time on campus after class. Once class is over they leave campus to attend to other obligations. If we do not reach students in the classroom and align our actions to reshape their experience in the classroom, we will miss the great majority of students who need our support. As importantly, though academic researchers speak of student success as arising in the first year of college or perhaps in the second year, low-income students typically approach success one course at a time. They seek to succeed in one course, then move on to the next. The object of supplemental instruction is to help students achieve that goal, one course at a time. It is important to note that the success of supplemental instruction depends upon the degree to which the activities of the supplemental study groups are aligned with those in the classroom to which they are attached. This is the case because alignment enables the students to immediately apply the support they receive in the supplemental groups to the task of succeeding in the class to which the groups are attached, one class at a time. This typically arises because the supplemental group leaders, sometimes students, sometimes learning center staff, frequently meet with the instructor of the class and/or sit in the class.
This principle of alignment also helps explain the effectiveness of a second initiative that deserves our attention, namely basic skills learning communities. Rather than restructure support to just one course, as is the case of supplemental instruction, basic skills learning communities restructure support to two or more courses by restructuring the curriculum taken by academically under-prepared students. To do so they require students to enroll together in two or more courses that are in content and activities linked so that what is being learned in one course can be applied to what is being learned in another. At the same time, they provide a vehicle for academic support to be connected to all the courses that make up the learning community.
My colleague Cathy Engstrom and I at Syracuse University have just completed a four-year study of basic skills learning communities on 19 campuses across the country of which 13 were two-year colleges. With funding from the Lumina Foundation for Education and the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation we surveyed nearly 7,000 students in basic skills learning communities and in comparison classrooms using a modified version of the Community College Survey of Student Engagement and tracked their persistence over three years. At the same time, we carried out case studies of five learning communities of which three were in two-year colleges in California and New York. We interviewed over 400 students, some over three years to better understand their experience.
Rather than take up our time telling you about our findings, suffice it to say that basic skills learning communities improve student performance and persistence. They do so, in part, because of the way the courses that comprise the learning communities are aligned in their actions so that what is learned in a basic skills course can be applied in the other course or courses that make up the learning community. Listen to the voice of one student who reflected on her experience:
“The relationship in classes between accounting and ESL is helping a lot because the accounting professor is teaching us to answer questions in complete sentences ... to write better. And we are more motivated to learn vocabulary because it is accounting vocabulary, something we want to learn about anyway. I am learning accounting better by learning the accounting language better.”
Basic skills learning communities proved to be particularly effective when the faculty and staff changed the way they taught the courses. Rather than rely on lecture and drill, they employed pedagogies of engagement such as cooperative learning and problem-based learning. As a result, students not only learned the material of the courses in a connected manner, they also learned that material together. As one student told us, “We learn better together.”
The net effect is that students not only do better, they come to feel better about their capacity to succeed in the future. Listen to another student who reflected on how being part of a basic skill learning community shaped his sense of his abilities:
“It has benefited me because I have gotten to know people. I am not alone anymore. It has helped me feel more comfortable, more confident. The more confident I feel, the better I do.”
Then he adds: “I think I have gotten smarter since I have been here. I can feel it.”
The movement to employ other pedagogies in addressing the needs of academically under-prepared students is reflected in a third initiative that is now underway in California and in several other states to restructure the teaching of basic skills. Let me draw you attention to one initiative funded by the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching entitled Strengthening Pre-collegiate Education in Community Colleges (SPECC). A multi-site action-research project involving 11 California community colleges, SPECC focuses on teaching and learning in pre-collegiate mathematics and English language courses that make up the great bulk of basic skills courses taught in California. On each campus, collaborative faculty inquiry groups are exploring different approaches to classroom instruction, academic support, and faculty development. Their inquiry into the effects of these approaches engages a wide range of data, including examples of student work, classroom observations, and quantitative campus data. As one participant in the project noted “teaching basic skills is anything but basic.”
