Like ancient Rome in its waning days, American higher education is corrupted by excess. According to a now infamous 2003 New York Times article, for instance, Ohio State University boasts a massive facility its peers call the "Taj Mahal," which features kayaking, canoeing, a ropes course and massages. Washington State University possesses the largest Jacuzzi on the West Coast, a tub that can accommodate up to 53 people. And that just scratches the surface. One reads regularly about tens of millions spent to install new football stadium skyboxes; about gourmet cafeteria cuisine; and even about student rioting to celebrate athletic success.
Examine for-profit colleges, however, and one observes quite the opposite. There are no water parks, skyboxes or Jacuzzis. Typical is a campus of DeVry University, as described by the Berkeley professor David Kirp in Shakespeare, Einstein, and the Bottom Line: The "campus off Highway 88 in Fremont, California ... looks like one of the high-tech companies in the area. It's low-slung and functional, built with an eye to use, not aesthetics. With its long corridors of classrooms and labs ... it could be a community college, though without the gym or student center."
"Market forces" are often blamed for indulgences at traditional universities, as they are in the recent Futures Project report "Correcting Course," and for exploitation of students at for-profit colleges. But how can the market produce such contrasting corruptions: excessive opulence in presumably well-intentioned nonprofit universities, and dirty dealings at essentially amenity-free for-profit institutions? Moreover, how can for-profit schools' opponents continue to smear for-profit institutions as threats to students, as Rep. Maxine Waters (D-CA) did in recent Congressional testimony, while traditional colleges are typically portrayed as ivy-walled treasures dedicated only to seeking truth?
To a large extent, the answer, at least to the second question, is a failure to understand the practical difference between "for-profit" and "nonprofit."
First, look at nonprofit institutions. "Universities share one characteristic with compulsive gamblers and exiled royalty," writes the former Harvard University president Derek Bok in Universities in the Marketplace, "there is never enough money to satisfy their desires." Bok's point is unmistakable: Universities always work to maximize their revenue. Why? Because, like most of us, they always have things they'd do if only they had more money. William F. Massy, a former Stanford vice president, calls it a drive for "value fulfillment" in his book Honoring the Trust, further explaining that "because value fulfillment is open ended, no respectable university will run out of worthwhile things to do."
That makes sense. The term "value fulfillment," however, suggests that universities use additional money only for altruistic ends, while the reality is that nonprofit universities can be driven as much by greed as anyone else. For instance, as the Ohio University economist Richard Vedder explains in Going Broke by Degree: Why College Costs Too Much, university presidents often indulgently use new revenue "to fund large salary increases, add staff members ... build more luxurious facilities, and expand research projects."
For-profit institutions also try to maximize their revenue. But in addition to maximizing revenue, for-profit schools want to minimize their expenses. That's why they don't have any football stadiums or massage therapists. Simply, maximum revenue and minimum expenses yield maximum profit.
That does not mean, as their critics suggest, that they will necessarily exploit their students. The only way for-profit schools can maximize their revenue, after all, is by bringing in as many students as possible. They can't, therefore, reduce expenses to any point below which they can provide the education students are willing to pay for. Kirp's discussion of DeVry helps confirm this. "Instruction is more intense than in most community colleges and regional universities ... and it is often better as well." Moreover, "graduates do get hired ... DeVry's proudest boast has been that within six months of graduation, 95 percent of graduates are working, and not behind the McDonald's counter but at jobs with a future."
Are for-profit schools perfect? Hardly. As their critics regularly point out, for-profit education's past is checkered by scams and frauds. And it still has troublemakers. In January, "60 Minutes" aired an expose on questionable practices at Career Education Corporation, which runs 82 for-profit campuses. But general hostility to for-profit education, its past, and the ongoing scrutiny it receives as a result force for-profit schools to police themselves.
As Nicholas J. Glakas, president of the Career College Association, told members of the U.S. House Committee on Education and the Workforce last week, his association's members are "committed to and focused on compliance" with the law. "We have to be because of our past." He also explained, though, that accusations against for-profit schools are often sensationalized, noting that the "60 Minutes" piece focused on only "three students out of 100,000" at "2 of 82 branch campuses" of just "one publicly traded company."
So when scams occur in for-profit schools, or traditional colleges purchase ever-grander amenities, has the market failed? No, because a truly free market hasn't even been allowed to exist.
According to the College Board, almost 60 percent of students in both nonprofit and for-profit colleges receive financial aid, primarily from the federal government. In addition, according to the U.S. Department of Education, more than a third of public universities' revenue comes from state governments rather than consumers. Supply and demand have been crippled. Because a large percentage of their funds come from state governments, public schools aren't bound by students' demands. Moreover, most students use other people's money -- in the form of taxpayer-funded grants and loans -- when deciding what they are willing to pay for at any school.
The solution to the problem is to let the market work, and with the federal Higher Education Act due to be reauthorized this year, a window of opportunity is starting to open.
Ideally, the federal government should cease providing grants and subsidized loans to students, and states should no longer furnish block appropriations for their colleges. Such solutions, though, are likely politically impossible.
What would be politically feasible, however, would be for states to do something like what Colorado will begin doing next fall. Rather than sending funds directly to its colleges and universities, the state will send money to students, who can either take it to the state school of their choice, or use half of it at one of three approved private schools.
The federal government, for its part, should phase out all grant and loan programs for wealthy and middle-class students. For the poor, it could offer loans that students wouldn't have to start paying back until after they graduate and begin earning a college graduate's salary, making them ultimately responsible for paying for their own education, but allowing them to do so when they've begun to reap its benefits.
Making all consumers pay their own way through college would infuse effective demand into college financing. Suddenly, the frills of traditional higher education, or taking a chance on potentially shady for-profit schools, would look a lot less enticing. The market would finally get to work.
Neal McCluskey is an education policy analyst at the Cato Institute's Center for Educational Freedom.
In my work as Oregon’s college evaluator, I am often asked why state approval is not "as good as accreditation" or "equivalent to accreditation."
We may be about to find out, to our sorrow: One version of the Higher Education Act reauthorization legislation moving through Congress quietly allows states to become federally recognized accreditors. A senior official in the U.S. Department of Education has confirmed that one part of the legislation would eliminate an existing provision that says state agencies can be recognized as federally approved accreditors only if they were recognized by the education secretary before October 1, 1991. Only one, the New York State Board of Regents, met the grandfather provision. By striking the grandfather provision, any state agency would be eligible to seek recognition.
