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  • Toward a Trauma-Informed Writing Process (opinion)

    Toward a Trauma-Informed Writing Process (opinion)

    “Your writing isn’t academic enough.”

    A single sentence from a faculty mentor cut deeper than I expected—because it wasn’t the first time my voice had been questioned. I spent decades believing I was not good enough to become a writer. Not because I lacked skill or insight, but because I was writing through a deep wound I didn’t yet understand.

    That statement was a flashpoint, but the wound began long before:

    • When I, as a shy Guatemalan immigrant child, felt I was lacking academically and learned to shrink my voice.
    • When I was told that my ways of knowing—grounded in culture, emotion, embodiment—didn’t belong in academic writing.
    • When I absorbed the perfectionism and shame that academia breeds.

    For years, I edited myself into invisibility—performing an academic voice that was praised for its polish and precision but stripped of everything that made it mine.

    And I am not alone.

    The Invisible Wounds We Carry

    In my work as a writing consultant and developmental editor, I hear the same story over and over: Brilliant scholars—often from historically excluded communities—are convinced they are bad writers when, in reality, they are carrying unprocessed writing trauma.

    We rarely name it as such. But that is what it is:

    • The trauma of repeatedly being told your voice is wrong or not “rigorous.”
    • The trauma of navigating academic culture that rewards conformity over authenticity.
    • The trauma of absorbing deficit narratives about your language, identity or intellectual worth.

    Academic spaces can be punishing, performative and isolating. Add in past wounds—whether from classrooms, reviewers, supervisors or broader systems—and writing becomes more than putting words on a page. It becomes a battleground.

    I once had a client who burst into tears during a one-on-one session with me. She opened the document she had avoided for weeks. The moment her fingers hovered over the keyboard, she said, her chest tightened. She felt dizzy, like the room was closing in.

    “I can’t do this,” she whispered.

    What was she working on? A simple literature review. But there was nothing simple about it.

    Her body remembered: her first-year doctoral seminar, where she was told her writing wasn’t academic enough. Being cut off in class. Watching her white male peer echo her words and be praised for his “insight.”

    Writing didn’t feel liberating. It felt like re-enactment.

    Her tears weren’t a breakdown. They were a breakthrough. Her nervous system was doing exactly what it was designed to do: keep her safe.

    I’ve experienced that spiral, too. Sitting in front of a blank screen, begging my brain to write something!—only to be met with my inner chorus:

    • I teach people how to write—what’s my problem?
    • I’m not going to say anything that hasn’t already been said.
    • This is going to take forever—and I’d rather not disappoint myself.
    • I’m not really a good writer. I’m just faking it.

    Even after years of writing—journals, academic papers, dissertation, books—it still doesn’t feel easy. I have to work at it each day. Writing, for me, is like a relationship. At first, it’s exciting. Words flow; ideas spark. But eventually, the doubts creep in. You start to ghost your own document.

    But real relationships, and real writing, require showing up. Even when you’re tired. Even when it’s hard. Even when it feels like your worst critic lives inside your own head.

    This Isn’t All in Your Head—It’s All in Your Body

    These blocks that haunt you as you imagine writing aren’t signs that you shouldn’t write the thing. These are survival strategies your nervous system uses to protect you. And yes—they show up at your desk.

    This is all to say that, in my experience, writing blocks tend to be trauma responses—not character flaws or technical writing issues. Now, are there times when folks are challenged by things like time management? Of course. But to me, that is just a symptom of something deep-seated.

    We’re told to “just sit down and write,” as if our struggle is solely or partly a matter of discipline, time management or motivation. But often, it’s not that we don’t want to write. We actually really want to write. It’s that our body—our entire nervous system—is sounding an alarm.

    Not safe. Not ready. Not now.

    The response varies. It’s not one-size-fits-all. But it’s always trying to protect us.

    Let’s break these responses down.

    1. Fight: You argue with your work. Nothing sounds good enough. Every sentence feels off. You rewrite the same paragraph 10 times and still hate it. You pick fights with your draft like it owes you money. You hover over the “delete” key like a weapon. You get lost in perfectionist loops, convinced that your argument is weak, your evidence lacking, your phrasing too soft, too bold, too elementary, too you.

    This is the part of you that learned, somewhere along the way, that the best defense is a good offense. If you criticize your writing first, no one else can beat you to it.

    It’s a form of protection dressed as hypervigilance.

    It’s exhausting. And it’s not your fault.

    1. Flight: You avoid it completely. The minute you open the document, your chest tightens. So instead, you check your email, clean the kitchen, research grants for a project you haven’t even started, reformat your CV for the fifth time or suddenly become very concerned about the state of your inbox folders. Every task feels urgent—except the one you actually need to do.

