Early on, as the financial markets spiraled down and unemployment surged, some commentators argued that the national environment would provide the impetus to effect serious change in higher education. After all, they reasoned, campus stakeholders understood the seriousness of the events around them as massive layoffs were occurring, 403(b) funds were being reduced to 203(b)s and it was universally understood that no job on campus was safe, potentially even faculty jobs.
As a variety of troubling conditions became almost simultaneously woven together, it appeared as though a sea change for institutions was inevitable -- a perfect storm for change was developing over higher education. The economic downturn and associated collateral damage created urgency for all stakeholders to come together in a more politically civilized environment to invoke major shifts in how the academy operates as an organization and as a learning community.
However, generally absent from cost containment and revenue sustainability decisions are cost reallocation decisions regarding the relevance and viability of the academic portfolio. The extent to which institutions explore the financial performance, market demand and mission impact of academic programs (e.g., programs, concentrations, courses, sections) across the program portfolio is largely unknown. It is unclear if institutions have a structured process, access to the data and reporting mechanisms to inform review of programs and, subsequently, if they have the capacity to make decisions to retire/eliminate programs.
Given the significant resources allocated to academic programs, the time many programs have been in existence, and the changing market place and challenging economic conditions, a rigorous, objective review is a reasonable and necessary part of an institution’s due diligence. However, these decisions may be the most challenging of all.
Even in the face of unprecedented financial challenge, are the traditions, political forces, mission arguments and ideological posturing within the academy trumping the ability to restructure the academic portfolio, and the decision making and resource allocation structures that currently exist? Or, alternatively, is the eye of the storm of such magnitude that this level of macro change will be deferred until stimulus funding evaporates and there is a public moratorium on tuition and fee increases?
Perhaps for some regions, major restructuring will occur only when the reality of large declines in the high school pipeline make their way into annual operating budgets, and community colleges begin cannibalizing enrollments from neighboring four-year institutions.
A Case Illustration
Consider a view of the national academic program portfolio. In 2007, higher education produced 2,189,315 degrees in total across 1,079 fields of study. The distribution of degree conferrals across fields of study varies greatly, ranging from 0 to 218,212. Despite the volume of degrees conferred annually, focused on an extensive variety of fields of study, it is a reasonable assumption that not all of these programs possess either the recent historic evidence or market opportunity to support their continuation.
For illustration purposes, review the set of program viability metrics below. These are real data points of an academic program currently offered by an accredited institution. Enrollments have not grown over the past 5 years, degrees conferred have declined by 20.5 percent, projected employment of graduates in this field within the State is relatively static through 2014 and the regional competitive landscape is saturated with similar programs, as seen in the table below:
Has enrollment for this specific program grown at the institution?
Enrollment for the program has witnessed 0 growth from 2004-2007 with 17 degrees conferred during each of those years.
Nationally, have conferrals in this or similar degrees grown?
From 2002 to 2007, bachelor’s degrees conferred nationally in this field declined from 468 to 372 degrees, or a 20.5% decrease.
Regionally, are relevant occupations for graduates of this degree expected to increase?
Employment of graduates in this State is low and growth is expected to remain static. Specifically, employment is expected to increase minimally from 99 in 2004 to 122 occupations in 2014.
Nationally, are relevant occupations for graduates of this degree expected to increase?
Employment prospects for this field will remain relatively static at a 3.7% growth rate from 2006-2016 (or 1,000 jobs dispersed nationally) with no (0) expected annual average job openings due to growth and net replacements.
Is there a strong market opportunity for this degree program?
There are 12 regional competitors offering a similar bachelor’s degree.
Institutional leaders can use this type of analysis to make difficult, but evidence-based, decisions. There are, of course, other variables that should be considered in this context. For example, is the program directly aligned with the institution’s mission and strategic plan, and/or does it support the goals of a liberal arts education? However, a decision to maintain the program will be made based on a review of a more comprehensive set of program metrics, including projected market demand.