If such a provision becomes law, we will see exactly why some states refuse to recognize degrees issued under the authority of other states: It is quite possible to be state-approved and a low-quality degree provider.Which states allow poor institutions to be approved to issue degrees?
Here are the Seven Sorry Sisters: Alabama (split authority for assessing and recognizing degrees), Hawaii (poor standards, excellent enforcement of what little there is), Idaho (poor standards, split authority), Mississippi (poor standards, political interference), Missouri (poor standards, political interference), New Mexico (grandfathered some mystery degree suppliers) and of course the now infamous Wyoming (poor standards, political indifference or active support of poor schools).
Wyoming considers degree mills and other bottom-feeders to be a source of economic development. You’d think that oil prices would relieve their need to support degree mills. Even the Japanese television network NHK sent a crew to Wyoming to warn Japanese citizens about the cluster of supposed colleges there: Does the state care so little for foreign trade it does not care that 10 percent of the households in Japan saw that program? You’d think that Vice President Dick Cheney and U.S. Senator Mike Enzi, who now chairs the committee responsible for education, would care more about the appalling reputation of their home state. Where is Alan Simpson when we need him?
In the world of college evaluation, these seven state names ring out like George Carlin’s “Seven Words You Can’t Say On Television,” and those of us responsible for safeguarding the quality of degrees in other states often apply some of those words to so-called “colleges” approved to operate in these states -- so-called “colleges” like Breyer State University in Alabama and Idaho (which “State” does this for-profit represent, anyway?).
There are some dishonorable mentions, too, such as California, where the standards are not bad but enforcement has been lax and the process awash in well-heeled lobbyists. The new director of California’s approval agency, Barbara Ward, seems much tougher than recent placeholders -- trust someone trained as a nurse to carry a big needle and be prepared to use it.
The obverse of this coin is that in some states, regulatory standards are higher than the standards of national accreditors, as Oregon discovered when we came across an accredited college with two senior officials sporting fake degrees. The national accreditors, the Accrediting Commission of Career Schools and Colleges of Technology and the Accrediting Bureau of Health Education Schools, had not noticed this until we mentioned it to them. What exactly do they review, if they completely ignore people’s qualifications?
The notion that membership in an accrediting association is voluntary is, of course, one of the polite fictions that higher education officials sometimes say out loud when they are too far from most listeners to inspire a round of laughter. In fact, losing accreditation is not far removed from a death sentence for almost any college, because without accreditation, students are not eligible for federal financial aid, and without such aid, most of them can’t go to school – at least to that school.
For this reason, if Congress ever decoupled aid eligibility from accreditation by one of the existing accreditors -- for example, by allowing state governments to become accreditors -- the “national” accreditors of schools would dry up and blow away by dawn the next day: They serve no purpose except as trade associations and milking machines for federal aid dollars.
The Libertarian View of Degrees
One view of the purpose and function of college degrees suggests that the government need not concern itself with whether a degree is issued by an accredited college or even a real college. This might be considered the classic libertarian view: that employers, clients and other people should come to their own conclusions, based on their own research, regarding whether a credential called a “degree” by the entity that issued (or printed) it is appropriate for a particular job or need. This view is universally propounded by the owners of degree mills, who become wealthy by selling degrees to people who think they can get away with using them this way.
The libertarian view is tempting, but presupposes a capacity and inclination to evaluate that most employers have always lacked and always will, while of course an average private citizen is even more removed from that ability and inclination. Who will actually do the research that the hypothetical perfect employer should do?
Consider the complexities of the U.S. accreditation system, the proliferation of fake accreditors complete with names nearly identical to real ones (there were at least two fake DETCs, imitating the real Distance Education Training Council, in 2005), phone numbers, carefully falsified lists of approved schools, Web sites showing buildings far from where the owners had ever been and other accoutrements.
To the morass of bogus accreditors in the U.S., add the world. Hundreds of jurisdictions, mostly not English-speaking, issuing a bewildering array of credentials under regimens not quite like American postsecondary education. Add a layer of corruption in some states and countries, a genial indifference in others, a nearly universal lack of enforcement capacity and you have a recipe for academic goulash that even governments are hard-pressed to render into proper compartments. In the past 10 days my office has worked with national officials in England, Sweden, The Netherlands, Canada and Australia to sort out suspicious degree validations. Very few businesses and almost no private citizens are capable of doing this without an exhausting allocation of time and resources. It does not and will not happen.
Should state governments accredit colleges?
State governments, not accreditors or the federal government, are the best potential guarantors of degree program quality at all but the major research universities, but only if they take their duty seriously, set and maintain high standards and keep politicians from yanking on the strings of approval as happens routinely in some states. Today, fewer than a dozen states have truly solid standards, most are mediocre and several, including the Seven Sorry Sisters, are quite poor.
If Congress is serious about allowing states to become accreditors, there must be a reason. I can think of at least two reasons. First, such an action would kill off many existing accreditors without having their work added to the U.S. Department of Education (which no one in their right mind, Democrat, Republican or Martian, wants to enlarge). This would count as devolutionary federalism (acceptable to both parties under the right conditions).
The second reason is the one that is never spoken aloud. There will be enormous, irresistible pressure on many state governments to accredit small religious schools that could never get accredited even by specialized religious accreditors today. The potential bounty in financial aid dollars for all of those church-basement colleges is incalculable.
Remember that another provision of the same proposed statute would prohibit even regionally accredited universities from screening out transfer course work based on the nature of the accreditor. Follow the bread crumbs and the net result will be a huge bubble of low-end courses being hosed through the academic pipeline, with the current Congressional leadership cranking the nozzle.
The possibility of such an outcome should provide impetus to the discussions that have gone on for many years regarding the need for some uniformity (presumably at a level higher than that of the Seven Sorry Sister states) in standards for state approval of colleges. We need a “model code” for state college approvals, something that leading states can agree to (with interstate recognition of degrees) and that states with poor standards can aspire to.
The universe of 50 state laws, some excellent and some abysmal, allows poor schools to venue-shop and then claim that their state approval makes them good schools when they are little better than diploma mills. We must do better.