    It doesn’t mean you don’t care. It means your system is trying to escape danger. And in academia, writing often is danger, because of what it represents—exposure, judgment, potential rejection—and what it can lead to: excommunication, cancellation, even deportation.

    Flight says, “If I don’t go near the source of pain, I won’t have to feel it.” But avoidance doesn’t erase fear. It buries it. And that buried fear just grows heavier.

    1. Freeze: You stare at the screen, paralyzed. You’ve carved out time, made the tea, lit the candle—and still, nothing happens. The cursor blinks like it’s mocking you. You reread the same sentence 30 times. You open a new tab, then another. You scroll, refresh, skim, click—but you’re not absorbing anything.

    Your body might go still, but inside, it’s chaos: looping thoughts, spiraling doubts, blankness that feels like suffocation.

    This is shutdown. Your brain says, “Too much.” So it hits pause.

    It might look like laziness, but it’s actually self-preservation.

    1. Fawn: You overfocus on pleasing others.

    This one’s sneaky. You’re writing. You’re producing. But you’re doing it in someone else’s voice. You try to imagine what your adviser would say. You filter every word through Reviewer 2’s past critiques. You write with a white, cis-hetero-masculine ghost looking over your shoulder.

    You say what you think you should say. You cite whom you think you have to cite. You mute your own voice to keep the peace.

    You’re not writing to be heard. You’re writing to be accepted.

    Fawning isn’t about submission. It’s about safety. It’s about staying small so you don’t become a target. But in doing so, you slowly disappear from your own work.

    What if your block isn’t failure?

    What if it’s your body’s way of saying:

    “This way of writing doesn’t feel safe.”

    “These expectations aren’t sustainable.”

    “You are not a machine. You are a whole human.”

    Writing as a Site of Healing, Not Harm

    If we understand writing blocks as trauma responses, then the answer isn’t more pressure or productivity hacks.

    The answer is care.

    A trauma-informed writing practice prompts us to shift our questions:

    • Instead of “Why am I procrastinating?” ask, “What am I protecting myself from?”
    • Instead of “How can I write more?” ask, “What would make this feel safer?”
    • Instead of “Why can’t I just get it done?” ask, “What do I need to feel supported right now?”

    This practice is about making room for your whole self at the writing table.

    It includes:

    • Slowing down to listen to your resistance. What is it trying to tell you? What stories or fears are surfacing?
    • Creating emotional safety before expecting output. That might mean grounding rituals, community check-ins or simply naming your fear out loud.
    • Reframing writing as healing, not harm. What if writing wasn’t about proving your worth but about reclaiming your voice? What if it became a place to process, reflect, resist—and even rest?

    Because here’s the truth: You can’t punish yourself into productivity.

    You can’t shame your voice into clarity.

    But you can write your way into wholeness—slowly, gently, in your own time.

    Resistance Is Wisdom

    Let’s stop treating our writing resistance as evidence of failure. What if it’s an invitation to listen? A clue to your next move? A doorway into a new way of knowing? Let’s not avoid resistance but lean into it, face it and treat it with compassion.

    Ask yourself,

    • What if my block isn’t a wall, but a mirror?
    • What if my voice needs tenderness, not toughness?
    • What if my writing can be a place where I feel more like myself, not less?

    Maybe the goal isn’t to “push through” your writing block.

    Maybe it’s to create the conditions where it feels safe enough to speak your voice.

    You don’t need to force yourself to write like someone you’re not.

    You don’t need to perform brilliance to be taken seriously.

    You don’t need to sacrifice your health on the altar of productivity.

    You need practices that restore your voice, not erase it.

    You need writing that nourishes, not punishes.

    A trauma-informed writing practice invites your whole self to the page. It makes room for and challenges you to lean into the imperfection, reflection and vulnerability. It reframes writing not as punishment but as possibility.

    Toward a More Human Academy

    In this political moment—where academic freedom is under attack, DEI initiatives are being dismantled and scholars are being silenced for telling the truth—we can’t afford to ignore how trauma shapes whose voices get heard, cited or erased.

    Trauma-informed writing is a form of resistance.

    It’s how we push back against systems that demand performance over presence, conformity over courage.

    It’s how we cultivate an academy where all voices—especially those long excluded—can write with power, truth and unapologetic authenticity.

    I’m still healing my own writing wounds. Maybe you are, too.

    But here’s what I know now: Writing wounds don’t heal overnight.

    They heal when we meet them with compassion—every time we dare to put words on a page.