Though it is too early to gauge the success of this important initiative, it is apparent that some colleges such as Laney College and Pasadena City College have improved the success rate of their basic skills students. In the latter case the success rates in pre-algebra classes jumped from 53 percent to 74 percent. And all the result of a collaborative process of faculty inquiring into their practice. Can you imagine what changes we might achieve if we were all willing to use evidence to reconsider our own practices and together think differently about what we do. That, as you may know, is one of the primary goals of the Achieving the Dream initiative funded by the Lumina Foundation for Education.
By describing these initiatives, I hope to make a rather simple point -- namely to address the needs of academically under-prepared students, a disproportionate number of whom are from underserved groups and from low-income backgrounds, we must stop tinkering at the margins of institutional life, stop our tendency to take an “add-on” approach to institutional innovation, and stop marginalizing our efforts and in turn our academically under-prepared students and take seriously the task of restructuring what we do.
The fact is that many colleges speak of the importance of increasing the retention of low-income students and sometimes invest considerable resources to that end. But for all that effort most institutions do not take the student success seriously. They treat it, like so many other issues, as one more item to add to the list of issues to be addressed by the institution. They adopt what Parker calls the "add a course" strategy in addressing the issues that face them. Need to address the issue of diversity? Add a course in diversity studies, but do not address the underlying climate on campus that marginalizes low-income and under-represented students. Need to address the issue of student retention, in particular that of new students? Add a course, such as a Freshman Seminar, but do little to reshape the prevailing educational experiences of students during the first year. Need to address the needs of academically under-prepared students? Add several basic skills courses, typically taught by part-time instructors, but do nothing to reshape how academic support is provided to students or how those courses are taught. The result is that efforts to enhance student retention are increasingly segmented into disconnected parts that are located at the margins of institutional academic life.
Therefore while it is true that there are more than a few retention programs on our campuses, most institutions have done little to change the nature of college life, little to alter the prevailing character of student educational experience, and therefore little to address the deeper roots of student attrition.
To be serious about the success of academically under-prepared students, institutions would recognize that the roots of their attrition lie not only in student backgrounds and the academic skills they bring to campus, but in the very character of the educational settings in which students are asked to learn, settings that are the product of past decisions already made that can be changed if we are serious in our desire to translate the promise access offers to low-income students to real opportunity for success.
Nowhere does such change matter more than during the critical first year when student success is so much in doubt and the classrooms of that year where student first engage in learning. It is for that reason that there is much to be gained from a rethinking of the character of those courses and the development of coherent first-year programs whose purpose it is to ensure that all students receive the support they need to learn and persist beyond that year.
Though we have made progress in providing low-income increased access to higher education, we have been less successful in increasing their attainment of four-year degrees. If anything, the achievement gap between high-income and low-income students has increased over time. It is not enough to provide low-income students access to our universities and colleges and claim we are providing opportunity if we do not construct environments that effectively support their efforts to learn and succeed once access has been gained. Simply put, access without effective support is not opportunity.
Vincent Tinto is Distinguished University Professor at Syracuse University. This essay is adapted from his keynote address in May at the annual conference of the National Institute for Staff and Organizational Development, of the University of Texas at Austin.
You see it all the time, in the brochures and advertisements from liberal arts colleges and other non-gargantuan institutions. "Small class sizes," they promise, and for good reason, because everyone knows that small classes are better than large. No cavernous lecture halls where the professor is little more than a distant stick figure, they say -- raise your hand here, and someone will stop and listen. Plus, he or she will be a real professor, the genuine tenure-track article, not a part-timer or grad student but someone who really knows his or her stuff. Because everyone knows that real professors are better than the other kind.
Except, they don't.
Nobody actually knows whether small classes are better than large. Pascarella and Terenzini's How College Affects Students, the bible of such matters, says "We uncovered 10 studies that focus on the effects of class size on course learning. All of the investigations are quasi-experimental or correlational in design …. Unfortunately, five of the studies used course grade as the measure of learning … the conflicting evidence and continuing methodological problems surrounding this small body of research make it difficult to form a firm conclusion."