Should states accredit colleges? Only if they can do it well. Today’s record is mixed, and Congress should not give states the power to accredit (or allow the Department of Education to give states the power) until they have proven that their own houses are in order. That day has not yet come.
Alan L. Contreras
Alan L. Contreras has been administrator of the Oregon Office of Degree Authorization, a unit of the Oregon Student Assistance Commission, since 1999. His views do not necessarily represent those of the commission.
My nephew always wanted to design things, and as a teenager he seemed to be on the fast track to a good engineering degree. Took a community college calculus course while in high school. Worked for a computer aided design (CAD) company part-time. Got admitted to a top-notch engineering program.
In the middle of his first year, however, he dropped out. Now he’s enrolled in a technical institute, learning CAD skills and only CAD skills. He’s very happy, apart from the fact that he’s had to move back home.
Where did I, his college-professor aunt, go wrong? Or did I?
What upsets me is that he doesn’t see any inherent value in a liberal education, in a college degree rather than a tech-school certificate. But I also wonder whether mine isn’t a narrow attitude -- after all, the kid wants to do CAD, so why should he have to get a degree? What doors would a bachelor’s degree open for him? He knows what kind of work he likes to do, and he can start earning money at it a lot faster with a certificate in “Drafting/CAD.”
I checked out the Web site for the school he’s chosen. The school’s URL is a .com, not a .edu. It boasts that "Our short term curriculums focus only on courses directly related to your field of study, without any fluff. These classes are taught by instructors that have professional experience in the industry."
Besides bringing out my usually-held-in-check pedantry (“the plural of curriculum is not curriculums, dammit” and “instructors WHO, not instructors that!”), the Web site rankles because it’s pitching itself directly against the idea of a liberal arts education or “fluff.”
I worry that I’m being a snob. Why shouldn’t he study a job skill instead of spending his time reading books he doesn’t care about? Why not go to class at a place that teaches auto body repair instead of philosophy? I’m sure they’ll get him a job when he graduates, which is more than I do for my students.
My nephew is a working-class kid. Neither of his parents went to college, and most of his friends won’t. Still, I had assumed that because he got good grades in high school and wanted to be an engineer he’d want to get a degree. The problem is, I think, no one ever told him what a degree was. No one ever talked to him about the difference between higher education and job training. No one ever said why he should want to read books he wouldn’t choose on his own or take a class in chemistry or go to a lecture by a political scientist. And now he probably will never do any of those things.
As a professor I have to mourn that choice. Yet as an aunt who wants to see her nephew happy, I have to agree with my brother that the tech school is probably an OK place for my nephew right now. I don’t mean to imply that he’s doomed. I just worry that he’s severely limited his future choices.
I wonder how it is that higher education is still, in the 21st century, failing to get its message across. Failing to explain the difference between a college degree and a tech-school certificate to the high school student whose parents never went to college. Failing to convince the engineering-school freshman that he should bother to stick around and learn the things that don’t seem immediately applicable to his future career. We have not convinced legislatures that the state has a stake in higher education, that a citizenry trained in critical thinking, writing, and research skills beyond the high-school level is citizenry better able to make informed decisions.
Both my nephew and I want him to be happy in his work. But he sees short-term, where I am trained to see long-term. He wants a job, very soon, in the computer work he has come to like in his part-time job. His model is his father, a union worker who will spend his whole adult life doing the same well paid work with good union benefits. But such jobs are fast becoming extinct in the United States, and the jobs that are replacing them, especially information-industry jobs, are nowhere near as secure.
As the sister who didn’t start building up her retirement fund until 15 years after her younger brother (all those years of college and graduate school), I may have limited credibility here. Nevertheless, I believe that a degree would offer my nephew more options in the long run, more opportunities years down the line, in an age in which most people change careers multiple times in their working lives.
The problem is that I cannot be convincing in a larger culture that does not actively promote the value of higher education. Cushioned in a liberal arts college whose mostly middle- and upper-class students enroll (presumably) because they already understand that there’s value in an education that is not job training, I sometimes forget that a college degree can still be a tough sell. That’s why my nephew’s rejection of college came as such a jolt. But it’s reminded me that American anti-intellectualism can have personal consequences. It’s reminded me that I can’t assume the product I’m selling will advertise itself. If I believe that a better educated citizenry would make for a better state or country or world, then I’d better start writing letters and contacting legislators and talking to kids. Guess I should have started with my nephew.
Paula Krebs is professor of English at Wheaton College, in Massachusetts.
Higher education, like the human species itself, is the product of evolutionary forces that produce structures -- the DNA if you will -- that enable one variant to thrive and cause another to falter.
The life form known as higher education was hatched in a monastic cocoon in the 10th century. From this beginning, higher education institutions took shape as an evolving species, changing form and mission in response to external forces. Familiar milestones on this evolutionary journey include secularization, development of academic disciplines, evolution of administrative structures, growth of the research university, and the concepts of academic freedom and tenure.
With the dawn of the Knowledge Age, the evolution of higher education has drastically accelerated so that the pace of change is now measured in years, not centuries. Higher education today is a global commodity with all the competition and product diversification that entails, including the splitting of the production from the distribution of knowledge. This is much like the movie industry, where a few companies make movies and many companies distribute them in theaters, on television, and on DVDs.
Research I universities that produce new knowledge thrive in this new environment, but they are now dependent upon strong financial links with the economic agendas of companies and countries. They are no longer the sole citadels for the production of new knowledge, but rather just one node on a global network of corporate and national R&D sites.
The transformation of Higher Education Life Forms on the distribution side of knowledge is even more dramatic, evolving a new species that concentrates simply on distribution of currently available knowledge.
This new species features a small core of knowledge engineers who wrap courses into a degree to be distributed in cookie-cutter institutions and delivered by working professionals, not academics. There is no tenured faculty, no academic processes; the sole focus is on bottom-line economic results. These 21st century institutions are not burdened with esoteric pursuits of knowledge; rather, they focus on professional degrees for adults that have a fairly clear market value for a given career path.
The exemplars of this new species are the for-profit universities, which are cutting their teeth on the weakness of the 20th century universities. Though new at the game, in a few years they will be capable of hunting with lethal success. This new species is market-driven. Its key survival mechanism is the ability to rapidly evolve to new environments and to position in the market. Since they do not carry tenured faculty, they can rapidly jettison disciplines of study that do not penetrate market. Since they do not have academic processes, they can rapidly bring to market programs that can capture market share.