    Aurora Chang is the founder of Aurora Chang Consulting LLC, where she provides developmental editing, holistic faculty support and writing consulting rooted in compassion and authenticity. A former professor and faculty developer, she now partners with academics to reclaim their voices, sustain their careers and write with purpose.

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  • Purdue Ends GEAR UP Program After Federal Grant Cut

    Purdue Ends GEAR UP Program After Federal Grant Cut

    Purdue University is ending its GEAR UP program after the Trump administration canceled a $34.9 million federal grant to support its activities, WFYI reported. The program provided college-prep programming for more than 13,000 low-income students in Indiana, according to a 2024 press release from Purdue’s College of Education.  

    The grant, awarded last year, was expected to run through 2031. But the U.S. Department of Education told Purdue in a Sept. 12 termination letter that the grant application flouted the department’s policy of “prioritizing merit, fairness, and excellence in education” and ran afoul of civil rights law. The letter referenced parts of the application, including plans to provide DEI training to hiring managers and professional development in “culturally responsive teaching.”

    The program is “inconsistent with, and no longer effectuates, the best interest of the Federal Government,” the letter read. The GEAR UP program shut down on Tuesday. Purdue did not appeal the grant termination, WFYI reported.

    The Education Department has canceled at least nine GEAR UP grants, EducationWeek reported, though it continued awards for other programs last week.

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  • Academic Staff Need Academic Freedom, Too (opinion)

    Academic Staff Need Academic Freedom, Too (opinion)

    Late last spring, something disturbing happened in my classroom. For the first time in 15 years of teaching, I opened by telling my students I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to speak. The class was an introduction to the philosophy of education, and months earlier I’d scheduled this day for our opening discussion on critical pedagogy. But in light of charged campus climates and broader legal threats facing institutions nationwide, I realized that as an academic staff member who engages in teaching and research, I was particularly vulnerable.

    What followed was one of the more important classes I’ve taught, though not about the subject I’d planned. We spent the hour investigating our institution’s academic freedom policies, asking questions of whom those policies included and excluded. We discovered the troubling reality: Although I was expected to facilitate complex educational discussions, I lacked clear protections to do so safely.

    My situation reflects a growing crisis in higher education that has received little attention. While much has been written about the vulnerabilities of contingent faculty, there has been almost no discussion of the academic freedom needs of one of higher education’s most rapidly growing workforces: third-space professionals.

    The Rise of the Third Space

    Over the past two decades, universities have dramatically expanded what researcher Celia Whitchurch terms “third-space” professionals: staff who blend academic and administrative functions but operate in the ambiguous territory between traditional faculty and staff roles.

    These roles aren’t new or unprecedented. The American Association of University Professors has long recognized that librarians, despite often holding staff status, require academic freedom protections given their integral role in teaching and research. What’s new is the scale and diversity of academic work now performed by nonfaculty academic professionals.

    This growth represents the contemporary evolution of a workforce shift that began in the 1970s, when academic support roles developed in response to diverse students entering colleges through open admissions policies. The 1990s brought expansion into new fields like faculty development and community-based learning, as colleges recognized these roles could enhance teaching practices institutionwide. Most recently, colleges have seen explosive growth in data-driven student success and enrollment management roles.

    What unites these professionals is their expertise in designing and delivering on the academic mission of the university, with special emphasis on student success. They lead pedagogical and curricular initiatives, make decisions about learning interventions, analyze data that reveals uncomfortable truths about institutional performance, and advocate for evidence-based policy revisions. They also regularly teach college courses, write and receive major grants, and publish in peer-reviewed journals. In essence, they do academic work, but without academic protections.

    Why Academic Freedom Matters for Third-Space Work

    The problem is easy to name but difficult to address. Institutions have radically restructured how academic work gets done based on the shifting needs of students and priorities of institutions, without a reciprocal restructuring of how academic work gets supported or protected. Third-space professionals need academic freedom protections for four key reasons.

