The third layer gives a podcast emotion and the three elements, together, make the sound of a podcast, he said.
“So, it’s not just music,” he said. “These three elements move together during the narration.”
The goal is to combine music and sound effects to create a “rhythm of narration.” After an important word, he might create a pause and in it increase the music. After that, come sound effects.
Caminero wanted to know what Micheli considers when creating music to give a podcast emotion and identity. Micheli said that an important part of the process is to re-listen to what you have done to try to create consistent sound.
“It’s very important because we spend a lot of time on the timeline,” he said. “We work a lot in depth on the details, but at a certain point you have to change your position and change your mind and you have to become not a creator, you have to become a listener.”
You don’t always need to create original music for your podcast soundtrack. Micheli suggests combining original music with music you can find in a sound library, but note that it isn’t easy. “It is quite a job to find the right music, right sound in this gigantic archive and match together original music and other music,” he said. “I think it’s the best way for creating the sound for a podcast.”
Creating original music makes the most sense for podcasts that are documentaries or fiction, Micheli said. But most important is that the podcast must have a good story and script first.
Questions to consider:
1. What does Micheli mean by a “rhythm of narration”?
2. How can you add great sound to a podcast if you can’t compose music yourself?
3. If you were to create a podcast series what would it be about and what kind of sound would you use?
Most law professors face a similar challenge when designing their courses: how to explain to students the enduring gap between what the law says and how it functions in reality. One of the foundational assumptions of legal education is that law is more than just the written rules found in statutes, bills, or constitutions. Without an understanding of how these rules influence a judge’s decision-making, they remain little more than pretty playthings: abstract ideas with no real-world impact. This realist approach in domestic legal education helps bridge the divide between legal theory and practice; the same arguments might apply in most disciplines and fields with a similar divide between theory and practice. If you can examine a rule and confidently predict how it will be applied, you are engaging in the most basic form of legal research. But consider a legal system without a centralised rule-making authority or a single, binding interpreter – no supreme legislature or final court to settle disputes definitively. This is the reality of international law. While there are many judicial and quasi-judicial bodies, there is no universal, mandatory forum for resolving disputes, and most conflicts never reach a formal judgment. Instead, states, international organizations, and individuals all contribute to shaping the rules by advocating for their preferred interpretations, hoping to sway the broader consensus. International lawyers refer to this evolving consensus as the ‘invisible college of international lawyers’, a term that captures the discipline’s informal, socially constructed boundaries. In essence, international law is what international lawyers do.
Teaching international law, then, comes with an added layer of complexity: the lack of formal structures undermines legal certainty. Every international lawyer, to some degree, can influence the field. Through journal articles, blog posts, social media debates, or legal practice, they argue for their version of the correct interpretation of a rule. Academics may even challenge established meanings, making persuasive cases that defy the literal text of foundational documents like the UN Charter.
Yet teaching international law does not require taking a stance on the theory-practice divide, because that divide is not inherent to the discipline. Law professors are not bound by the same rigid distinctions as, say, natural scientists, who must separate theoretical models from empirical observation. Instead, legal education can bypass this dichotomy entirely by focusing on the deeper conditions that shape how we understand both theory and practice. Rather than treating practice as a constraint on theory, students can learn to apply theoretical insights pragmatically. This approach allows law schools to teach practical skills without forcing an artificial separation between legal thought and legal action, following larger trends in pedagogical training outside legal academia.
Still, many international law professors struggle with curriculum design because of these perceived divides. On one hand, students must master a baseline of doctrinal knowledge to enter legal practice. On the other, mere knowledge acquisition is not enough – students must also develop the ability to analyse, synthesise, and critically evaluate legal arguments. A well-rounded legal education should cultivate these higher-order skills, enabling students to engage in meta-cognitive reflection about the law they are learning.
Moreover, there is no strong evidence that ‘thinking like a lawyer’ is a unique cognitive skill. Legal reasoning shares much with other forms of reasoning, meaning that better teaching methods alone will not necessarily produce better lawyers. Instead, what matters is equipping students with evaluative tools to interpret and refine legal arguments. By treating core legal knowledge as a foundation rather than a rigid boundary, and critical thinking as a method for engaging with that knowledge, the supposed divide between mainstream and critical approaches begins to fade.
The same logic applies to the theory-practice debate. The tension between these approaches persists only if we assume they are mutually exclusive. Law schools often face criticism from practitioners who argue that graduates lack practical skills, while academics defend the importance of theoretical training. But must these roles be in conflict?
Perhaps the real issue in international law is not the existence of these divides, but our insistence on treating them as inevitable. If there is little evidence that ‘thinking like a lawyer’ is a distinct cognitive skill, there is even less reason to impose it as a rigid framework for international legal education. Instead, we might focus on cultivating adaptable, reflective practitioners who can navigate both theory and practice – not as opposing forces, but as complementary dimensions of the same discipline. This is a lesson relevant for many if not all professional disciplines.
Sebastian Machado Ramírez is Postdoctoral Researcher at the University of Helsinki, where he works on the PRIVIGO project examining private governance and international law. He holds a PhD from the University of Melbourne, where his dissertation analyzed interpretive approaches in the law governing the use of force.
Paolo Amorosa is University Lecturer in International Law at the University of Helsinki. He holds a PhD from the same institution and specializes in the history and theory of international law and human rights. His monograph Rewriting the History of the Law of Nations (OUP 2019) critically re-examines the ideological foundations of international law’s canon.
