Category: Featured

  • Texas Tech Puts Its Anti-Trans Rules In Writing

    Texas Tech Puts Its Anti-Trans Rules In Writing

    Months after beginning to enforce unwritten policies about how faculty members can and cannot teach topics related to gender, Texas Tech University system officials released a memo Monday that officially put those policies—and more—in writing.

    “Effective immediately, faculty must not include or advocate in any form course content that conflicts with the following standards,” Chancellor Brandon Creighton wrote in the memo to system presidents, which was passed along to faculty members. The standards include specific rules around race and sexuality that were not previously discussed, system faculty members told Inside Higher Ed. The memo also enshrines that the Texas Tech system recognizes only two sexes—male and female.

    The fuzzy anti-trans policies that were first introduced via a game of censorship telephone at Angelo State University in September have now been made clear and expanded upon across the entire five-university Texas Tech system. Course content related to race and sexuality is now also subject to heightened scrutiny. Although the memo doesn’t ban outright discussion of transgender topics or any topics that suggest there are more than two genders, policies across the country stating that there are only two sexes or genders have been used to restrict transgender rights.

    Texas Tech is far from alone in its efforts; public systems across Texas have taken on varying politically motivated course reviews, leaving faculty members in the state angry and confused. For example, the University of Texas system recently completed a review of all courses on gender identity, and the Texas A&M system board approved a new policy last month mandating presidential approval for classes that “advocate race or gender ideology, sexual orientation, or gender identity.”

    According to Creighton’s memo, faculty members may not “promote” or instill the belief that one race or sex is superior to another; that an individual is, consciously or unconsciously, inherently racist, sexist or “oppressive”; that any person should be discriminated against because of their race or sex; that moral character is determined by race or sex; that individuals bear responsibility or guilt because of the actions by others of the same race or sex; or that meritocracy or a strong work ethic are racist, sexist or “constructs of oppression.”

    Creighton defined advocacy as “presenting these beliefs as correct or required and pressuring students to affirm them, rather than analyzing or critiquing them as one viewpoint among others. This also includes course content that promotes activism on issues related to race or sex, rather than academic instruction.”

    The memo also outlines a Board of Regents–controlled review process, complete with a flowchart, for courses that include content related to gender identity and sexuality. Although race is mentioned earlier in the memo, it’s unclear whether race-related course content will also be subject to this review.

    “We’ve been in this slow rollout process already. We had to go through all of the courses and essentially do the flowchart before the flowchart existed,” said a faculty member at Angelo State who wished to remain anonymous for fear of retribution. “Anything that would cover transgender [people] was flagged.”

    Creighton, a former member of the Texas State Senate, justified the new rules using Senate Bill 37, a law he sponsored earlier this year that, among other things, gave the control of faculty senates to public institution governing boards and established a once-every-five-years review process for general education curricula. An earlier version of the bill that passed the Senate contained language that’s very similar to the restrictions in the Texas Tech memo, including censoring specific course topics that suggest any social, political or religious belief is superior to another and allowing administrators to unilaterally remove faculty senate members for their personal political advocacy. The existing law does not prohibit teaching about transgender identity, racial inequality, systemic racism, homosexuality or any other individual topic.

    “This directive is the first step of the Board of Regents’ ongoing implementation of its statutory responsibility to review and oversee curriculum under Senate Bill 37 and related provisions of the Education Code. This curriculum review under Senate Bill 37 will, in part, ensure each university is offering degrees of value,” Creighton wrote.

    Texas Tech University system spokespeople did not respond to Inside Higher Ed’s questions about the memo, including what next steps might be.

    “The Board’s responsibility is to safeguard the integrity of our academic mission and maintain the trust of Texans,” Board of Regents chairman Cody Campbell said in a news release. “The Board welcomed the clarity provided by Senate Bill 37, which reaffirmed the Regents’ role in curriculum oversight. This new framework strengthens accountability, supports our faculty, and ensures that our universities remain focused on education, research, and innovation—core commitments that position the TTU System for continued national leadership.”

    Faculty across the system are largely upset about the changes but unsure about how to push back, a faculty member told Inside Higher Ed. One Texas Tech professor emeritus, Kelli Cargile Cook, told The Texas Tribune she began drafting a resignation letter.