Certainly, not all for-profit providers have the core capabilities to compete long term in the market. Some emerge quickly and as quickly become extinct, but others are proving quite adept at drawing strength from this globally competitive market.
As mass, longevity and a voracious need for large quantities of prey (resources) proved lethal to the dinosaurs in the stark environments created by global darkening, so the universities of the early 20th century may face serious thinning or perhaps even extinction in the new globally competitive environment of higher education. Universities rooted in the early 20th century are intrinsically inefficient in today's environment of market valuation and brand identity. Given the current internal structure of tenure and faculty governance, these universities lack the capability to respond to market forces in a timely fashion -- to close out product lines no longer playing in the market and rapidly bring new and more efficient product to market.
Still, these once elegant life forms persevere, but for reasons having nothing to do with innate capability to embrace change. Instead, at the undergraduate level it is the instinctual and perhaps irrational desire of many parents to see their children prosper in a traditional liberal arts environment, and so their willingness to spend inordinate amounts of money for education. At the graduate level, the "brand name" is the driver. The reputation of leading institutions, established in an era before global market competition, is based on a footing much different from that used today to obtain market position, but it still works to sustain the life form, at least among a few elite universities.
In addition, traditional universities have benefited from some serious slack in the evolutionary rope. The Industrial Age required a few knowledge workers and a lot of folks doing heavy lifting, whereas the Knowledge Age requires vast numbers of educated workers. Almost overnight, this has led to a massive spike in global demand for education, with motivated consumers increasing perhaps 100-fold. What was the privilege of a few has become the expectation of all.
But global supply falls far short of meeting demand. With a population of 295 million, the United States has only 15 million active seats in the higher education classroom; China, with a population of 1.2 billion, has 2 million seats available; Brazil, with a population 170 million, has 2.5 million seats available.
This imbalance between supply and demand has creating a robust market for all providers. Suppliers of higher education simply have to dip their nets in the water to catch students. There is not yet the fight-to-the death competition for market share, and inefficient institutions have received a short reprieve from their evolutionary fate. But at some point, as with all markets, a saturation point will be reached, with supply outstripping demand -- perhaps in 5, perhaps in 15 years. When this inversion occurs, those life forms with the required flexibility to quickly adapt to a fiercely competitive environment will survive and the others will fade from memory.
As there is private health care for those who can afford to pay at any price point, so there will continue some form of higher education that will meet the need and the check book of those wealthy enough to afford it. But for most now driven to higher education to meet the requirements of the Knowledge Age, it is value (the ratio of perceived quality over price) that will be the key determinate of what institution they will choose for their tuition dollar. To further stress the current market, state funding is not keeping up with inflation or enrollment growth, forcing higher education institutions to rely more on tuition and donations. Thus higher education is being pushed to stand on its own financial bottom rather than be a subsidized commodity, once again forcing the value proposition.
So what will be demanded of 20th century universities to survive when market supply reaches or exceeds demand? As in every market, those producers that have driven efficiency into their production system and responsiveness into their market positioning have at least a change at surviving. But the challenge is daunting because the 20th century university is trying to play serious catch up in new markets -- adults, women, diversities, the under privileged -- while using the same mentalities that allowed them to attract the 18 to 25 year old male.
As with IBM, which played in the personal computer market, but really lived in the mainframe business market, there is no fire in the belly of 20th century universities for these new markets. These institutions have not changed the way they go about their business to serve these new markets; and if there has been some change, it has been accompanied by the widespread grumbling of the faculty: Why do we have to teach at night? Why do we have to teach at multiple campuses? Why do we have to provide support services in the evening? Why do we have to teach students who aren't educated the way we were? Why do we have to schedule classes so students can maximize their employment opportunities?
Meanwhile, 20th century universities are running average price increases twice the inflation rate and carrying multiple overheads of unproven value to the buying market. Walk into the library of any university today that has ubiquitous connections to the Internet, and you will find the stacks empty of both faculty and students. Is the traditional library a value add or a costly overhead? As with IBM, 20th century universities believe their brand will sustain price increases. "No frill, just degree" competitors are producing product without the high cost of minimalist full-time faculty workloads, large libraries and multiple staff intensive manual processes. As with the personal computer, will the buying market ultimately see any difference between the products except the name on the plastic and the price on the sticker?
What will be the destiny of the current life form we have called the 20th century university? It consumes far too many resources for what it returns to the environment, and though there are vast resources (markets) available, its structures do not let it tap these resources effectively. Its evolutionary tardiness has provided opportunity for a new species to take hold - the profit driven university. As the evolution of the human race has picked up the pace with each passing millennium, a future life form that has little resemblance to current higher education life forms will emerge much sooner than the usual eons it takes for evolution to create the next iteration of life.
The 20th century university is indeed obsolete and faces extinction.
Rev. John P. Minogue
Rev. John P. Minogue is senior lecturer at the Center for Higher Education and Organizational Change at Benedictine University and was president of DePaul University from 1993 to 2004.
The higher education community has been engaged in a vigorous contest with policy makers (both in Congress and in the U.S. Department of Education) over whether universities should use accreditation status to determine decisions about whether to accept the academic credits of transferring students. Arrayed on the side of restrictive regulations are individuals in the U.S. Department of Education, select members of Congress, and the Career College Association, which represents proprietary schools -- all favoring new legislation and/or regulations prohibiting individual credit transfer decisions being determined “solely on the basis of accreditation.”
The institutions targeted by these proposed restrictions are those that deny credit transfer from postsecondary institutions accredited by entities other than the six recognized regional accreditors (e.g., Middle States Association of Colleges and Schools, Western Association of Schools and Colleges).
Opponents of the proposed legislation and regulations argue that the federal government should have no role in determining credit transfer decisions that historically -- and appropriately -- have been the responsibility of the faculty and, in some instances, states and their governing systems. The debate is fueled by heated monologues, anecdotal testimonials and campaign contributions.
At the core of this policy debate is the assumption that the type of accreditation held by the institution where a student was enrolled should not be the controlling influence on the decision to award credit by the receiving institution. I believe that assumption needs to be revisited.
It must be remembered that one of the reasons for the establishment of accreditation by geographical regions was precisely to provide assurance to accepting institutions that the credits earned at the “sending” institution were in fact “earned and comparable.” Within regions virtually all institutions offering academic coursework were known and a network of college officials worked together to make practical and usually fair transfer decisions.