The text of How College Affects Students occupies 650 pages; class size consumes just over one of them. In the long history of higher education up to 2005, when the latest edition of HCAS was published, there had never been a single truly experimental study of college class size. Not one.
Similarly, the American Association of University Professors recently released a report criticizing the big regional accreditors for failing to enforce standards related to the growing use of part-time professors, which the AAUP regards with much dismay. Like class size, the full-time / part-time issue is generally treated as a given. U.S. News & World Report uses both measures in its methodology to rank colleges, and they're among the few such ranking measures that don't cause college leaders to erupt in fits of consternation. Yet the AAUP report contains no references to research proving the underlying premise of full-time professorial superiority -- because, I'm guessing, it more or less doesn't exist. A few studies have examined full-time / part-time status and completion rates, but when it comes to actual student learning -- basically nothing. This is not a standard of evidence that university professors would tolerate in their own research.
In other words, when it comes to the central enterprise of higher education -- teaching students -- we don't know if the reigning professional qualification system works, or how many professors we actually need. And this is true for all kinds of other basic elements of college teaching and learning -- curricula, training, pedagogy, and much more.
It's not like these questions couldn't be answered. Millions of students attend college every day in classes that vary greatly in size -- much more so than in K–12 schools, where the issue has been studied exhaustively. Many college courses are taught by full-time professors, many not. It wouldn't take the world's greatest social scientist to design an experiment to get at what those differences mean.
To be sure, there are sui generis courses at every college that wouldn't lend themselves to such analysis because they combine the unique perspective of a particular scholar with his or her subject expertise and time-honed approach to teaching. But that's often not the case. Transcript studies indicate that 20 percent of all course credits earned by college graduates come in just 13 introductory courses like English Composition, Calculus, and Introduction to Economics. Seventy-one percent of all college graduates take some version of Psychology 101. Calculus is pretty much calculus wherever you go (or should be). And even in cases where curricula vary between institutions, larger universities routinely teach many sections of the same course every semester. Why doesn't anyone ever study how much learning varies between them, and why?
In part, because that would require some kind of objective measure of how much students learn in different sections and/or institutions, i.e. some kind of standardized test. Such assessments are often considered anathema to what the AAUP somewhat breathlessly terms the "sacred principle" of academic freedom. But I don't really understand why. There's a great deal of logic behind academic freedom for scholarship. When scholars are bound by conventional thinking and political pressure, their research can suffer immensely. But it's not clear why giving professors license to say and think what they like necessarily translates into an absolute license to teach how they like, at a level of quality that's more or less up to them. Academic freedom shouldn't immunize anyone from scrutiny of how much their students learn between the beginning of the semester and the end. Yes, there are student evaluations, which mean more than they once did. But they are poor substitutes for objective measures of student achievement. Basing education research and instructor performance assessment entirely on student evaluations is like basing clinical drug trials entirely on patient reports of how they feel.
And there's one type of class that's certainly amenable to standardized testing: developmental courses. If colleges choose of their own volition to give all incoming students a test to determine whether they need remediation, it seems reasonable to give developmental students a similar test once they've completed the course, and use evidence of (what one hopes is) increased learning to judge which kinds of developmental approaches -- and instructors -- are best.
The underlying cause of this remarkable information deficit is pretty clear: Colleges and universities don't really need to know -- or want to know -- the answers to these questions. They don't need to know because student learning results are peripheral to the core incentive system in which they operate. University success is measured in terms of dollars raised, high-achieving students recruited, and prestigious scholarship produced—period. Even less selective institutions are highly influenced by these values. They may not have the research mission of the academic giants, but they share organizational models, practices, and ways of thinking, all of which cut against rigorous self-evaluation of teaching and learning.