    1. Educational decision-making: These professionals make pedagogical and curricular choices about student learning interventions, program design and educational strategies. Without academic freedom, they face pressure to implement approaches based on administrative convenience, pressure from faculty or donor preferences, rather than evidence-based best practices. What happens, for instance, when a faculty member feels the writing center’s approach to writing pedagogy conflicts with their own vision for writing in their classroom?
    2. Data interpretation and reporting: Student success professionals analyze retention, graduation and achievement data that may reveal uncomfortable truths about institutional performance or equity gaps. They need protection when their findings challenge institutional narratives or suggest costly reforms. What happens when an institutional researcher’s analysis shows that a flagship retention program isn’t working, but the administration has just featured it in a major donor presentation?
    3. Policy advocacy: Their direct work with students gives them insights into institutional policies and processes that harm student success. They should be able to advocate for necessary changes without fear of retaliation, even when those changes conflict with administrative priorities or departmental preferences. What happens when an academic adviser discovers that the prerequisite structure in a major is creating unnecessary barriers for students, but changing it would require difficult conversations with powerful department heads?
    1. Research and assessment: Many third-space professionals conduct and publish research on student success interventions, learning outcomes and institutional effectiveness. This scholarship requires the same protections as traditional academic research. What happens when assessment reveals the ineffectiveness of first-year seminar teaching, but presenting findings could damage relationships with faculty colleagues?

    The Problem of Selective Recognition

    Universities have already recognized that faculty work has diversified and requires differentiated policy structures. Many institutions now distinguish between research professors (focused on scholarship and grant acquisition), teaching professors (emphasizing teaching practice) and professors of practice (bringing professional expertise into academic settings). Each category receives tailored policies for promotion, performance evaluation and professional development that align with their distinct contributions.

    Yet on the staff side, institutions continue to operate as if all nonfaculty work is identical. A writing center director publishing on linguistic justice, an assistant dean of students developing crisis-intervention protocols for student mental health emergencies and a facilities director managing building maintenance are all governed by the same generic “staff” policies. This isn’t just administratively awkward: It’s a fundamental misalignment between how work actually happens and how institutions recognize and protect that work.

    Applying Consistent Logic

    The way forward isn’t revolutionary, but simply the application of the same logic that most universities already use for faculty. Rather than the outdated single “staff” category, colleges and universities need at least three distinct categories that reflect how staff work actually happens.

    1. Academic staff: Professionals engaged in teaching, research, curriculum design and educational assessment, including learning center directors, faculty developers, institutional researchers, professional academic advisers and academic program directors. These roles require academic freedom protections, scholarly review processes and governance representation.
    2. Student life staff: Professionals focused on co-curricular support, belonging and student life, including residence life coordinators, activities directors and counseling staff. These roles need specialized professional development and advancement pathways that recognize and support their expertise in student development.
    3. Operational staff: Professionals handling business functions, facilities and administrative operations. These roles can continue with traditional staff policies and support structures.

    This framework enables differentiated policy environments and support structures across multiple areas. Critically, academic freedom policies can be tailored to protect inquiry for staff who engage in this kind of work, while recognizing that other staff have different professional needs.

    The expansion of third-space/academic staff roles represents higher education’s recognition that effective student success requires diverse forms of expertise working collaboratively. But without policy frameworks that acknowledge and protect this academic work, institutions risk undermining the very innovations they’ve created. When the professionals responsible for student success cannot engage in free inquiry, challenge ineffective practices or advocate for evidence-based approaches, everyone loses—especially students.

    Aaron Stoller is associate vice president for student success and a lecturer in education at Colorado College.

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  • OCR Can Move Forward With RIFs, Appeals Court Says

    OCR Can Move Forward With RIFs, Appeals Court Says

    The decision comes months after the Supreme Court ruled in a parallel case that the Education Department could move forward with firing nearly half its employees.

    Saul Loeb/AFP via Getty Images

    After months of uncertainty, a federal appeals court ruled Monday that the Education Department can move forward with firing half of the 550 employees at its Office for Civil Rights. 

    In March, the department enacted a reduction-in-force plan to eliminate nearly half of its employees, including 276 at OCR, as part of wider effort to dismantle the 45-year-old agency. Those RIFs prompted multiple lawsuits against the department, including New York v. McMahon and the Victim Rights Law Center v. Department of Education; while the former challenged RIFs across the entire department, the latter case was restricted to the RIFs within OCR. 

    Federal district judges issued injunctions in both cases during the litigation process. Then, in July, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in the McMahon case that the department could proceed with firing half its staff. Despite that ruling, a federal judge in Massachusetts refused to vacate the injunction preventing the department from firing the staff at OCR, arguing that the cases—and therefore their related rulings—remained separate. 

    The government appealed that decision and requested a stay of the RIF injunction. On Monday the United States Court of Appeals for the First Circuit granted that request, giving OCR the green light to fire half its staff.   

    “We note the district court’s careful analysis concluding that the Department’s decision to reduce by half the staff of OCR, a statutorily-created office, imperils Congress’s mandate that OCR ‘enforce federal civil rights laws that ban discrimination based on race, sex, and disability in the public education system,’” the court’s opinion read. “In this stay posture and at this preliminary stage of the litigation, however, we cannot conclude that this case differs enough from McMahon to reach a contrary result to the Supreme Court’s order staying the injunction in McMahon.”