I knew taking a central office role meant trading the school building for a district badge. I knew the days would be filled with policy, meetings, and personnel issues. What I didn’t know was how much I would miss morning announcements, front office chatter, and the small but sacred chaos of classroom life.
When I accepted my central office role at Knox County Schools nearly three years ago, I heard words of congratulations and encouragement, and a lot of “You’ll be great at this.” What I didn’t hear was, “You’re going to miss the cafeteria noise” or “You’ll feel phantom pain for your walkie and reach for it like it’s still there.” No one warned me I’d find myself lingering too long during school visits, trying to feel like I still belong.
What I lost wasn’t just proximity; it was identity.
As a principal, I was part of everything. Students shouted greetings across the parking lot. Parents stopped me in the grocery store to ask about bus routes or share weekend news. Teachers popped into my office with questions or just to drop off a piece of cake from the lounge. I wasn’t above the work. I was in it. I was woven into the messy, beautiful rhythm of a school day.
Shifting to the central office changed not just the pace of my day, but the feel of the work. The space was quieter, the communication more deliberate. There are no morning announcements. No car rider line and morning high-fives from kids. No spontaneous TikTok dances during class change. I moved from the rhythm of a living, breathing school to a place where school leadership feels more technical, more filtered, and more removed.
The relationships changed, too. As a principal, you’re not just part of a team; you’re a part of a family. You laugh together, carry each other’s burdens, and share both the stress and the wins. Move into a district role, and you’re now “from downtown,” even if your heart still lives on campus. You walk into buildings with a badge that means something different, and the conversations shift just enough for you to notice.
None of this means the central office work doesn’t matter. It does. Or that I don’t love it. I do. Central office work gives me a systems-level view of how our schools function. I find purpose in improving not just individual outcomes, but the structures that guide them.
Still, the change in relational gravity caught me off guard. And once the initial disorientation passed, it left me with a deeper concern: How will I stay connected to how the work is actually experienced and carried out in schools if I’m no longer living in it each day?
At first, I told myself it was just a learning curve, that it would pass, that I’d find new rhythms soon enough. And I did — but not before realizing that central office leadership requires a different kind of muscle. One I hadn’t needed before.
As a principal, I lived in fast feedback loops. I saw the effects of my decisions by lunchtime. I knew which teachers were having a hard week, which student needed extra eyes, which parent was about to call. Even hard conversations came with a certain clarity because I was close to the context and knew the culture I wanted to build.
At the district level, the impact is broader but harder to track. The wins take longer to see. The feedback is quieter.
I had to become more intentional about noticing what I could no longer see. That meant listening differently during school visits, paying closer attention to what leaders were navigating, and asking better questions. Not just about what was happening, but what it was costing them to make it happen.
One of the advantages of working at a systems level is being able to recognize patterns across multiple settings. They can reveal root causes that individual concerns might never expose. That clarity opens the door to more aligned, lasting support.
I began thinking less about whether expectations were clear and more about whether they were sustainable. My role was not to direct the work but to support the people carrying it out.
These changes didn’t come naturally. They came because I didn’t want to become a leader who made good decisions in theory but stayed out of touch in practice. I didn’t want to lead by spreadsheet, even though color-coded tabs bring me great joy. I wanted to lead by understanding.
Eventually, I began to see that even though I was no longer in the thick of the school day, I could still choose to stay connected — to show up, to ask real questions, to build trust not just through policy, but through presence.
The classroom educators and school leaders I supported didn’t need someone who had knowledge of what it was like to be a teacher or principal. They needed someone who remembered what it felt like to be one. Someone who hadn’t forgotten the rush of the morning bell or the weight of a tough parent meeting or the impossible feeling of juggling school culture, teacher evaluations, instructional priorities, and a leaky roof all before noon.
I think back often to my first year in central office. The silence. The absence of bells and kids and chaos. The invisible weight of missing something no one warned me I would lose. I remember walking through a school one afternoon and instinctively reaching for my walkie talkie. It wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t there. But the reflex reminded me of something important: I still wanted to be tuned in.
Leadership doesn’t have to grow lonelier as it grows broader. But staying connected takes intention. It takes habits, not just memories.
I didn’t expect to grieve. But I’m grateful I did. Because grief has a way of reminding you what still deserves your presence.
Chalkbeat is a nonprofit news site covering educational change in public schools.
Dr. Meagan Booth is a former high school principal and current human resources supervisor for Knox County Schools. Her work focuses on how school systems can better support educators through the lens of retention, culture, and generational dynamics.
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In 2025, schools are sitting on more data than ever before. Student records, attendance, health information, behavioral logs, and digital footprints generated by edtech tools have turned K-12 institutions into data-rich environments. As artificial intelligence becomes a central part of the learning experience, these data streams are being processed in increasingly complex ways. But with this complexity comes a critical question: Are schools doing enough to protect that data?
The answer, in many cases, is no.
The rise of shadow AI
According to CoSN’s May 2025State of EdTech District Leadership report, a significant portion of districts, specifically 43 percent, lack formal policies or guidance for AI use. While 80 percent of districts have generative AI initiatives underway, this policy gap is a major concern. At the same time,Common Sense Media’s Teens, Trust and Technology in the Age of AI highlights that many teens have been misled by fake content and struggle to discern truth from misinformation, underscoring the broad adoption and potential risks of generative AI.
This lack of visibility and control has led to the rise of what many experts call “shadow AI”: unapproved apps and browser extensions that process student inputs, store them indefinitely, or reuse them to train commercial models. These tools are often free, widely adopted, and nearly invisible to IT teams. Shadow AI expands the district’s digital footprint in ways that often escape policy enforcement, opening the door to data leakage and compliance violations. CoSN’s 2025 report specifically notes that “free tools that are downloaded in an ad hoc manner put district data at risk.”