Adopting a Portfolio Review Process
An academic portfolio review process differs from the traditional internal review process. The internal review often focuses on such academic program elements as student achievement and learning outcomes, course scheduling, strengths of faculty, course/adviser workload and resource utilization. The review of the academic portfolio is focused on sustainability, market relevance, and viability of programs moving forward.
The results of a regular and systematic academic program viability review can help institutions creatively address a number of key challenges. As institutions identify emerging program growth areas, many have a severely restricted capacity to add new programs -- new programs that make sense in the context of emerging/evolving fields, occupations and sectors such as sustainability, energy and the health sciences. However, absent grant awards and major gifts from donors, these and other necessary new programs will not have access to the significant capital to both launch and sustain them over time.
Beyond new program development, there are also competing needs for resources to improve student retention and success; advising and mentoring, faculty enrichment, assessment, and focused student support resources. The academic resource pool should be dynamic and fluid. Programs that might be missed but are no longer necessary or relevant (based on market demand, financial performance, competitive landscape, quality, etc.) should have their resources repurposed for emerging needs or opportunities. The tradition of adding programs without changing the base is simply no longer feasible.
So, to what extent are institutions engaged in a systematic and regular evaluation of its academic program portfolio? Consider the following set of questions as an entry point to such a process:
1. If a program has neither the demand (marginal or declining enrollments) nor the market for its graduates, what other factors or rationale is used to support the program’s continuance?
2. To what extent are academic offerings directly aligned with the vision, mission and strategic objectives of your institution’s priorities? If a program is not financially viable but is clearly aligned with the mission of the institution, can the institution afford to have that program subsidized by other financially viable programs?
4. What impact does the competitive landscape for a program have on the institution’s capacity to successfully recruit students, retain faculty and sustain resources to make the program viable in the long term?
5. Do the characteristics of the program lend itself to an alternative delivery mode such as online learning?
6. If analysis suggests that a program is not financially viable, is without a market and is not mission critical, consider how those instructional, program and physical space resources could be re-tasked to address emerging needs or other mission-specific needs of the institution.
There is no question that this is a challenging area to address. There can be strong arguments to maintain programs even if those programs are not directly reflected in present or future market demand or are financially neutral. It may be that they are “untouchable” due to the core values and commitment to a broad based education. But it seems implausible to think this can be the case for all academic programs.
Creating a program viability assessment culture that objectively organizes the metrics for market demand, financial performance, mission impact and program quality appears a necessary part of institutional due diligence, especially during these economic times.
It’s difficult to believe now, but not so long ago, I looked forward to making up syllabuses.
Once the grand meal of the course had been structured and I’d chosen an exciting title, the syllabus design was my dessert. I took the word “design” quite literally, having fun with frames and borders, trying out different fonts, fiddling with margins.
Then, after printing out the final document, I’d sit at my kitchen table and add images saved for the purpose from old magazines, vintage catalogs, pulp advertising, obscure books, and other ephemera. Fat cherubs blowing their trumpets would announce Thanksgiving break; a skull and crossbones marked the spot of the final exam. My masterpiece was a course on the work of Edgar Allan Poe, whose syllabus was a gothic folly with a graveyard on the front page and cadaver worms crawling up the margins.
Over time, my syllabuses grew less creative. I still gave my courses what I hoped were enticing titles, and I’d usually add an image to the front page, but nothing more. In part, I was afraid my quirky designs might make the course seem less serious; I also had far less free time than I used to. But mostly, it was the number of disclaimers, caveats and addenda at the end of the syllabus that made my designs seem out of place. All these extra paragraphs made the syllabus seem less personal, and more institutional -- but then, I realized, perhaps it was time I grew up and began to toe the party line.
Those were the good old days. Now, at a different institution, I teach in a low-residency program whose courses are taught, in part, online. The institutional syllabus template is pre-provided: Times New Roman, 12-point font, 1-inch margins -- and don’t forget the “inspirational quote” at the top of the page.