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  • ED Digs Its Heels in Over Student Loan Caps

    ED Digs Its Heels in Over Student Loan Caps

    After two days of talks, Department of Education officials have made it clear that they won’t budge over some new student loan regulations.

    Specifically, the department has said it won’t negotiate its proposed definition of a professional program, at least for now. That definition limits the category to 10 specific degrees, including law, medicine and theology.

    “At this point, we would like to keep the language where it is,” Tamy Abernathy, the department’s director of policy coordination, said Tuesday morning. “It’s not an exhaustive list, but it is fixed at this point in time, with the caveat that if it needs to be negotiated at a future date, it would be.”

    If the department stands firm on this position, dozens of health-care graduate programs, like clinical psychology and occupational therapy, would not be on the list and could be subject to a $20,500 annual cap on student loans. If these programs were to be deemed professional, federal student loans would be capped at $50,000 a year and $200,000 over all. (Graduate programs are capped at $100,000 over all.)

    With a lower cap, the programs could see steep enrollment drops and some might have to close, experts say. But members of the advisory committee tasked to weigh in on the department’s proposals pushed back over the first two days, and some are hopeful that the tone of conversation will shift for the remainder of the week.

    At the very end of Tuesday’s meeting, committee members submitted their own definition for professional programs, which has not been released to the public but will be discussed Wednesday. The committee is scheduled to meet through Friday and then for another week in November before voting on the regulatory changes. If the committee doesn’t reach unanimous consensus, the department can propose its own draft regulations, which will be subject to public comment.

    Education Under Secretary Nicholas Kent said in a statement to Inside Higher Ed shortly after Tuesday’s meeting that the department is continuing to negotiate in good faith but is aiming “to curb excessive graduate student borrowing in the federal student loan program.”

    “At this time, we remain persuaded that limiting the list of eligible programs to those defined in current regulation—while remaining open to expanding that list through future rule making—is the better approach for both students and taxpayers,” Kent said. “We are committed to working with negotiators and the public to hear and thoughtfully consider differing perspectives.”

    This round of rule making is just one part of the department’s larger effort to quickly interpret Congress’s sweeping overhaul of federal student aid through the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which was signed into law in July. When it comes to student loans in particular, ED has to clarify each of the law’s provisions and implement them before the July 1, 2026, deadline.

    Higher ed experts say that heated debate over how to define professional versus graduate programs reflects how the loan caps are likely one of OBBBA’s most consequential changes for the sector.

    The department’s “limited list of programs designated as professional could have big implications for students,” said Karen McCarthy, vice president of public policy for the National Association of Student Financial Aid Administrators. “It could push some students into the private student loan market, which has fewer borrower protections than federal student loans, or limit access for [others] who are unable to obtain private loans. This could lead to lower numbers of graduates in highly critical career fields such as mental health, nursing and education.”

    An Appetite for Change?

    The department’s latest proposal, as of Tuesday, was similar to the existing statutory definition cited by Congress in the new legislation, which says a professional program must prove a student has the skills necessary beyond a bachelor’s degree to pursue a certain licensed profession.

    But the statutory definition from the Higher Education Act of 1965 includes a nonexhaustive list of examples; the department’s proposal is finite. The HEA definition says, “Examples of a professional degree include, but are not limited to,” whereas the department’s proposal says, “These programs are designated as professional” and then lists 10 degrees: in pharmacy, dentistry, medicine, osteopathy, law, optometry, podiatry, veterinary medicine, chiropractic medicine and theology.

    Abernathy explained that despite removing the phrase “including but not limited to,” the department’s proposal is not exhaustive, as it gives the secretary flexibility to designate additional professional degrees through rule making in the future. So while the department does not “have an appetite” to change the definition now, that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be able to later, she said.

    But several committee members were not satisfied with that explanation. Scott Kemp, a student loan advocate for the Virginia higher ed council and the committee member representing state officials, said he came to the table with the understanding that the department was open to changing that list now.

    “We’re already in rule making right now, and there’s an opportunity to do that here,” he said. “I guess the understanding is that that door has been closed. But for our constituents who disagree with this list and have been giving us an earful about it, what would it take to have the secretary designate a rule-making process to discuss the list?”

    Andy Vaughn, president of a for-profit graduate school in California and the representative for proprietary institutions, said that in his view the most “glaring omission” from the list is mental health practitioners.