And they don't want to know because, well, what then? I'll wager dollars to donuts that any well-designed study of the relative effectiveness of full-time vs. part-time instructors would find far more variation within those populations than between them. That would have profound implications for the way college teaching is supervised and evaluated -- like, for example, that it should be supervised and evaluated in a meaningful way. And what if someone actually proved that low-paid part-time professors and large, highly profitable freshman lecture courses had a demonstrable negative impact on learning? The money to support financially hemorrhaging sports programs, rapidly expanding administrative budgets, and light teaching loads for senior faculty doesn't exactly grow on trees.
In fairness, there are some positive signs. The popularity of surveys like the National Survey of Student Engagement, the Community College Survey of Student Engagement, and the Collegiate Learning Assessment indicate a desire for self-study (as long, in the case of most four-year institutions, the results are safely hidden from public view).
But the overall lack of needed information about the core educational mission remains profound. The American higher education system is, we are often reminded, unmatched in diversity. It contains thousands of institutions and hundreds of thousands of college instructors, each granted significant autonomy to teach in different ways. Yet instead of learning from these differences we often ignore them. In our colleges and universities we've constructed the greatest engine of inquiry the world has ever known. That penetrating gaze is too infrequently directed inward, to know itself.
An article here last year, "Sophie's Choice for 2-Year Colleges," may create the mistaken impression that the crisis in our educational system can be managed and resolved through a bitter regimen of "tough choices." The article details the decision of San Joaquin Delta College, facing deep budget cuts, to preserve some programs by eliminating others, particularly those for students needing remedial instruction or starting to learn English. The thinking behind that decision reflects important issues, but also replicates false assumptions, and in so doing draws invisible boundaries around a discussion that deserves and desperately needs more imagination and perspective.
One unexamined assumption of many higher education leaders seems to be that we, not just community colleges but an entire society that purports to believe that education is essential to democracy, are earnestly doing our best to help "the unfortunates" but, heartbreakingly, are finding ourselves overwhelmed by how unfortunate they really are. Thus, the logic goes, we’re "left with no choice" but to retreat like a lifeboat captain tearfully paddling away from the Titanic.
Although this is a consoling thought, the reality is the opposite. Two-year colleges are being overwhelmed precisely because as a society, we were never fully committed to remedial students (or to democracy, or to equality) in the first place. Many young people from low-income communities who have been criminalized and imprisoned are told they are ineligible for federal loans at precisely the moment when they are taking steps to turn their lives around. And here in New York, many of the working poor who attempt to obtain a college education are met with a cruel Catch-22: denied even part-time aid funds unless they first meet an eligibility standard by going to college full-time for two consecutive semesters. To do this, of course, they have to take time off from their jobs, which many of the working poor will find it daunting to do.
Unfortunately such hypocrisy is common to government and even to college leaders, who often fail to provide two-year colleges and programs with needed support while simultaneously claiming to recognize the value of a strong education system. Late last year, New York’s governor proposed $53 million in cuts to the City University of New York, just a year after an already massive round of cuts that included a 15 percent tuition increase.
Although close to half of our nation’s college students (and larger shares of minority and low-income student) are enrolled at two-year colleges, these institutions receive but 20 percent of the funding received by 4-year colleges and a mere 3 percent of private college donations. This bewildering disparity cannot be explained away by advanced facilities for 4-year college "research" that cost more than 2-year college "classroom instruction." At our colleges and at most community colleges, even the relatively inexpensive instruction of basic writing skills is hobbled by class sizes far in excess of National Council of Teachers of English guidelines.
In a study by the Two-Year College English Association, 100 percent of community colleges surveyed were in violation of class size guidelines established by the Conference on College Composition and Communication. At a meeting of the latter body to discuss these findings, one audience member reported that at her institution, faculty attempts to persuade administrators to remedy the problem were not taken seriously: "You could have gotten laughter out of the room." Even more disturbingly, nearly 50 percent of the survey respondents revealed that class sizes, which the CCCC would want to be significantly lower for developmental courses to ensure that the least prepared students have correspondingly more time with their professors, were not merely in excess of this lower cap but actually considerably higher for remedial courses than for first-year ones.