The higher education world has changed dramatically in the past few decades. There has been a massive growth in student enrollments, with an increasing number transferring credits from several institutions. Whereas a quarter of a century ago a typical institution might have 200 credit transfer decisions in a given year, today that same institution, particularly if located where the population is growing, may have 2,000 such decisions. One Midwestern public university with over 12,000 students annually makes nearly 4,000 credit transfer decisions. The staff in admission and registrar offices have experienced only modest growth during this same period. As a result there are far fewer resources available to address credit transfer decisions.
This explosion in student numbers is but part of the problem. Equally problematic is the growth in the number of institutions offering higher education credits. The latest figures (2006) indicate there are 2,713 proprietary institutions eligible for federal Title IV Funds, most marketing themselves as “accredited” with their accrediting agency recognized by the United States Department of Education. Just over half of these are less than two-year institutions, many offering freshmen “equivalent” courses.
Federal student aid policies, particularly those grossly expanding “guaranteed student loan” programs, have significantly contributed to growth in the proprietary sector. Recent changes in educational benefit programs for active duty military personnel have likewise contributed to the creation of institutions seeking to serve military personnel. From 2000 to 2006 the number of proprietary institutions offering baccalaureate degrees increased over 50 percent, from 274 to 429. Our sympathies should flow to registrars and admission offices flooded with transfer requests and at times confronted with transcripts from distant institutions whose names are hardly recognizable.
I would argue the opposite of the position now being made by policy makers and their patrons: Accreditation status, especially that conferred by established regional accrediting groups, should be a key part of the decision-making process by which institutional officials make credit transfer decisions.
Where institutions not regionally accredited are known to registrars it makes eminently good sense that they would make credit decisions based on what they know: articulation agreements, the experience of earlier transfer students, and the Transfer Credit Practices database used by the American Association of Collegiate Registrars and Admissions Officers. But for distant, recently created and even suspect institutions not well known to registrars and admission officers, credit transfer decisions based solely on the absence of regional accreditation status are reasonable and justified. Institutional accreditation by the six regional associations remains the most thorough and reliable of all accrediting efforts. It is also a process historically resistant to political and financial influence.
Does such a position unfairly discriminate against proprietary institutions? Not necessarily. The most recent data available (2004) indicate that 165 of the then 375 four-year proprietary institutions (or 44 percent) had earned regional accreditation. In short, a large number of those proprietary institutions meet the same standards as do independent and public colleges and universities and for them credit transfer would be handled on comparable bases. The remaining proprietary institutions would better serve their students by likewise pursuing and achieving accreditation from one of the six regional accrediting entities, rather than marketing a narrow peer accrediting status (often called “national accreditation”) and seeking governmental intrusion in the accrediting process.
The public interest would be better served if policy makers, rather than berating credit transfer decisions or proposing “federalizing” transcript evaluations, would, instead, support the work of regional accrediting agencies. Moreover, policy makers should question complaining institutions about why they have not earned regional accreditation as have a significant proportion of their proprietary counterparts.
Constantine W. Curris
Constantine W. Curris is president of the American Association of State Colleges and Universities.
Constantine Curris’s Inside Higher Edessay about transfer of credit this week confirms in print what many of us in the national accreditation sector already know: that many institutions base their decisions on credit transfers arbitrarily on the accreditation status of the “sending” college, with complete disregard for the students’ capabilities or the course equivalency of the credits the student seeks to transfer.
What is particularly alarming about the article’s portrayal of the transfer of credit issue is its reliance on history, its almost exclusive emphasis on the burdens imposed on the registrars, and, most importantly, the article’s absolute disregard of the effect that current arbitrary transfer of credit decisions have on the millions of students who attempt to change institutions in order to complete or advance their educations. Should not this national debate focus first on the students and the national education policy goals of helping them complete their educations in the most timely and cost efficient manner, while also ensuring the quality of their educations? If so, then resolving the transfer crisis by prohibiting the arbitrary denial based solely on accreditation makes eminent sense.
While Curris acknowledges the increase in student mobility and in enrollments generally, he seems content to justify current transfer policies on the historical basis for such determinations and on a time in particular when accreditation by “region” served a specific purpose. However, the increasing number of “contemporary” students enrolled -- students who are older, sometimes employed, part-time, and mobile -- is undeniable, and federal education policy and institutions must adapt to and accommodate these students.
Indeed, this fact should not be viewed as a burden, but rather as a responsibility and benefit to this country’s citizens, their educational aspirations and achievements, and to the U.S. economy’s increasing need for continuous educational upgrades. Curris’s article, however, confirms the entrenched and fundamental unwillingness of many institutions to voluntarily adapt their policies and practices on transfer of credit.
Here are the facts: Denial of credits results in the denial of access, as well as in increased education costs when students are forced to pay twice for the same course. These obstacles to completing or improving academic credentials come at a cost not only to those individuals, but also to the taxpayers who often foot the bill for the repeated coursework, and to our economy in the form of the affected students’ delayed entry to our nation’s workforce.
Indeed, in a 2005 report prepared by the Government Accountability Office on the transfer of credit issue confirms the national agencies’ own experiences. The GAO found that “84 percent of postsecondary institutions had policies to consider the accreditation of the sending institution when assessing transfer credits.” An official at the Department of Education recently indicated that the single largest number of complaints the Office of Postsecondary Education receives are from students wondering why their credits were denied by receiving institutions.
Accreditation and the accrediting agencies should play an important role in facilitating, not denying, credit approvals as Curris suggests. All recognized accrediting agencies -- whether regional, national or specialized -- are subject to the same criteria and approval processes by the Department of Education. The Council on Higher Education Accreditation (CHEA) and other organizations, like the American Association of Collegiate Registrars and Admissions Officers, have jointly and formally adopted a policy confirming that institutions should evaluate credits for transfer without discriminating based on the sending institution’s accreditation.
And, yet, the credits of students who attend nationally accredited schools continue to be denied on the basis of accreditation. Curris says that this denial is not necessarily about discrimination against proprietary schools. He is right -- this debate is not about the proprietary institutions. It is about the students who choose to attend institutions that have met Title IV eligibility and are accredited by agencies that meet the same criteria for U.S. Department of Education approval as the regional accrediting agencies. Curris seems skeptical of the types of schools the national accrediting agencies accredit -- in fact, many of these schools and their students look very much like the two year programs and students found at regionally accredited community colleges.