Data protection: The first pillar under pressure
TheU.S. Department of Education’s AI Toolkit for Schools urges districts to treat student data with the same care as medical or financial records. However, many AI tools used in classrooms today are not inherently FERPA-compliant and do not always disclose where or how student data is stored. Teachers experimenting with AI-generated lesson plans or feedback may unknowingly input student work into platforms that retain or share that data. In the absence of vendor transparency, there is no way to verify how long data is stored, whether it is shared with third parties, or how it might be reused. FERPA requires that if third-party vendors handle student data on behalf of the institution, they must comply with FERPA. This includes ensuring data is not used for unintended purposes or retained for AI training.
Some tools, marketed as “free classroom assistants,” require login credentials tied to student emails or learning platforms. This creates additional risks if authentication mechanisms are not protected or monitored. Even widely-used generative tools may include language in their privacy policies allowing them to use uploaded content for system training or performance optimization.
Data processing and the consent gap
Generative AI models are trained on large datasets, and many free tools continue learning from user prompts. If a student pastes an essay or a teacher includes student identifiers in a prompt, that information could enter a commercial model’s training loop. This creates a scenario where data is being processed without explicit consent, potentially in violation of COPPA (Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act) and FERPA. While theFTC’s December 2023 update to the COPPA Rule did not codify school consent provisions, existing guidance still allows schools to consent to technology use on behalf of parents in educational contexts. However, the onus remains on schools to understand and manage these consent implications, especially with the rule’s new amendments becoming effective June 21, 2025, which strengthen protections and require separate parental consent for third-party disclosures for targeted advertising.
Moreover, many educators and students are unaware of what constitutes “personally identifiable information” (PII) in these contexts. A name combined with a school ID number, disability status, or even a writing sample could easily identify a student, especially in small districts. Without proper training, well-intentioned AI use can cross legal lines unknowingly.
Cybersecurity risks multiply
AI tools have also increased the attack surface of K-12 networks. According toThreatDown’s 2024 State of Ransomware in Education report, ransomware attacks on K-12 schools increased by 92 percent between 2022 and 2023, with 98 total attacks in 2023. This trend is projected to continue as cybercriminals use AI to create more targeted phishing campaigns and detect system vulnerabilities faster. AI-assisted attacks can mimic human language and tone, making them harder to detect. Some attackers now use large language models to craft personalized emails that appear to come from school administrators.
Many schools lack endpoint protection for student devices, and third-party integrations often bypass internal firewalls. Free AI browser extensions may collect keystrokes or enable unauthorized access to browser sessions. The more tools that are introduced without IT oversight, the harder it becomes to isolate and contain incidents when they occur. CoSN’s 2025 report indicates that 60 percent of edtech leaders are “very concerned about AI-enabled cyberattacks,” yet 61 percent still rely on general funds for cybersecurity efforts, not dedicated funding.
Building a responsible framework
To mitigate these risks, school leaders need to:
Audit tool usage using platforms likeLightspeed Digital Insight to identify AI tools being accessed without approval. Districts should maintain a living inventory of all digital tools. Lightspeed Digital Insight, for example, is vetted by 1EdTech for data privacy.
Develop and publish AI use policies that clarify acceptable practices, define data handling expectations, and outline consequences for misuse. Policies should distinguish between tools approved for instructional use and those requiring further evaluation.
Train educators and students to understand how AI tools collect and process data, how to interpret AI outputs critically, and how to avoid inputting sensitive information. AI literacy should be embedded in digital citizenship curricula, with resources available from organizations like Common Sense Media andaiEDU.
Vet all third-party apps through standards like the1EdTech TrustEd Apps program. Contracts should specify data deletion timelines and limit secondary data use. The TrustEd Apps program has vetted over 12,000 products, providing a valuable resource for districts.
Simulate phishing attacks and test breach response protocols regularly. Cybersecurity training should be required for staff, and recovery plans must be reviewed annually.
Trust starts with transparency
In the rush to embrace AI, schools must not lose sight of their responsibility to protect students’ data and privacy. Transparency with parents, clarity for educators, and secure digital infrastructure are not optional. They are the baseline for trust in the age of algorithmic learning.
AI can support personalized learning, but only if we put safety and privacy first. The time to act is now. Districts that move early to build policies, offer training, and coordinate oversight will be better prepared to lead AI adoption with confidence and care.
Rishi Raj Gera, Magic Edtech
Rishi Raj Gera is the Chief Solutions Officer at Magic Edtech. Rishi brings over two decades of experience in designing digital learning systems that sit at the intersection of accessibility, personalization, and emerging technology. His work is driven by a consistent focus on building educational systems that adapt to individual learner needs while maintaining ethical boundaries and equity in design. Rishi continues to advocate for learning environments that are as human-aware as they are data-smart, especially in a time when technology is shaping how students engage with knowledge and one another.
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Greed is no longer a sin in America—it’s a system. It’s a curriculum. It’s a badge of success. In the American higher education marketplace, greed is not the exception. It’s the norm.
We see it in the bloated salaries of university presidents who deliver austerity to everyone but themselves. We see it in billion-dollar endowments hoarded like dragon’s gold while students drown in debt. We see it in the metastasizing ranks of middlemen—consultants, online program managers, enrollment optimization firms—who profit off the dreams and desperation of working-class families.