Of course, community college presidents see the problems before them: they’ve told President Obama that their facilities are “bulging with students” and that they "have to build capacity." But by implying that the only alternative to cutting programs is expanding class sizes or finding other ways to leverage "economies of scale," college leaders participate in and thereby legitimize a zero-sum argument with dangerously limited social vision.
And the depth of our nation’s complacency over the fact that those who need the most receive the least is also clear in the fact that some students are reaching college age with third-grade skill levels. How is it possible that in the United States, this supposed beacon of hope around the world, students can reach the age of 18 and still have only third grade skills? That's not just about community colleges being overwhelmed; it's about our nation’s collective failure to commit to the principle of equality or even "equal opportunity" at every level of education. This lack of commitment is evident in the fact that the K-12 systems are just as overburdened and underinvested as the two-year schools.
Old solutions that deflect attention to pedagogy rather than policy have not taken care of these old problems. For many students in under-served public schools, the skills and knowledge they need and deserve have taken a backseat to endless drilling for state accountability tests that have become a curriculum in and of themselves. Such a curriculum concentrates on the most rudimentary and mechanically quantifiable facts and formulas, tying short spurts of “learning” to cycles of test-preparation and test-taking. This short-sighted approach to accountability, to the consternation of teachers charged with raising pass rates on these tests, undercuts the long-term and extensive preparation that students need to thrive in college, career, and life beyond the testing site.
The scope and tenor of the discussion at San Joaquin Delta and in so many discussions about community colleges are also limited by another false assumption: that "immigrants" are the populations most in need. The invisible and tragic irony is that masses of two-year college students who are insufficiently practiced in basic skills are not even immigrants. They are the ones some community college faculty worry about the most and they are the ones who would be hurt the most by cutting remediation because they don't speak any other language and they don't have any other country to go to. The tendency to focus on romantic, nationalism-affirming stories of “immigrant hardships” instead of native-born, underserved students who have spent their entire lives being disappointed by the system obscures half of the American story, and this convenient perspective is symptomatic of a deep, ideologically elaborate denial of race and class inequality in this country.
Native-born or not, it’s hard to imagine that such students feel very respected or valued when the president of San Joaquin Delta College says "Your heart goes out to them" while cutting courses and whole programs. Similarly, you might be surprised how little solace community college faculty and staff take from being told, in the words of Thomas Bailey of Columbia University, that “‘if you get someone from 5th grade to 10th grade, even if that's not college level, that's still a useful function for the college to perform." When you are eyewitness to a building on fire, you’re not waiting to be congratulated for helping the residents make it halfway down the stairs – all you care about is getting the authorities to listen to you when you tell them that people’s lives are in danger.
Those of us who teach in the community colleges can't deal alone with the scandal of racism, classism, and other deepening social inequalities in this country, but given our place in this conversation, it is incumbent on us to sound the alarm. We need help. Our whole educational system needs more investment, not less.
Though too few and too far between, glimmers of hope can of course be found if you have the luxury of looking for them. For example, the Gates Foundation explicitly puts financial aid and other financial incentives such as scholarships at the center of its four-part plan to focus attention and resources on community colleges. Even President Obama, despite his dispiriting acquiescence to the testing industry, sounds like he understands how central the problem of capital is to the tragedy of low retention. Per the Inside Higher Ed article linked above, "When students drop out, he said, ‘That’s not just a waste of a valuable resource, that’s a tragedy for these students. Oftentimes they’ve taken out debt and they don’t get the degree, but they still have to pay back the debt.' "
But sometimes bold-sounding enterprises can incorporate elements that amount to simply evading the problem. For example, CUNY’s systemwide bid to improve retention has led to an ambitious proposal to build from the ground up a new community college that considers itself open-access but will require all students to attend full time. Sounds fair, doesn’t it? The problem is, the “full-time only” rule is, for many of our students, already a de facto requirement, thanks to the Catch-22 of the “part-time” state aid award that one can only “earn” by going to school full-time for two consecutive semesters first. How many students are already hit hard by this draconian requirement, and would therefore be ignored by CUNY’s proposal? The Community College Survey of Student Engagement reports that more than half of community college students “attend part time so that they can tend to pressing work or family obligations." This inconvenient fact leads the survey’s director, Kay McClenney, to wonder aloud if CUNY’s new project is “going to serve a small portion of students who are going to succeed anyway." The president of the American Association of Community Colleges echoes this concern, saying that such institutions "tend to succeed because they target students who are mostly not at risk […] catering to only those students who stand a better chance of success in the first place."