Instead of making arbitrary transfer decisions based on accreditation, the focus by institutions in these decisions should instead be on the students and the quality of credits they received. Even if institutional resources are tight, receiving institutions should be examining the course equivalency of the sending institution and student competency; students deserve this level of basic attention to objective measures. There is no legislation or regulatory solution proposed that would deny or affect the very important autonomy of an institution to make an independent judgment on the merits of the transfer request. The legislation that had been proposed merely asked institutions to give a student’s record a fair review.
This is a national problem requiring a national solution. Articulation, policy statements and other private sector arrangements, while helpful, do little to ensure that students nationwide will be fairly and consistently treated when considering a transfer. To support legislation in this in this area would provide affirmation to students, institutions, and accreditors that Congress intends to support student achievement, mobility, and access to an affordable education, as a matter of national education policy.
That Curris, as the head of one of the country’s major associations of public colleges, would argue otherwise is dismaying.
Elise Scanlon and Roger Williams
Elise Scanlon is executive director of the Accrediting Commission of Career Schools & Colleges of Technology, and Roger Williams is executive director of the Accrediting Council for Continuing Education & Training.
Financial crises cause public colleges to do funny things. Driven by enrollment limits, Bristol Community College in Massachusetts and Penn Foster University have come to an agreement allowing community college students to pay more to take Bristol classes delivered by Penn Foster. This deal comes upon the heels of the California Community College system announcing a deal that lets its students matriculate to Kaplan University, instead of the capacity-constrained California State University System, at a tuition level significantly steeper than Cal State’s though less expensive than Kaplan’s. Also in California, the College of the Sequoias, like many other colleges, is dipping into its rainy day fund and increasing class sizes while keeping tuition the same for now and likely higher in the future. At Bristol and through Kaplan, students pay more for the same. At College of the Sequoias, they pay the same for less.
Let me state my biases up front. I love unnatural acts -- particularly in higher education. My company, StraighterLine, which offers general education courses for which colleges can award transfer credit, has also been accused of performing unnatural acts with colleges. Kudos to Bristol Community College and the California Community College System for being willing to consider innovative options for their students. That said, these deals and actions worry me. Not because they are asking students to pay more – students always have the option to pay more – but because they do not give the students options to pay less.
Pay less? In these budget times? Any student who passed Econ 101 can tell you that, in a perfect market, price restrictions cause capacity constraints. State-mandated tuition levels and political resistance to tuition increases certainly qualify as price restrictions for public colleges. Therefore, the way to increase capacity is to allow higher prices for those willing to pay for it through a provider that’s not subject to state oversight. While these deals will undoubtedly allow greater enrollments and expand access to higher education, they do nothing to address the core failures of higher education economics. Indeed, higher education, abetted by an outdated accrediting and financial aid model, dramatically overprices many courses.
As printed in these virtual pages, it costs the University of Alabama $82 per student to deliver an intermediate math class and Frostburg State University in Maryland $25 per student to deliver an Introductory Psychology class. These two schools charge $2,680 and $2,100 for an out-of-state student for a three-credit class (out-of-state tuition better measures the nonsubsidized price per course). Further, these are face-to-face classes. Online classes can cost even less to deliver. These institutions, along with dozens of others with similar cost per student numbers, submitted this information to the National Center for Academic Transformation (NCAT) as part of the application process for grants to redesign their high enrollment general education courses. The profit margins on these general education courses for these nonprofit schools exceed 2000 percent. The same Econ 101 student would rightly note that, in a perfect market, this course-level profit margin would not be sustainable for long as new entrants would quickly enter the market to reduce the profit margin.
But it has been sustained. Why aren’t these extremely low prices for commonly taught courses passed onto students? First and foremost, most students rely on tuition subsidies available from the federal government through Pell Grants and loan subsidies. These benefits can only be accessed if the student enrolls in an institution – not just a course – that is accredited. Once enrolled, this financial aid cannot be applied to lower-priced courses at other institutions. Therefore, a market for lower-priced courses can only be supported by out-of-pocket expenditures or by a student completely transferring from one college to another. Further, lurking underneath a college’s tuition schedule is a nest of cross-subsidies. The profit margins on general education courses support low-enrollment courses, low-enrollment majors, administrators, sports teams, facilities and other nonacademic elements.
Indeed, though the price of college has risen, the amount dedicated to academics has declined. While many students enjoy the benefits of these subsidies, many others – such as commuter students, extension students or distance education students – do not. Lastly, the accreditation process itself takes five or more years, can only be undertaken by an institution (rather than a provider of courses), and requires a significant amount of overhead to be incurred – all of which pushes the overall price higher.
Agreements and actions like those of Bristol and the California community colleges, the nationwide growth in public college tuition, increases in Pell Grants, and further subsidized loans funneled through an institution-focused – as opposed to course-focused -- financial aid system point to continued rampant price escalation. So, it’s not an accident that Penn Foster, which is not regionally accredited, is working with Bristol, which is. Such an agreement gives students attending Bristol-branded/Penn Foster-provided programs access to a much larger pool of grants, subsidies and loans that can be spent on tuition. This deal expands slots for students, grows revenue for Penn Foster and grows revenue for Bristol. More importantly, it creates a precedent for variable tuition for the same credential from within the same institution. If public colleges are going to allow variable tuition for comparable credentials – and I think they should – they should allow it for those willing to pay more and pay less.
StraighterLine, the company that I run, offers a handful of general education courses for a subscription of about $100 per month without any taxpayer subsidies. As a provider of courses rather than a provider of degrees, we cannot be, nor do we want to be, accredited. Instead, our students receive credit for our courses at many hundreds of colleges via the American Council on Education Credit Recommendation Service or through direct arrangements with regionally accredited partner colleges. This can save students as much as 90 percent of the cost of their freshman year. On the one hand, since we’re not accredited, our prices only reflect the cost of individual course delivery, rather than subsidizing other elements of a traditional college. On the other, only students with the resources to pay out of pocket can take advantage of these prices. Call it an Accreditation Surcharge on taxpayers and poorer students.