But greed in American higher education is more than a few bad actors or golden parachutes. It is institutionalized, normalized, and weaponized.
The Student as Customer, the Campus as Marketplace
It began with the rebranding of education as a “return on investment,” a transaction rather than a transformation. The purpose of college was no longer to liberate the mind but to monetize the degree.
By the 1990s, under bipartisan neoliberal consensus, public colleges were defunded and forced to adopt the private sector’s logic: cut costs, raise prices, sell more. Tuition rose. Debt exploded. The ranks of administrators swelled while faculty were downsized and adjunctified. The market had spoken.
But even that wasn’t enough. A generation of edu-preneurs emerged—Silicon Valley-funded disruptors, for-profit college chains, and online program managers—who turned learning into a scalable commodity. Robocolleges like Southern New Hampshire University, Purdue Global, and the University of Phoenix began operating more like tech platforms than institutions of thought.
The result? Diploma mills at the front end and collection agencies at the back.
Greed in the Name of God and Country
Greed doesn’t always look like Wall Street. Sometimes it wears the face of morality. Religious colleges, some of them under the protection of nonprofit status, have become breeding grounds for political operatives and ideological grooming—while raking in millions through taxpayer-funded financial aid.
Liberty University, Grand Canyon University, and a host of lesser-known Bible colleges operate under a warped theology of prosperity, turning salvation into a subscription plan. Meanwhile, they push anti-democratic ideologies and funnel money toward political causes far removed from the mission of education.
Accreditation as a Shell Game
The accreditors—the supposed watchdogs of educational quality—have been largely asleep at the wheel or complicit. When greed is the norm, accountability is an inconvenience. For-profit schools regularly reinvent themselves as nonprofits. Online program managers operate in regulatory gray zones. Mergers and acquisitions disguise collapse as growth.
Accreditation agencies rubber-stamp it all, as long as the paperwork is tidy and the lobbyists are well-compensated.
Debt as Discipline
More than 43 million Americans carry federal student loan debt. Many will never escape it. This debt is not just financial—it’s ideological. It keeps the workforce compliant. It disciplines dissent. It renders critical thought a luxury.
And those who push for debt relief? They are met with moral lectures about personal responsibility—from the same lawmakers who handed trillions to banks, defense contractors, and fossil fuel companies.
Silicon Valley’s Hungry Mouth
The new frontier of greed is AI. Tech giants like Google, Amazon Web Services, and Meta are embedding themselves deeper into education—not to empower learning, but to extract data, monetize behavior, and deepen surveillance. Every click, every quiz, every attendance record is a monetizable moment.
Universities, starved for funding and afraid of obsolescence, are selling access to students in exchange for access to cloud infrastructure and algorithmic tools they barely understand.
Greed Isn’t Broken—It’s Working as Designed
In this system, who wins? Not students. Not faculty. Not society.
The winners are those who turn knowledge into a commodity, compliance into virtue, and inequality into inevitability. Those who build castles from the bones of public education, then retreat behind walls of donor-backed endowments and think tanks. The winners are few. But they write the rules.
A Different Future Is Possible
If American greed is the norm, then what remains of education’s soul must be found in the margins—in the community college professor working three jobs. In the librarian defending open access. In the adjunct organizing a union. In the students refusing to be pawns in someone else’s game.
The antidote to greed is not charity—it’s solidarity.
Until justice is funded as well as football. Until learning is valued more than branding. Until access is more than a talking point on a donor brochure—then greed will remain not just a sin, but a system.
Sources
U.S. Department of Education, National Center for Education Statistics
The Century Foundation, “The OPM Industry: Profits Over Students” (2023)
Chronicle of Higher Education, “Administrative Bloat and the Adjunct Crisis”
IRS Nonprofit Filings, Liberty University and Grand Canyon University
Debt Collective, “The State of Student Debt” (2025)
Public records and audits of Title IV institutions, 2022–2024
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In early June, the governing board of Florida’s university system surprised the higher education sector when it rejected Santa Ono as the sole finalist for the presidency of the University of Florida.Ono had faced backlash — led by conservative activist Christopher Rufo — over his past embrace of diversity, equity and inclusion efforts while head of the University of Michigan.
Later that month, University of Virginia President Jim Ryan abruptly stepped down after the U.S. Department of Justice pressured him to resign over the institution’s diversity efforts.Ryan said he wouldn’t fight to keep his job when staying would have cost the institution research funding and student aid and hurt international students.
The duties of the modern college president extend far beyond keeping their institutions viable. For decades, how the head of a college is selected and who fills the position has been steadily shifting. Now, whoever assumes the role will likely take vitriol from both the public and policymakers.
James Finkelstein, professor emeritus at George Mason University’s public policy school, researches leadership in higher education. We spoke with him about the changing role of the college president, the increased influence a presidency faces from both the political and private sectors and what that means for higher ed in the long run.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
HIGHER ED DIVE: How does one become a college president? And has that changed in recent decades?
James Finkelstein, professor emeritus at George Mason University
Permission granted by Judith Wilde
JAMES FINKELSTEIN:The traditional route would start with becoming an assistant professor. You get tenure next, and then you may start to move up the administrative ranks. The most common path was to go from provost to president. For now, that’s still the most common path, but it’s on the decline.
The problem is, provosts don’t fundraise. Deans do. And the No. 1 qualification that a board now looks for in a university president is their ability to raise money.
Given that shift in priorities, how do college boards pick their institution’s next presidents?
My colleague, Judith Wilde, and I have studied this process extensively, and boards are increasingly relying on executive search firms.