    “I’ve been teaching since 1981 and this was going to be my last class. I was so looking forward to working with the seniors in our major, but I can’t stomach what’s going on at Texas Tech,” she told the Tribune. “I think the memo is cunning in that the beliefs that it lists are, at face value, something you could agree with. But when you think about how this would be put into practice, where a Board of Regents approves a curriculum—people who are politically appointed, not educated, not researchers—that move is a slippery slope.”

    Brian Evans, president of the Texas chapter of the American Association of University Professors, criticized the memo Tuesday. 

    “Empowering administrators to censor faculty experts’ teaching decisions does a disservice to the university, its students and the state,” Evans said. “Such a system is inconsistent with long-standing principles of academic freedom, university policy and the First Amendment.”

    Graham Piro, faculty legal defense fund fellow for campus advocacy at the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, decried the memo in a statement Tuesday.

    “The Texas Tech memo unconstitutionally singles out specific viewpoints on these topics, implying that faculty members must adhere to the state’s line on these issues—and that dissenters face punishment. The memo is also so broadly worded that an overzealous administration could easily punish a professor who seeks to provoke arguments in class or advocates outside the classroom for changes to curricula that reflect developments in teaching,” Piro said.

    “Decades ago, the Supreme Court recognized that the First Amendment ‘does not tolerate laws that cast a pall of orthodoxy over the classroom.’ It instead wrote that ‘truth’ is discovered not by ‘authoritative selection,’ but ‘out of a multitude of tongues.’ These principles are timeless, and Texas Tech should not compromise them, no matter the political winds of the day.”

    He also likened the memo to Florida’s Stop WOKE Act, currently blocked by a federal court, which severely limited how Florida faculty members could talk and teach about race, gender and sexuality.

    Source link

  • Career Growth Series 1 – CUPA-HR

    Career Growth Series 1 – CUPA-HR

    CUPA-HR’s Career Growth Series is a three-part professional development opportunity for higher ed HR professionals who want to explore how to grow, lead and thrive in their careers. The three 90-minute virtual workshops in each series offer practical tools, peer insights and reflective space to support your growth.

    While you can register for only one or two of the workshops, together they form a cohesive journey — from identifying creative, self-directed development opportunities to evaluating leadership readiness and building the skills and strategies needed to step into and succeed in leadership roles.

    The Career Growth Series is a pilot program that is open to invited CUPA-HR members. Seats are limited to support interaction among participants. The workshops will be highly interactive, so come prepared to engage, reflect and share ideas. The sessions will not be recorded.

    New to CUPA-HR Virtual Events?

    CUPA-HR is a nonpartisan, nonprofit educational organization of HR professionals serving our nation’s institutions of higher education. The content and discussions in these workshops are intended to be educational in nature and do not constitute legal advice or counsel. To that end, we request that participants refrain from promoting partisan positions during the workshops. 


    Building the Blueprint for Your Professional Development Journey

    Wednesday, August 13 | 1:00-2:30 p.m. ET

    This workshop invites you to rethink professional development by exploring unconventional, self-directed strategies that align with your position and career aspirations. Through interactive activities and real-world examples, you’ll learn how to identify meaningful growth opportunities, build support for your development plan and articulate the value of your learning. Explore how curiosity, creativity and commitment can be key drivers for shaping a fulfilling professional journey in higher ed HR.

    Presenters

    Krista Vaught, Ed.D.
    Principal Advisor, Employee Experience and Learning and Development
    Frontier Design

    Natalie Trent
    Talent Management Manager
    Grand Valley State University


    Navigating Career Possibilities: Is Leadership Your Next Destination?

    Wednesday, August 20 | 2:00-3:30 p.m. ET

    This workshop will help you explore if leadership/management is the right next step in your career journey and will challenge the assumption that upward mobility is the only route to career fulfillment. Through self-assessment, peer dialogue and real-world insights, you’ll examine your motivations and strengths — and the realities of leadership roles. Leave with clarity on your path forward, whether it involves formal leadership or alternative growth opportunities in higher ed HR.