    “We rarely have a week in our country where some national story about mass violence doesn’t hit our news feeds, and every time that happens, mental health is the foundational, seminal place that we point to,” Vaughn said. “So including mental health license programs—one way or the other—is really critical, because this is going to decimate the pipeline of mental health professionals.”

    In a later interview with Inside Higher Ed, he added that while he agrees the overall price of tuition is too high, it’s “really hard” to get certain high-cost programs, especially those that take three or more years, under the $100,000 limit for programs that are not deemed professional.

    And even if the department were to come back to the table to amend the list at a later date, he believes it would be “too late,” as enrollment for many high-demand programs would have already dramatically declined.

    “It’s hard to say with certainty what exactly happens if professional designation is not granted,” he said. “But I can tell you with certainty it’s not going to increase the pipeline.”

    Vaughn, Scott and eight other committee members representing taxpayers, state officials and various types of universities broke out into a private caucus twice during Tuesday’s meeting to further discuss the definition. By the end of the day, they’d drafted a new proposal that will drive the conversation with department officials tomorrow.

    “The department has said they’re willing to have this conversation, but I believe we must,” Vaughn said.

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  • How can universities win back public support?

    How can universities win back public support?

    This blog outlines a speech given by Professor Sasha Roseneil, Vice-Chancellor and President of the University of Sussex at a HEPI panel at the Labour Party Conference on the 29 September 2025

    ‘How can universities win back public support?’ was the question set for a panel discussion of Vice-Chancellors at the 2025 Labour Party Conference yesterday. But, with all due respect to HEPI’s Director, Nick Hillman, who posed this question, I do not accept its premise.

    There is compelling evidence from multiple sources to suggest that key stakeholders – students, prospective students, parents, and grandparents – are strongly supportive of higher education.

    First and foremost, students are very positive about their experience at university. The overall positivity score in the 2025 National Student Survey, which gathers the opinions of all final year students, was 86%, with 87% of students positive about teaching on their course, and 88% reporting that they felt able to express their ideas, beliefs and opinions at university. All over 85%. And HEPI and Advance HE’s 2025 Student Academic Experience Survey found that, whilst tuition fees are clearly not popular, more students consider that they receive good value for their fees than not – 37% versus 29% feeling that they receive poor value for money.

    Second, young people continue to want to go to university: the number of people applying to university was 1.3% higher for 2025 entry than the year before, with a record number of 18-year-old applicants, and 2% increase on 2024, and a 4.7% increase in the number of 19-year-olds (and only mature student applicants declining).

    And, according to a recent YouGov survey sponsored by University Alliance, members of the public across the political spectrum overwhelmingly want university for their loved ones: 84% of parents and grandparents want their children to go to university, and only 8% are against. Amongst Conservative voters, 90% want their children or grandchildren to go to university, the same as Green voters, slightly higher than the 89% of Labour voters, and slightly lower than the 93% of Liberal Democrat voters, with 72% of Reform voters also wanting their young family members to go to university.

    The YouGov survey didn’t ask why – but I would suggest that it is implicitly understood by members of the public that higher education opens up worlds and improves lives for individuals, and that graduates are generally wealthier over their lifetimes, healthier, and happier than non-graduates. People might not have read David Willetts’ report for the Resolution Foundation but they seem to have tacit knowledge of its findings.

    So where does the idea that universities have lost public support come from?

    Above all, it comes from the media – from a cacophony of newspapers that feed a daily diet of anti-university stories, circulating and recirculating the same ideas. It is my contention that these stories are grounded in one key thing – a more or less explicit rejection of the democratisation and expansion of access to higher education that has taken place over the past twenty years, and that has been part of the wider processes of cultural and social liberalisation and equalisation that have been in train since the late 1960s.

    Steeped in nostalgia for the days when higher education was the preserve of a privately and grammar school educated elite, some newspapers hark back to a time when university guaranteed access to the upper echelons of society. Their view is often based on an implicit understanding of university education as being about the reproduction and transmission of established bodies of knowledge, and thus the wider status quo. From this standpoint, they have waged a long and relentless campaign against universities. Universities are presented as one of the biggest social problems of our time, as the propagators of ‘woke ideologies’, as the source of blame for the reduction in the graduate premium, and for the failure of some graduates to rapidly realise their career or income aspirations.

    Such stories are written by journalists who almost all went to university themselves (although to a limited range of universities) and have children whom they expect to go to a similarly limited range of universities. It is other people’s children going to university that is the problem, taking places away from those who should naturally enter their preferred universities. And it’s the ideas and identities that those young people might encounter, and that they might develop for themselves, at university that  concerns them.