We found that only 2% or 3% of presidential classified ads mentioned a search firm in 1975. Today, it’s almost 100%. And based on the data, that change has also correlated with the beginning of the decline in the length of university presidents’ tenure.
Search firms do the initial screening and determine for the board which candidates are really viable. But very few of the search firm senior executives have any real experience in higher education and their No. 1 responsibility as fiduciaries is to return profit to investors.
From there, the board picks from the candidates highlighted by the search firm? What do they look for?
Yes. People tend to look for candidates who look like them. And boards are not primarily made up of academics — the only thing most board members know about a university is that they got a degree from one. You’re seeing a lot more political types on the boards, as is the case in Virginia, or corporate types.
It’s interesting, corporations don’t turn to universities for their leadership. They don’t select a college president to run them. The former president of TIAA [Clifton Wharton Jr.] was the only university president to become a CEO of a Fortune 500 company — and he led a company designed to serve universities.
But many universities, at least 10% or so, will select a corporate executive to lead them.
If boards expect university presidents to behave more like corporate executives than leaders of an educational, social and cultural institution — someone who serves the public — then the next generation of university leadership is going to look very different. You’re going to see a different kind of person be not only sought after but interested in these jobs because they think they can take their private sector skill set directly into higher ed.
In recent years, the presidential compensation packages at some colleges have mirrored those of Fortune 500 CEOs. In 2022, Ben Sasse received a notably lucrative package when he was hired to lead the University of Florida, as you and Judith have discussed. What effect does that shift have on colleges?
When I was an undergraduate, the university president probably wore a tweed sport coat with leather patches on the elbows. And the patches weren’t there to make a style statement; it’s because the elbows were worn out. If he had a car — and it was far and away “he” when I was in school — it was a car from the university’s car pool that was several years old.
And in the past, presidents maintained some academic interests. They taught. They were visible on campus.
Now, university presidents drive expensive cars and are more likely to associate with people outside the university than faculty inside the university.
Our sector does not enjoy the reputation with the public that it used to. There are all sorts of questions now about the value of a college degree. People generally think faculty get paid a lot of money and don’t do very much.
More than anything, presidents today are facing the question of if there is a way to win back that trust.
While college presidents are grappling with that question, though, they are also watching their positions become increasingly precarious. One recent example is Santa Ono, who had been set up as Sasse’s replacement. Traditionally, the vote from the Florida universities’ governing board would have been pro forma. What shifted the tides and left Ono out of a job?
Ono was targeted by the Chris Rufo machine. You can go back and read Rufo’s interview with Politico and listen to his interview with The New York Times — he’s very public about his strategy to delegitimize leaders in higher ed. His team made a decision early on that they wanted one of their own in Florida. And Ono wasn’t it.
Having watched the entire governing board meeting in Florida, my professional assessment is that I’ve never seen a president or someone of Ono’s stature so ill-prepared and give so poor a performance on every level.
Whoever prepared him, didn’t. And if they did, they weren’t preparing him for the right thing. It was much like what happened to the college presidents who testified at congressional committee hearings. Ono wasn’t completely prepared that he was going to be essentially cross-examined by a former state legislator.
By that point, Ono had already announced his departure from the University of Michigan, leaving a highly debated track record on diversity efforts and the handling of student protests in his wake. Does he stand a chance of getting another job heading a university?
About 75% of presidents are what we call one-and-done — they report they’ll hold one presidency, and that’s more than enough. The Gordon Gees of the world are the exception, not the rule.
Ono was, in my view, the modern-day equivalent of [former West Virginia University President] Gordon Gee. He’s the professional president who developed a public persona. He developed it at the University of Cincinnati, refined it at the University of British Columbia, and then brought it to Michigan.
But I’ve talked to people at Cincinnati and Michigan. The truth of the matter is, he wasn’t well-thought of by the faculty. And he burned out very quickly in Michigan.
Ono shouldn’t be the model for the modern university president. Personally, I don’t think that he’s going to get another presidency after the Florida situation, at least not for a while.
Is the role of president still a consequential one? Do the heads of colleges wield influence in the same way they have in the past?
Who the president is makes a difference. They set the tone of the institution in many ways. But presidents today can exercise less independent leadership than they did in the past — they’re being put on a shorter and shorter leash.
There are so many different constituencies that they’re having to serve, and a lot of those constituencies are in conflict with each other.
Some presidents are engaging in what people call anticipatory compliance.
“In order to avoid these conflicts,” the thinking goes, “I’m going to get one step ahead.” Sadly, what that means is that when the board intervenes, they want even more.
Is there a world where that kind of interference becomes so unpleasant that it renders the job unpalatable?
I think for many serious potential candidates, the answer is yes. It doesn’t matter whether you’re being paid $1 million. Or if you have two country club memberships, a big car, a big house and staff, and all of that. These jobs have always been 24/7, 365. And the scrutiny is exponentially worse now.
The real question is: Who’s going to want these jobs? That’s part of the plan of critics of higher education. They want to drive people out so they can replicate what they’re doing in Florida and appoint political loyalists who have no experience in higher education.
Even though conservatives are critical of what they see as judicial activism, they have been extraordinarily active on college boards, working to influence curriculum and promotions and tenure.
The current climate changes things for all trustees, even those who don’t align with this thinking. Regardless of their backgrounds, no board will want to appoint a president who is going to put at risk all of their research funding. And the Trump administration has shown that it is willing to use any lever it has to bring these institutions under its thumb. Look how quickly Jim Ryan was gone from UVA.