Action alone is not enough: it must be accompanied by frank, painful discussion of the unspoken and incorrect assumptions about the nature and real extent of the problem. In The New York Times, Paul Krugman bluntly reminded us late last year that "America, which used to take the lead in educating its young, has been gradually falling behind other advanced countries." If we ourselves continue to ignore and disrespect the emergency of our educational system, then we ought not profess astonishment when students show up in our nation's college classrooms and job fairs and voting booths lacking basic skills. If they don't have basic skills, then of course they will not understand complex college-level concepts – like evolution, for example. If they can’t understand evolution, then how exactly do we expect them to understand global warming, or health care reform, or how to get out of the economic crisis or the war in Afghanistan? Let’s not ignore the alarms or allow ourselves to be soothed by those who are simply changing the subject or repackaging old, failed solutions. We owe our students and ourselves more than talk about “tough choices” that change nothing because they end up being the toughest on those whom our society has left weakest.
Susan Naomi Bernstein, Sarah Durand and Sigmund Shen
Susan Naomi Bernstein, Sarah Durand and Sigmund Shen teach at LaGuardia Community College. The following individuals also contributed to this piece and its ideas:
Mitchell F. Balish, Miami University Lenore Beaky, LaGuardia Community College Nancy Berke, LaGuardia Community College Evelyn Burg, LaGuardia Community College Lorraine Cohen, LaGuardia Community College Timothy Coogan, LaGuardia Community College Gita DasBender, Seton Hall University Junot DÃaz, Massachusetts Institute of Technology Francine Egger-Sider, LaGuardia Community College Kristen Gallagher, LaGuardia Community College Joan Greenbaum, LaGuardia Community College Rosann Ippolito, LaGuardia Community College Heidi Johnsen, LaGuardia Community College Peter Kwong, Hunter College Daniel Lynch, LaGuardia Community College Sally Mettler, LaGuardia Community College Karen Miller, LaGuardia Community College Keith Miller, New York City Department of Education Terry Parker, LaGuardia Community College LaRose T. Parris, LaGuardia Community College Maria Rexhammar, Hunter College (student) Dawn Saliba, Binghamton University (student) Abigail Schoneboom, LaGuardia Community College George D. Sussman, LaGuardia Community College Laura A. Tanenbaum, LaGuardia Community College Lynne Teplin, LaGuardia Community College Phyllis van Slyck, LaGuardia Community College Celestine Woo, State University of New York Empire State College
Submitted by Roy Flores on February 17, 2011 - 3:00am
Each year, Pima Community College, a diverse six-campus system in Tucson, attempts to get thousands of underprepared students ready for college coursework. In 2009, 89 percent our students who were new to higher education and were recent high school graduates were not ready for college mathematics, as measured by assessment testing. Astonishingly, 35 percent did not read at a college-entry level; 51 percent did not meet college standards in writing. Pima spends more than $20 million a year on "developmental education," which the layperson would define as remedial education. These realities, and the ongoing economic crisis in Arizona, have led us to ask hard questions about how we can best serve our students.
Pima’s developmental education outcomes are no worse than those at many other community colleges around the nation:
Of those students taking remedial mathematics in fall 2004, only 4.1 percent who began in the lowest of three remedial classes had graduated with an associate degree by fall 2009.