    There were, of course, similar concerns several decades ago about what went on in the new universities that were established in the 1960s – but far fewer young people were exposed to the university experience in those days and it cost the public purse much less to educate them. But perhaps most importantly, the middle class was rapidly expanding and the middle class parents’ ‘fear of falling’ – that their children will not achieve the social and economic status that they have been born into –  was not at all prevalent in the way that it is today.[1]

    Those earlier generations of students were, of course, also much more generously supported in their studies, and therefore much more able to take full advantage of all that higher education had to offer, and much less likely to have to undertake the very significant amount of paid work that today’s students are doing – at very real cost to the time they have for independent study. And they didn’t have to pay the fees that lead to questions about student attitudes to value for money.

    And so there is now a discourse that suffuses public culture that going to university is a waste of time and money, that only some universities are worth going to, and only some courses are worth studying. And, by implication, only some students are worth educating to a higher level. The more young people go to university and the more widespread across society the expectation and desire to go to university, the louder and more vociferous the attacks on higher education.

    The idea that universities lack public support also provides ‘look over here’ distraction from the real problem that faces higher education – an unprecedented funding crisis. Across the country, universities are engaging in repeated rounds of ever deeper cuts, losing thousands – tens of thousands – of highly skilled jobs, and closing courses and departments. There is no national oversight of the impact of this on subject provision across the country, on students’ ability to access higher education in the full range of subjects locally (which impacts disproportionately on students from lower socio-economic backgrounds and from marginalised groups, who are much more likely to study close to home), on regional economies, and on our sovereign capability in critical industries and priority growth areas.

    Last week’s report from the Institute of Physics sounded the alarm bell in relation to the health of this vital, foundational STEM discipline, and the British Academy has done the same for the humanities and the social sciences – particularly modern foreign languages, linguistics, anthropology and classics, with English, history and drama likely to follow soon.

    If this were any other sector in which the UK was an undisputed world leader, and the rapid helter-skelter unplanned contraction which will cause enormous harm to the economies and civic life of cities and regions around the country, there would be stories in the news every day about the crisis. And there would be urgent government action to intervene.

    Instead, universities are lambasted every day in the press and then told by government that we are independent autonomous bodies that need to solve our financial problems ourselves. This is despite the fact that universities are increasingly heavily regulated, and despite our main sources of income being home student fees, which are determined by government, and international student fees, the source of which has been under attack because international students are an easy target in the context of commitments to reduce net migration, and which is further threatened by the imposition of an international student levy.

    The reality is that universities cannot solve our problems ourselves, either individually or collectively. We are all seeking greater efficiencies. We are all looking at how we can cut back on everything that is not absolutely essential to the student experience in the here and now.We are all considering carefully how we might collaborate with others to do more with less. Research is being radically squeezed, and labs and equipment are not being repaired and renewed, in order to try to ensure our financial survival.

    But what now really must be called out is the failure of the competitive quasi-market model under which higher education operates. It is this that is source of our problems, and we need government to act.

    The question then really should be: how can universities win government support to enable us to fulfil our primary purpose of education and research for the common good?

    And the answer to that has to be by means of careful, rational, evidenced argument – with a flourish of rhetoric – of the sort that universities were established to propagate and which is so vital to the future of liberal democracy. We need to articulate and demonstrate our value, our vital importance, and our need for calm, considered and creative policy attention.

    The global excellence of UK universities rests on decades, and in some cases, several centuries, of public investment in knowledge creation and learning for the public good. But that quality is in imminent danger. We urgently need government action to support our universities to continue conducting the world-leading research, catalysing the growth-producing innovation, and providing the transformative education and advanced skills that we are capable of doing – before it is too late.

     There is active, deliberate government-led destruction of higher education and research taking place elsewhere. Don’t let’s do that here too by falling for the idea that the public doesn’t care about universities, and by failing to act in time.

    [1] Ehrenreich, Barbara. Fear of falling: The inner life of the middle class. Twelve, 2020

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  • A Student’s Guide to Success: Six Strategies to Reduce Team Conflict – Faculty Focus

    A Student’s Guide to Success: Six Strategies to Reduce Team Conflict – Faculty Focus

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  • The PM’s announcement on higher level participation is a win for the HE sector

    The PM’s announcement on higher level participation is a win for the HE sector

    You could read “abolishing the 50 per cent participation target” as a vote of no-confidence in higher education, a knee-jerk appeal to culturally conservative working-class voters. But that would be both a political/tactical mistake and a fundamental misreading of the policy landscape.