As you mentioned, presidents are serving increasingly shorter tenures, instead of holding the position for life, or at least until retirement. Beyond a loss of leadership consistency, does this turnover hurt colleges?
Take Jim Ryan as an example. He’s 58 years old.
I assume the terms of his contract were renegotiated when he left, but based on my analysis of his 2022 contract, the university has a future liability of almost $17 million to him. He would actuarially retire from teaching in 15 years, and in 2038, his base salary would be over $1 million a year for teaching at most two courses a semester.
The people who are actually doing most of the teaching at UVA in 2038 won’t be tenured or tenure track. They will be contingent faculty who are barely able to scrape together a living.
If you put $10 million in a scholarship fund at UVA, would that be a better investment than keeping Ryan on the faculty? The answer is a no-brainer.
Defending academic freedom is an all-hands-on-deck emergency. From the current administration’s scrutiny of (and executive orders related to) higher education, to state legislative overreach and on-campus bad actors, threats to academic freedom are myriad and dire.
As leader of a program focused on free expression and academic freedom, I see faculty and campus leaders who are flummoxed about how to respond: Where to begin? What can be done to make a difference in defending academic freedom?
I have an answer, at least if you’re graduate faculty, a dean or director of graduate studies, or a provost: Make a plan to prepare graduate students—tomorrow’s professors—to defend academic freedom.
Graduate students often feel too pressed to focus on anything other than their coursework or dissertation and so are unlikely to study academic freedom on their own, even if they know where to find solid information. It is incumbent on faculty to put academic freedom in front of graduate students as a serious and approachable topic. If their professors and directors of graduate study do not teach them about academic freedom, they will be ill prepared to confront academic freedom issues when they arise, as they surely will, especially in today’s climate.
An example: When I met with advanced graduate students at an R-1 university, one student recounted an experience as a junior team member reviewing submissions for a journal. He reported that another team member argued for rejecting a manuscript because its findings could be used to advance a public policy position favored by some politicians that this colleague opposed. The student was rightly troubled about political factors being weighed along with methodology and scholarship but reported he didn’t have the knowledge or confidence to respond effectively. Bottom line: His graduate school preparation had incompletely prepared him to understand and act on academic freedom principles.
Here is a summer action plan for graduate faculty, deans and provosts to ensure we don’t leave the next generation of scholars uncertain about academic freedom principles and how they apply in teaching, scholarship and extracurricular settings.
Add an academic freedom session to orientation. Orientation for matriculating graduate students is a can’t-miss chance to begin education about academic freedom.
Patrick Kain, associate professor of philosophy at Purdue University, provides a primer on graduate students’ academic freedom rights and responsibilities during his department’s graduate student orientation. His session covers the First Amendment, state law and campus policies. He provides written guidance about what to do, especially in their roles as teaching assistants (“pay attention to the effects of your expression on others”); what not to do (“don’t compel speech”); and what they should expect (“students’ experiences and sensitivity to others’ expression will vary”).
Reflecting on his experiences leading these orientation sessions, Kain said, “Graduate students, especially those joining us from quite different cultures and institutions, really appreciate a clear explanation of the ground rules of academic freedom and free expression on campus.” He added, “It puts them at ease to be able to imagine how they can pursue their own work with integrity in these trying times, and what they can expect from others when disagreements arise.”
However, orientation cannot be a “one and done” for a topic as complex as academic freedom. Additional steps to take this summer include:
Revisit the professional development seminar. Most graduate students take a professional development seminar before preliminary exams. When I took that seminar three decades ago, academic freedom wasn’t a topic—and my inquiries suggest academic freedom hasn’t been added to many professional development seminars since. This must change. In addition to sessions on writing a publishable article and giving a job talk, include sessions on the history and norms of academic freedom and free inquiry. Assign foundational academic freedom documents, such as the American Association of University Professors’ 1940 Statement on the Principles of Academic Freedom and Tenure and the 1967 Joint Statement on Rights and Freedoms of Students, alongside a text offering an overview of academic freedom principles, such as Henry Reichman’s Understanding Academic Freedom (Johns Hopkins Press, 2025).
Schedule an academic freedom workshop. Graduate students at all stages—and your faculty colleagues, too!—can benefit from stand-aloneworkshops. Include tabletop exercises that allow students to appreciate nuances of academic freedom principles. For example, tabletop exercises let students test possible responses to a peer who is putting a thumb on the scale against publishing a manuscript submission on nonacademic grounds, to department colleagues who are exerting pressure on them to sign a joint statement with which they disagree or to administrators bowing inappropriately to donor wishes or political pressures. The reports of the Council of Independent Colleges’ Academic Leaders Task Force on Campus Free Expression include ready-for-use tabletop exercises.
Bolster classroom training for teaching assistants. Professors with teaching assistants can provide an insider’s look into their process for designing a course and planning class meetings, with a focus on how they build trust and incorporate divergent viewpoints, and their approach to teaching potentially controversial topics. In weekly TA meetings, professors and TAs can debrief about what worked to foster robust discussion and what didn’t. Centers for teaching and learning can equip graduate students with strategies that build their confidence for leading discussions, including strategies to uphold free expression and inclusive values when a student speaks in ways that others think is objectionable or violates inclusion norms. The University of Michigan’s Center for Research on Learning and Teaching offers programs tailored to graduate students and postdocs, including a teaching orientation program.