Though our courses have received a variety of third-party endorsements – such as approval by the American Council of Education, approval by the Distance Education and Training Council (DETC), the appointment of an august advisory board, and review by partner colleges – awarding credit for these courses at these price points makes public colleges very nervous. When pushed by financial crisis, colleges search for deals that will help the college. They are not searching for deals that will help the student or the taxpayer.
Economist Paul Romer wryly noted that “a crisis is a terrible thing to waste.” Indeed, the higher education financial crisis presents an opportunity to examine basic pricing and financing assumptions in higher education. Agreements like the ones made by Bristol and in California should be welcomed as a way to expand capacity in high-demand fields. However, such agreements can only be embraced if similar agreements are made or policies enacted that allow students to more easily receive credit for taking much more affordable courses at other institutions and in other formats. If public colleges plan to allow students to pay variable tuition for more expensive courses, they should also allow variable pricing for less expensive courses. With many education providers – for-profit, nonprofit, accredited and unaccredited – available to provide additional educational capacity, colleges and their legislative overseers need to look at partnerships that will help students reduce tuition in addition to those that increase it. Given that this is in the student’s interest, not the institution’s, this might be the most unnatural act of all.
The notion that education, particularly a college degree, is the key to career success is a particularly American idea. It is what the sociologists W. Norton Grubb and Marvin Lazerson have called "the education gospel," a national ethos of hard work in school paying off and of equal opportunity for all. Politicians of every stripe have addressed unemployment by advising the unemployed to take individual responsibility for their futures by learning new skills and by reinventing themselves for a global economy where opportunity will materialize for those with the right credentials.
And workers have responded to the call. As The New York Timesreported recently, there are now more students enrolled in U.S. institutions of higher education than ever before. Today, women attend college in record numbers, and, according to the National Center for Education Statistics, in 2003, the number of African American, Hispanic, and other minorities enrolled in college reached the highest levels in history.
This all seems like very good news. With millions more students attending college, it makes sense to ask whether their degrees will pay off.
First of all, it is debatable whether a majority of future job openings will require a college degree. While the economist Tony Carnevale argues that jobs that require some college education will help lead a slow and painful recovery from the current recession, The New York Timesreports that, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, most job growth in the next decade will be in labor markets where a bachelor's degree is not necessary. Furthermore, the cost of attending college has risen dramatically in recent years. Conflicting claims about the economic value of a degree along with skyrocketing tuition raise a question about whether college is a good investment for all students, especially those low-income students who can least afford to spend money and years on a higher education venture that may not produce rewards.
Secondly, the issue of college payoff becomes even more complicated when we consider that many students who begin college will not complete degrees. While the U.S. leads the world in college attendance, it is ranked near the bottom in the number of students who actually graduate. In fact, college access, which is touted as a symbol of our meritocratic ideals, leads to a degree for only about half of all students who enroll. Completion rates are even lower for first-generation collegians and people of color. According to education researcher Peter Sacks, the chance that a low-income child will earn a bachelor's degree is no higher today than it was in 1970, a grave contradiction in the meritocratic narrative of the education gospel.
In fact, as the sociologist Annette Lareau has shown in Unequal Childhoods: Class, Race, and Family Life, the qualities that lead to academic success are not linked to college access, effort, or intelligence, but to accidents of birth. For the most part, the children of affluent parents attend the best colleges and get the best jobs. Opening the doors of higher education has not altered this basic arrangement. Still, the myth persists that, to get ahead in life, the first thing you ought to do is write a tuition check.
These days it is more likely that a student's first tuition bill will be paid with money from a loan. What looks like an investment in the future, however, can often turn into an economic disaster. For example, let me tell you about Valerie, an immigrant from Haiti, who had always dreamed of becoming the first in her family to earn a college degree. After high school in Harlem, Valerie spent six years at a private, nonprofit, open-door college in New York City accumulating credits for a psychology degree that she finally completed in 2006.
One year after graduation, the only job she could find was working as a teacher's aide (a position that did not require a bachelor's) for $14,000 per year. She also had to work as a salesperson in a clothing store to make ends meet. This might not have been so bad except that, after years of student loans, Valerie owed almost $60,000, a sum she could never hope to repay. After returning to the same college to earn a M.A. degree, Valerie found a job as a social worker earning a $33,000 annual salary. While this was a big step up from her teacher's aide job, Valerie was still unable to meet her financial obligations, and she had begun to question whether her six-year investment of time and money had been worth it. "Is this my American dream? Am I living it now?" she wondered.
There are many students like Valerie who have been led to believe that higher education is the key to a better life. We can all point to success stories in which nontraditional collegians achieve a sense of purpose and satisfaction in the life of the mind, earn degrees, and find jobs worthy of their tremendous effort and intelligence. But there is a pervasive silence in academe about the tarnished hopes and debt loads of many other students who do not complete degrees. In 2009, Public Agenda reported that most students who leave college list economic concerns as the number one reason they did not graduate. Many smart, dedicated students who want to go to college simply cannot afford to do so. And, as Valerie's case makes clear, even those students who do graduate may not find great demand for their skills at the end of a college-to-work road paved with debt.
Student loans like the ones that financed Valerie's education are the most burdensome to nontraditional collegians, especially working-class students and people of color. These students are disproportionately enrolled in institutions that do not look anything like the colleges of popular imagination in which full-time students live on residential campuses, party on fraternity row, and attend football games.
The dire situation on many campuses has been painfully documented in Inside Higher Ed by Wick Sloane, who has studied the realities of academic life for students at a two-year college in Boston. These students are commuters who sleep in their cars and attend classes in the evenings after working all day in low-wage jobs. They take their fear, stress, and economic anxiety into overcrowded classes taught mostly by underpaid, part-time teachers while "federal tax policies . . . subsidize Ivy League and other wealthy-college students by at least $20,000 per student." These conditions suggest that underfunded colleges do a disservice to poor and minority students.
This is a position much at odds with the official designation of two-year colleges as democratic ports of entry to the middle class.
Don’t get me wrong. Many two-year colleges and open-door institutions have wonderful programs run by committed faculty and administrators who have the best interests of students in mind. Yet the Herculean efforts of these educators do not change the fact that many nonselective colleges serve the same function: they keep disaffected unemployed and low-income people out of the labor market by warehousing them in college classrooms where students pay handsomely for an education that may not serve their economic interests.