    Presenters

    Dawn Aziz, Ph.D.
    Director, Organization and Employee Development
    Wayne State University

    Kristen Finley
    Talent and Organizational Development Specialist
    Clemson University

    Elizabeth Oeltjenbruns
    Organization Development Consultant
    University of South Florida

    Krista Vaught, Ed.D.
    Principal Advisor, Employee Experience and Learning and Development
    Frontier Design


    From Aspiration to Action: Positioning Yourself for a Successful Transition Into Leadership

    Wednesday, August 27 | 2:00-3:30 p.m. ET

    This workshop is for higher ed HR professionals who are pursuing a leadership or managerial role or have recently transitioned into leadership/management. You’ll explore essential leadership competencies, reflect on your readiness, and learn strategies to build experience and credibility, even without a formal title. Through interactive discussions and real-world insights, you’ll gain tools to confidently navigate the shift from team member to a formal leadership role.

    Laura Boehme
    Vice President of People and Technology
    Central Oregon Community College

    Krista Vaught, Ed.D.
    Principal Advisor, Employee Experience and Learning and Development
    Frontier Design

    CORE
    Employee Development

    STRATEGIC LEADERSHIP
    Leading the Higher Ed Business Model

    ENGAGEMENT
    Self-Awareness and Accountability


    New to CUPA-HR Virtual Events?
    The CUPA-HR website requires you to create a free site account if you don’t already have one. After you’ve created a website account and established a login, you can then proceed to register for this event. If you have any questions while registering, please contact CUPA-HR toll free at 877-287-2474 or via e-mail at [email protected].

    Need to Cancel a Registration?
    Fill out the cancellation form.

    Source link

  • Higher Ed HR Accelerator Cancellations and Substitutions

    Higher Ed HR Accelerator Cancellations and Substitutions

    Higher Ed HR Accelerator

    Higher Ed HR Accelerator Cancellations and Substitutions

    Use this form to cancel your Higher Ed HR Accelerator registration or to designate a substitute attendee.

    The post Higher Ed HR Accelerator Cancellations and Substitutions appeared first on CUPA-HR.

    Source link

  • Reports – BEES Survey – CUPA-HR

    Reports – BEES Survey – CUPA-HR

    CUPA-HR Research is pleased to introduce redesigned Benefits, Employee Experience, and Structure (BEES) Survey reports in DataOnDemand. Our new reports feature a fresh look and feel and now include charts for most variables. Charts make it easier than ever to share the latest trends with leadership and teammates so you can continue to build and maintain competitive employee experience and benefits packages. Even better — your institution still has time to earn your discount on 2026 BEES DataOnDemand by participating in the BEES Survey.

    If your institution already subscribes to BEES DataOnDemand, log in to DataOnDemand to see the above chart for your peers (as opposed to all institutions that contributed data). If your institution has a BEES subscription, but you don’t have access, have your CHRO or primary CUPA-HR contact assign you access using these steps. Finally, if your institution does not currently have a BEES DataOnDemand subscription, consider participating in the BEES Survey to get a discount on 2026 BEES DataOnDemand.

    Source link

  • What government policy still fails to understand about international education

    What government policy still fails to understand about international education

    This blog includes personal reflections shared at the 2025 Independent Higher Education Conference by  James Pitman, Outgoing Chair of IHE and Managing Director U.K. and Ireland, Study Group.

    International education is important to many IHE members but for some of our biggest members, including my own organisation Study Group, it is our entire business. 

    Government policies on international education over the last 15 have been less than supportive, and some in the last 2 years have been materially value destructive for the UK.

    The Dependents Visa – policy and discrimination

    The removal of the Dependants visa in 2024 and questions over the Graduate Route cost the UK 54,000 international students in 2024 vs 2023.  That is worth £6 billion at today’s values, and over £2 billion in receipts to the exchequer each year.  Certainly the dependants visa had a major flaw, but it was one that could have been corrected rather than withdrawing the whole visa scheme entirely for taught degrees.

    As predicted by the sector, that withdrawal was gender discriminatory, leading to the loss of 19,000 female students vs the prior year, in the January 2024 intake alone.  Every one of those was a human story, of ambitions denied, families fractured, careers restricted and yet again women being discriminated against – in this case by UK government policy. It is particularly ironic, considering the importance the UN Sustainable Development Goals place on women’s education as arguably the most effective way of lifting a whole society.

    Such discrimination is also a risk with the tightening of the BCA metrics to barrier levels that no other export sector has to endure, such that universities are already withdrawing completely from certain countries. This is collateral damage that will stop those good students that do exist in every country from coming to study in the UK.  Compliance absolutely yes, but constriction beyond what is rational – that is a step too far.