Look for opportunities to provide mentorship. An academic career isn’t only about teaching and scholarship but also entails serving on department and university committees, providing—and being subject to—peer review, and planning conferences. Academic freedom questions come up with regularity during these activities. Graduate faculty serve asmentors and should be alert to opportunities to discuss these questions. One idea: Take a “ripped from the headlines” controversy about journal retractions, viral faculty social media posts or how universities are responding to Trump administration pressures and plan a brown-bag lunch discussion with graduate students.
Take the next step in rethinking graduate student preparation. While the steps above can be taken this summer, with a longer planning horizon, it is possible to rethink graduate preparation for a changed higher education landscape. Morgan State University, a public HBCU in Maryland, offers Morgan’s Structured Teaching Assistant Program (MSTAP), an award-winning course series to prepare graduate students as teachers. Mark Garrison, who as dean of the School of Graduate Studies led the development of MSTAP, explained, “In our required coursework for teaching assistants, we are intensely focused on establishing ground rules for TAs” around how to guide “student engagement that is accepting and encouraging without the intrusion of the TA’s personal views.”
Garrison added, “This makes free expression a component of instruction that must be cherished and nourished. We cannot assume that the novice instructor will come to this view naturally, and we do our best to embrace a reflective teaching model.”
Academic freedom is under threat. As Mary Clark, provost and executive vice chancellor at the University of Denver, observed, “Graduate students are developing identities as scholars, learning what academic freedom means in their research and in the classroom—and how their scholarly identity intersects with their extracurricular speech as citizens and community members. It is critical that we support them in developing these understandings.” This summer is the time to plan to do exactly that.
Jacqueline Pfeffer Merrill is senior director of the Civic Learning and Free Expression Projects at the Council of Independent Colleges.
Federal officials are accusing Duke University’s law journal and medical school of racial discrimination.
Duke University file photo
The Departments of Education and Health and Human Services are investigating Duke University and the Duke Law Journal for allegedly violating Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which bars discrimination based on race and national origin, the agencies announced Monday.
The New York Timesreported Tuesday night that the Trump administration froze $108 million in federal grants and contracts at Duke’s medical school and health system.
On Monday, ED and HHS sent a letter detailing their concerns about potentially discriminatory practices at Duke Health and threatening the medical school’s federal funding.
“These practices allegedly include illegal and wrongful racial preferences and discriminatory activity in recruitment, student admissions, scholarships and financial aid, mentoring and enrichment programs, hiring, promotion, and more,” the letter states, though officials didn’t offer specifics.
The departments want Duke to “review all policies and practices at Duke Health for the illegal use of race preferences, take immediate action to reform all of those that unlawfully take account of race or ethnicity to bestow benefits or advantages, and provide clear and verifiable assurances to the government that Duke’s new policies will be implemented faithfully going forward—including by making all necessary organizational, leadership, and personnel changes to ensure the necessary reforms will be durable.”
Additionally, the agencies want Duke to convene a “Merit and Civil Rights Committee” that can negotiate with the federal government on behalf of university leaders and “avoid invasive federal engagement,” according to the letter. This request appears to be a new ask for the Trump administration as officials work to expand their scrutiny of higher education, based on what’s publicly known about investigations at other colleges.
“We hope this arrangement will enable the parties to move quickly toward a mutually agreeable resolution of outstanding concerns and complaints,” officials wrote in the letter. “If the alleged offending policies, practices, and programs are found to exist and remain unrectified after six months, or if at any time the Merit and Civil Rights Committee and federal government reach an impasse, the federal government will commence enforcement proceedings as appropriate.”
Duke has 10 days to respond to the request to form the committee.
Meanwhile, the Duke Law Journal investigation, led by the Education Department’s Office for Civil Rights, centers on allegations that the journal uses factors such as race or national origin to select editors. The department opened a similar investigation into the Harvard Law Review.
The Washington Free Beacon, a conservative news outlet, reported last month that the Duke Law Journal prepared a special application packet for affinity groups that noted applicants could get a three- to five-point bump if they have “meaningfully advanced the interests of communities with diverse perspectives and experiences either at school or in their community.”
NATIONAL HARBOR, Md.—Just outside of Washington, D.C., across the Potomac River, Capitol Hill cast a shadow over the annual meeting of the National Association of College and University Business Officers, where concerns over federal funding and policy changes were palpable among attendees.
At panels and in side conversations during the three-day meeting, held at the sprawling Gaylord National Resort and Convention Center, attendees swapped strategies, drilled into pressing issues and commiserated over pressures on the sector wrought by both the political environment and a business model that is strained in many places. Representatives of a diverse mix of institutions from across the nation attended, but common challenges emerged: They worry about the impact of looming federal policy changes, which they expect to add pressure to institutions already grappling with financial challenges related to enrollment declines, high tuition discount rates and other issues.
Here’s a recap of themes and moments that emerged from the conference.
‘Fear, Anxiety and Contempt’
At a packed panel covering recent activity out of Washington, NACUBO vice president for policy and research Liz Clark noted the strains business officers are feeling amid a “tumultuous year” marked by a flurry of federal actions, including the passage of the so-called One Big Beautiful Bill Act, pushed by President Donald Trump, which included various provisions for higher education.
The legislation, signed earlier this month, caps some student loans while eliminating the Grad PLUS program, limits repayment options and requires programs to pass an earnings test for attendees to access federal student loans, among other provisions, including changes to the endowment tax. Passed on a partisan line with Republicans under pressure to deliver Trump’s signature legislation, Clark noted it is just one action—albeit a significant one—that has reshaped higher education this year.