    To recap: in his leader’s speech to Labour Party Conference on Tuesday, Prime Minister Keir Starmer announced that two thirds of people under 25 should participate in higher level learning, whether in the form of academic, technical, or work-based training, with at least ten per cent pursuing technical education or apprenticeships by 2040.

    So let’s start by acknowledging, as DK does elsewhere on the site, that the 50 per cent participation target has a totemic status in public discourse about higher education that far outweighs its contemporary relevance. And, further, that party conference speeches are a time for broad strokes and vibes-based narrativising for the party faithful, and soundbites for the small segment of the public that is paying attention, not for detailed policy discussions.

    An analysis of Starmer’s speech on Labour List suggests, for example, that the new target signals a decisive break with New Labour, something that most younger voters, including many in the post-compulsory education sector, don’t give the proverbial crap about.

    True North

    What this announcement does is, finally, give the sector something positive to rally around. Universities UK advocated nearly exactly this target in its blueprint for the new government, almost exactly a year ago, suggesting that there should be a target of 70 per cent participation in tertiary education at level four and above by 2040. Setting aside the 3.333 percentage point difference, that’s a win, and a clear vote of confidence in the post-compulsory sector.

    Higher education is slowly recovering from its long-standing case of main character syndrome. Anyone reading the policy runes knows that the direction of travel is towards building a mixed tertiary economy, informed if not actively driven by skills needs data. That approach tallies with broader questions about the costs and financing of dominant models of (residential, full time) higher education, the capacity of the economy to absorb successive cohorts of graduates in ways that meet their expectations, and the problematic political implications of creating a hollowed out labour market in which it it is ever-more difficult to be economically or culturally secure without a degree.

    The difference between the last government and this one is that it’s trying to find a way to critique the equity and sustainability of all this without suggesting that higher education itself is somehow culturally suspect, or some kind of economic Ponzi scheme. Many in the sector have at times in recent years raged at the notion that in order to promote technical and work-based education options you have to attack “university” education. Clearly not only are both important but they are often pretty much the same exact thing.

    What has been missing hitherto, though, is any kind of clear sense from government about what it thinks the solution is. There have been signals about greater coordination, clarification of the roles of different kinds of institution, and some recent signals around the desirability of “specialisation” – and there’s been some hard knocks for higher education providers on funding. None of it adds up to much, with policy detail promised in the forthcoming post-16 education and skills white paper.

    Answers on a postcard

    But now, the essay question is clear: what will it take to deliver two-thirds higher level learning on that scale?

    And to answer that question, you need to look at both supply and demand. On the supply side, there’s indications that the market alone will struggle to deliver the diversity of offer that might be required, particularly where provision is untested, expensive, and risky. Coordination and collaboration could help to address some of those issues by creating scale and pooling risk, and in some areas of the country, or industries, there may be an appetite to start to tackle those challenges spontaneously. However, to achieve a meaningful step change, policy intervention may be required to give providers confidence that developing new provision is not going to ultimately damage their own sustainability.

    But it is on the demand side that the challenge really lies – and it’s worth noting that with nearly a million young people not in education, employment or training, the model in which exam results at age 16 or 18 determine your whole future is, objectively, whack. But you can offer all the tantalising innovative learning opportunities you want, if people feel they can’t afford it, or don’t have the time or energy to invest, or can’t see an outcome, or just don’t think it’ll be that interesting, or have to stop working to access it, they just won’t come. Far more thought has to be given to what might motivate young people to take up education and training opportunities, and the right kind of targeted funding put in place to make that real.

    The other big existential question is scaling work-based education opportunities. Lots of young people are interested in apprenticeships, and lots of higher education providers are keen to offer them; the challenge is about employers being able to accommodate them. It might be about looking to existing practice in teacher education or health education, or about reimagining how work-based learning should be configured and funded, but it’s going to take, probably, industry-specific workforce strategies that are simultaneously very robust on the education and skills needs while being somewhat agnostic on the delivery mechanism. There may need to be a gentle loosening of the conditions on which something is designated an apprenticeship.

    The point is, whatever the optics around “50 per cent participation” this moment should be an invigorating one, causing the sector’s finest minds to focus on what the answer to the question is. This is a sector that has always been in the business of changing lives. Now it’s time to show it can change how it thinks about how to do that.

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  • A quarter of students still drop out – Campus Review

    A quarter of students still drop out – Campus Review

    Some equity student retention rates are trending upwards even though one in four students still drop out of university, new Department of Education data has revealed.

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  • How unis can do more on social media – Campus Review

    How unis can do more on social media – Campus Review

    Too many universities overlook the richness of the human stories that define them, relying instead on polished marketing campaigns and generic social media content to attract the next generation of students.

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