Making this argument is difficult because it sounds like I am discouraging low-income and minority students from going to college. This could not be further from the truth.
Rather, I am proposing that those of us working in academe begin to dismantle the myth that higher education can facilitate social mobility on a mass scale. In fact, the opposite is true. According to a study by the Brookings Institution, "the average effect of education at all levels is to reinforce rather than compensate for the differences associated with family background and the many home-based advantages and disadvantages that children and adolescents bring with them into the classroom." This is a shattering indictment of the education gospel. Dismantling this myth means being honest with ourselves and with our students about the role of higher education in reproducing class inequality across generations.
Such honesty also means acknowledging that mass access to college does not and cannot provide upward mobility to the vast majority of students who seek it. Access to higher education can only be one part of what must become a broad social movement to redress income inequality that is higher than it has been since the 1920s. College graduates, like Valerie, should be able to earn a living wage.
But we shouldn't stop there. As the Economic Policy Institute researcher Richard Rothstein writes, "It is certainly possible for retail salespersons, fast-food workers, and home health care aides to earn middle-class incomes, but this won't happen because these workers got postsecondary training." Rather, it will be because they have "much stronger minimum-wage and labor-union protections, [and] economic security with good health care."
Class is not a result of merit or effort or hard work paying off. It is largely a legacy transferred between generations. No matter how many college degrees are distributed, we still tolerate a system that doles out limited rewards to all but a privileged few. In this climate, the pursuit of elusive degrees more often functions as a distraction from what really provides security to families and children: good jobs at fair wages, robust unions, affordable access to health care and transportation, and a sound, affordable education for everyone, regardless of background.
These are all factors unacknowledged in the push to convince people that that, if they can't find a job, they should take sole responsibility for their fate, sign up for that first student loan, and get their pencils ready.
Ann Larson is recent graduate of the Ph.D. program in English (composition and rhetoric) at the City University of New York Graduate Center. She is a writing fellow at CUNY's Hunter College.
The for-profit college industry is taking fire from all directions because a substantial number of for-profit colleges offer aggressively marketed programs of little value in the job market, leaving individuals unable to repay their debts and saddling taxpayers with the default burden. Much of the bad press is deserved, but the atmosphere of scandal and abuse detracts from a larger point: We have failed to adequately connect college and careers. The current abuses are but the worst-case examples of this failure.
This failure has broader implications because a postsecondary credential has become the prerequisite for middle class earnings, but there are enormous discrepancies in earnings returns between different credentials. Sometimes, a particular certificate is worth more than a particular bachelor’s degree. For example, 27 percent of people with licenses and certificates earn more than the average bachelor’s degree recipient does. This information is not intuitive, but it is available, and prospective students should have access to it to understand what they’re getting.
Like it or not, postsecondary education is already almost entirely occupational. All certificates and occupational associate degrees are intended to have labor market value. Academic associate degrees have minimal return unless they lead to a bachelor’s. Only 3 percent of bachelor’s degrees are liberal arts, general studies, and humanities degrees -- the remaining 97 percent have an occupational focus. (Add in English, philosophy, religion, and cultural and ethnic studies and you're up to 8 percent.) Moreover, for most students, liberal arts degrees are preparation for graduate and professional degrees, virtually all of which are intended to prepare students for careers.
The current dust-up shouldn’t be about for-profit colleges being all bad, nor about public colleges being off the hook. Rather, we should attempt to use data to find out which colleges are performing for their students.
The current scandal has arisen because of bad information. Slick subway ads and glossy brochures will not suffice to provide potential students weighing their options with accurate career advice. There is a real alternative to late-night infomercials that promise undeliverable outcomes. In fact, the detailed elements of such a system already exist -- including unemployment insurance wage records, transcript and program data, job openings data, and detailed information on occupational competencies.
It’s just a matter of putting them together effectively -- some states have already built the rudiments of such systems -- and making the information publicly available and in online, user-friendly formats.
To build this data system, wage record data would have to be tied to transcript data. Wage record data, which is actual wages at the individual level as reported by an employer, has been around since the late 1930s and is used to verify eligibility for unemployment insurance. These records are held at the state level by employment services agencies, and are also given to the federal government every three months. Transcript data is not currently collected by any federal agency, but is available in varying degrees in all but five states. Eleven states have already linked their transcript and wage record data, and are able to track earnings returns to postsecondary programs. Only seven states can link transcript and wage record data for programs at proprietary schools. This system is still nascent, but has enormous potential to help students evaluate their options, as well as inform institutions in planning new programs and evaluating existing ones.
Building a user-friendly interface is the next step, if we wish for this information to be useful for consumers. Imagine being able, with a few clicks and keystrokes, to explore various careers, find out how many jobs are currently available in the field, how many there are likely to be over the next several years in your area, what education and training programs exist in your local area and online, what they cost, what financial aid is available, and what the average salaries are for graduates of each program. Such a system would empower individuals to choose careers that would truly benefit them, and encourage institutions to offer programs that would prepare them for the jobs that will actually exist.
Such an information system would not eliminate, but would reduce, the future need for intrusive federal oversight or expensive additional state-level regulation. Further, such information systems that connect postsecondary programs with labor markets represent a savings to the taxpayer, improving efficiency in matching programs to careers and curbing the enormous cost of student loan default.
Educators and others may worry that tying curriculums to careers may subjugate education to economics. We clearly need to aspire to a pragmatic balance between postsecondary education’s growing economic role and its traditional cultural and political independence from economic forces. While it is important that we not lose sight of the non-economic benefits of education, the economic role of postsecondary education -- especially in preparing American youth for work and helping adults stay abreast of economic change -- is also central to the educator’s broader mission to cultivate thoughtful individuals.
The inescapable reality is that ours is a society based on work. Those who are not equipped with the skills and credentials necessary to get, and keep, good jobs are denied full social inclusion and tend to drop out of the mainstream culture, polity, and economy. In the worst cases, they are drawn into alternative cultures, political movements, and economic activities that are a threat to mainstream American life.
The current abuses are a wake-up call -- they signal the disenfranchisement of students who are denied access to the middle class and full social inclusion because they lack information on what kind of education can get them there.
Anthony P. Carnevale and Michelle Melton
Anthony P. Carnevale is director of the Georgetown University Center on Education and the Economy, and Michelle Melton and Laura Meyer are research associates there.