The Course Description is followed by the list of Course Objectives, Learning Outcomes, Curriculum and Reading Assignments, Required Reading, Assessment Criteria and so on, all the way down to the Institute’s Plagiarism Policy and Equal Opportunity Provisions. Colleagues tell me it’s the same almost everywhere now; the syllabus is now composed mainly of long, dry passages of legalese.
I no longer design my own course titles -- or, if I do, they need to be the kind of thing that looks appropriate on a transcript, which means “Comparative Approaches to the Gothic Novel,” not “Monks, Murder and Mayhem!” There’s an extra plague in online teaching, however, in that -- at least, at the institution where I’m currently employed -- all course materials, including weekly presentations, must be submitted months in advance.
This, I’m told, is not only to ensure that books are ordered and copyrights cleared, but also for the various documents to pass along the line of administrative staff whose job includes vetting them in order to be sure no rules have been violated, then uploading them in the appropriate format. Moreover, a syllabus, we are constantly reminded, is a binding legal document; once submitted, it must be followed to the letter. Omissions or inclusions would be legitimate grounds for student complaint.
Gone, then, are the days when I could bring my class an article from that morning’s New York Times. Now, when I stumble on a story, book or film that would fit perfectly with the course I’m currently teaching, I feel depressed, not excited. I can mention it, sure, but I can’t “use” it in the class. Nor can I reorient the course in mid-stream once I get to know the students; I can’t change a core text, for example, if I find they’ve all read it before; I can’t change the materials to meet student interests or help with difficulties, as I once did without a second thought.
This is especially perplexing in online teaching, where it’s so easy to link to a video, film clip, or audio lecture. We have an institution-wide rule that such materials may not be used unless accompanied by a written transcript for the hearing impaired. When I object that there are no hearing impaired students in my small class of six, I am told that no, there are currently no students who have disclosed such an impairment. The transcripts are needed in case any of them should do so -- in which case, they would be immediately entitled to transcripts for all audio-visual material previously used in the course. Sadly, those who pay the price for this assiduous care of phantom students are the six real students in the course.
In brief, what used to be a treat is now an irksome chore.
Instead of designing a syllabus, I’m filling out a template, whose primary reader is not the student, not even the phantom potential-hearing-impaired student, but the administrators and examiners who’ll be scanning it for potential deviations from standard policy.
Sitting at my kitchen table with scissors and glue, I always felt as though the syllabus -- and, by implication, the course -- was something that came from within me, something I had literally produced, at home, with pleasure and joy.
Now, by the time the course is finally “taught” months after the template has been submitted, it feels like a stillbirth from a mechanical mother.
Mikita Brottman is chair of the humanities program at Pacifica Graduate Institute.
Loyola University New Orleans is starting three interdisciplinary majors in the environment: a bachelor of science in environmental science with a concentration in biological sciences; a bachelor of arts in environmental studies with a concentration in the humanities; and a bachelor of arts in environmental studies with a concentration in social sciences.
Today's students have different expectations and skills with regard to technology, and colleges sometimes fail to meet those expectations or understand what those skills mean, according to a new e-book.
The e-book, the first published by Educause, is Educating the Net Generation. It is available free on the organization's Web site.
Diana G. Oblinger, a vice president of Educause and co-editor of the book, answered some questions about its themes in an e-mail interview:
Lots of colleges brag about undergraduate research, but particularly in the sciences, separating the substance from the fluff is a challenge. Outside validation helps, and Cody Locke's work on epilepsy research at the University of Alabama at Tuscaloosa has it.
For months now, Brandeis professors have been riled by the possibility that key liberal arts programs -- including instruction in ancient Greek -- would be eliminated. Now the dean who put those ideas up for consideration has withdrawn them.
Adam Jaffe, dean of arts and sciences, recently told faculty members that they no longer needed to view these ideas as being under active consideration. Linguistics and a music composition program also faced elimination and several other departments faced possible reductions in size.