Clark added that 2025 has “brought a lot of fear, anxiety and contempt” as colleges navigate restrictions on diversity, equity and inclusion programs; cancellation of federal grants and contracts; and various state laws that have “created a challenging environment” for the sector.
“I feel like we have, this year, been dealing with everything, everywhere, all at once,” Clark said.
Clark noted that despite the concerns she highlighted, the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which she abbreviated “Bubba,” and other policies that were proposed could have hit higher education much harder. One example she offered was the endowment tax, which in the final bill fell far short of what House Republicans initially proposed.
But in another panel on tax reform, Clark suggested that the endowment tax could still be revised in ways that resemble earlier proposals and would have affected more universities and at higher rates.
“Don’t forget that ideas never die in Washington,” Clark warned.
Legal Perspectives
A panel of higher education lawyers also weighed in on current challenges for the sector.
Kate Hudson, deputy vice president and counsel for government relations and public policy at the Association of American Universities, warned at the start that the session would not have “a whole lot of good news.” Given the rapid pace of changes from the federal government, she also offered a caveat: “Anything I say today could be out of date in 72 hours.”
Hudson noted that campus attorneys are dealing with multiple actions from the federal government, such as federal funding freezes and far-reaching executive orders, as the Trump administration seeks to reshape everything from academic research to college admissions.
“I don’t think it is too dramatic to say that this is a wholesale renegotiation by force of the government-academia partnership,” Hudson said. “I don’t think that’s an overstatement.”
Jen Gartner, deputy general counsel at the University of Maryland, argued that the relationship between the federal government and research institutions shifted from “extremely collaborative and collegial” to a suddenly “adversarial approach” that has left universities flummoxed. That strain has particularly been felt around grants, which she said have often been terminated for unclear reasons. She also said the federal government has provided unclear information on such cancellations, sometimes providing contradictory statements in the same termination notice.
And as higher education attorneys have sought answers, she said, they’ve reviewed few.
“It’s not just that universities don’t know what to do—agencies don’t know what to do, either, and [staff are] not picking up the phone or responding to emails if they’re even still there,” Gartner said.
Related to research, Hudson also warned that Trump administration’s scrutiny of international students, which includes now vetting their social media posts for evidence of hostility toward the U.S. government and culture, also has the potential to harm the sector.
“It’s not an overestimation to say that threats … to legal immigration, to your campuses, do present an existential threat to the academic research enterprise itself at a time when [research and development] budgets and graduates from STEM degrees in our competitors, such as China, are off the charts and reaching new heights,” she said. “International students will go elsewhere.”
Hudson added that the AAU has not historically focused on immigration law, but that has suddenly shifted amid the threats to international students and faculty.
A Hard Year Ahead?
Inside Higher Ed also hosted a panel at this year’s conference to discuss the results of the 15th annual Survey of College and University Chief Business Officers, released last week. That survey, conducted in partnership with Hanover Research, found college business officers confident in the long-term outlook but worried about their financial situation in the near future.
Most respondents believe their institutions will be in worse financial shape next year. Only 43 percent expressed the belief that their institution would be in better shape next year. But Rick Mills, president and CEO of United Educators, was skeptical about the sentiment that financial situations will improve by next year given the various challenges discussed at the conference.
“At one level, I take heart in the optimism,” Mills remarked. “I think it’s what keeps all of us going, and what gets you to work in the morning, and perhaps, in the end, helps us solve the problem. On the other hand, it strikes me as slightly fantastical thinking in the current environment.”
The number of colleges and universities with written policies that do not seriously threaten student expression are on the rise this year, according to the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression’s 19th annual “Spotlight on Speech Codes” report, published Tuesday.
Since 2006, FIRE has grouped hundreds of public and private higher education institutions into three overall categories based on their campus speech policies: green, yellow and red lights. This year, 73 of the 490 (14.9 percent) colleges and universities surveyed received a green light ranking—meaning their policies don’t threaten free expression—compared to 63 last year. It’s the highest share since 2012, when just 3.6 percent of institutions earned green-light ratings.
For the first time in 19 years, the number of green-light colleges outnumbered those in the red-light category (14.7 percent), reserved for institutions with policies that “clearly and substantially restrict free speech,” according to the report. Last year, 20 percent of institutions received a red-light rating.
Although political and institutional responses to campus protests related to the Israel-Hamas war reignited debate over free expression last year, the report attributed the decrease in red-light ratings to colleges and universities revising their policies related to harassment, hate speech and bias-reporting systems. Specifically, the report said that while bias-reporting systems have become popular over the past decade, they “have invited students to report protected speech simply because it offends them,” turned academic institutions into “referees of political and academic speech,” and created a “chilling effect on campus expression.”
Lawsuits, free speech advocacy—from students, alumni and groups like FIRE—and lawmaker scrutiny have all spurred changes in recent years.
“Over a dozen institutions have either substantially revised or eliminated entirely their bias reporting systems,” the report said. “Others have significantly reduced the prominence of their bias reporting teams, either by reducing the number of places on their website the team is mentioned or by requiring students enter their credentials to access the policy information.”
FIRE rated the majority of institutions—337, or 68.8 percent—as yellow, meaning they “maintain policies that impose vague regulations on expression.” And eight colleges—including Baylor University, Brigham Young University and Hillsdale College—received a warning rating for “clearly and consistently stat[ing] that they hold a certain set of values above a commitment to freedom of speech.”
Over all, private colleges have more restrictive policies than public colleges. Just 10.6 percent of public colleges earned red lights compared to 28 percent of private colleges—and only 7.1 percent of private colleges earned a green-light rating, compared to 17 percent of public ones.