Using another measure of outcomes, for students taking remedial reading in fall 2004, of those who began in the lowest of three levels, 2.2 percent had taken a college-level reading course, and 6.1 percent had taken any college-level course by fall 2006.
In summary, students testing into the lowest levels of developmental education have virtually no chance of ever moving beyond remedial work and achieving their educational goals. For those students and their families, developmental education is expensive and demoralizing.
So, armed with the knowledge that for underprepared students traditional approaches to course creation and delivery do not work, we are looking at the topic in a different way. "Strengthening Developmental Education" is a central initiative of our 2011-13 college plan,. We intend to examine promising developmental education approaches at other community colleges, improve assessment and testing, enhance professional development for faculty and staff, and pilot varied methods of developmental education delivery. We will determine which approaches can serve many students, and tailor those approaches to students who research shows will be able to benefit the most. In short, we are planning an overhaul of developmental education.
However, our plan also embodies the realization that we cannot help every student. Thus, Pima is redefining its open-door admissions policy. Over our 40-year history, PCC has been accessible to almost anyone, and more than 750,000 people have come through our doors to achieve their dreams. Arizona law mandates that admission be granted to any person who “demonstrates evidence of potential success in the community college.” But, as our outcomes data show, some people who come here simply have not received the education needed to succeed in college. To admit those men and women – some of whom have the equivalent of no better than a middle-school education -- and accept their tuition payment, knowing that they have virtually no chance of becoming college-ready, is callous at best.
The college thus intends to amend its open admissions policy for degree- and certificate-seeking students 18 and older to require a high school diploma or its equivalent, and to require appropriate scores on assessment tests. Only students who score at the very bottom will not be admitted. Pima will refer students who do not meet acceptance standards and who otherwise qualify to resources that can help them overcome academic deficiencies, such as our adult education program, should it continue to receive funding.
The college would be obligated to make this change regardless of the economic climate, but given Arizona’s severe financial problems, the need for a new direction for developmental education is even more urgent. Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, facing billion-dollar deficits over the next several years, has proposed a 56 percent reduction in state appropriations to our college for the 2012 fiscal year. It is an unprecedentedly harsh cut, even in the context of the 30 percent reduction in state aid that Pima has absorbed over the past two years. The state is sending us an explicit message. You must drastically reduce programs and services.
The governor’s slashing of funding to Pima, and to other community colleges in the state, comes amid ongoing economic hardship in southern Arizona. In Pima County, unemployment stubbornly remains higher than 9 percent, and many who have lost their jobs are coming to the college to restart their careers; full-time student equivalent enrollment rose by 13 percent in 2009 over 2008. Moreover, area real estate prices have plummeted, and new construction is virtually nonexistent, diminishing our college's property tax revenue. These realities are creating a hard choice for us: fund developmental education programs with a poor track record, or successful occupational education and other programs aimed at those most desperate for our help. Asked to do more with less, Pima understands that it can no longer be all things to all people. We recognize that, first and foremost, we are a college. In establishing the college, the people of Pima County sought to create an institution of higher learning where students respect the value of education. Responsible governance demands that we direct our limited resources where our constituents have directed us, and where our money will have the best chance of doing some good.
Altering our open-door admissions policy is best for students and the community. Moreover, we believe that establishing new admission standards will spur an honest examination of education in Pima County. As part of its 2011-13 plan, Pima intends to organize town halls and other events to get the community conversation started. We hope to bring together educators, employers, leaders of community- and faith-based organizations, parents and students to talk about college readiness and the impact on the region of an undereducated citizenry. The troubling truths forcing Pima Community College’s redefinition of admission standards must be discussed honestly by all stakeholders. Education remains the key for the state to return to prosperity. Arizona must increase the number of residents with postsecondary certificates and degrees. As the state works toward this goal, everyone can have a voice. There is plenty of work to do.
Roy Flores is chancellor of Pima Community College.