    This government makes much of taking decisions that are in the interests of the UK and not overtly political; and they tell us that they are driving growth and jobs.  And yet the loss of international students almost always leads to the loss of jobs in every region of our country, most especially those that need inward investment the most and will find it hardest to fund an alternative.

    Those lost 54,000 international students lost us well over £1 billion in inward investment, and the UCU says nearly 15,000 jobs have been lost in Higher Education, many probably at graduate level.

    Research from Oxford Economics and others implies that you can double that with job losses in local economies and supply chains. So, some 30,000 jobs lost or at risk with no substitution possible, as those students have already taken their £1 billion elsewhere. When Tata Steel’s Port Talbot plant announced 2,800 job losses, with more in the supply chain, this was front-page news. Where are the headlines that ask for immediate intervention to prevent ten times that impact?

    The International Student Levy – the new export tax

    Which brings me on to the International Student Levy, or more correctly, an export tariff or jobs tax.  The Institute for Fiscal Studies calls it a ‘tax on a major UK export’. 

    Whether the tariff goes on international student fees – which research indicates will lose us 16,000 students straight away – or is absorbed by universities (which they are in no position to cope with) jobs will be lost.  The loss of 16,000 students implies 4,000 jobs at risk in higher education and 4,000 more jobs in local economies. Martin Wolf in the Financial Times earlier this week wrote, ‘the proposed…tax on international student fees is a dagger aimed at one of the UK’s most successful export industries’.  Who can disagree!

    The Government is arguing that there is no alternative to fund domestic student maintenance (which to be clear is a worthy cause for support).  I can’t be the only one who can think of an obvious alternative. Current US policy is hammering the competitiveness of the market leader, so that offers the UK a golden opportunity, if government would only work with the sector to grow our international education exports rather than endlessly restricting them. 

    Back of the envelope calculation indicates that recovering only half of the students we lost in 2024 because of government policy would generate the required income to the exchequer to fund those maintenance grants sustainably and create jobs, not destroy them.

    The Graduate Route subsidy

    Finally the Graduate Route, which is an incredibly sensible tool to encourage students to study here and contribute after graduation, but which also subsidises UK tax payers and the NHS specifically, every year that it is available to international students. Why? If you pay the same Income Tax and National Insurance as a domestic equivalent but can, by law, only access less than half the services that are paid for from those taxes, then that is a subsidy in my book.

    We should all hope the Graduate Route visa is here to stay, but it has already been shortened by six months and the consequences could yet be dire. According to the ICEF, an Indian graduate on an average salary may take 25 years to repay the cost of undergraduate study in a Russell Group university –  36 without two years of post study work. As families calculate return on investment in a challenging market for graduate employment, nibbling away at policies that allow an opportunity to recoup investment may risk it altogether.

    Education not immigration

    A year ago, I recommended to the IHE conference that the Government needed to decouple international students from the toxicity of immigration politics, which research shows much of the public also supports.  They have not done so and show no inclination to do so.

    Education and immigration must be decoupled if we are to ever escape relentlessly self-harming  policies. Until they do so, I am afraid that their maxim of doing what is right for our country and not just what is supposedly popular is destined to continue to ring very hollow for international education, one of our greatest exports and probably greatest source of influence for good.

    Source link

  • The Spell is Broken, But Credentials Remain

    The Spell is Broken, But Credentials Remain

    For decades, America was gripped by college mania, a culturally and structurally manufactured frenzy that elevated higher education to near-mythical importance. Students, families, and society were swept up in the belief that a college degree guaranteed status, financial security, and social validation. This was no mere aspiration; it was a fevered obsession, fueled by marketing, rankings, policy incentives, and social pressure. Today, the spell is breaking, but the demand for credentials persists.

    Historically, the term “college mania” dates to the 19th century, when historian Frederick Rudolph used it to describe the fervent founding of colleges in the United States, driven by religious zeal and civic ambition. Over time, the mania evolved. Postwar expansion of higher education through the GI Bill normalized college attendance as a societal expectation. Rankings, elite admissions, and media coverage transformed selective schools into symbols of prestige. By the early 2000s, for-profit colleges exploited the frenzy, aggressively marketing to students while federal and state policy incentivized enrollment growth over meaningful outcomes.

    The early 2010s revealed the fragility of this system in what I have described as the College Meltdown: structural dysfunction, declining returns on investment, predatory practices, and neoliberal policy failures exposed the weaknesses behind the hype. At its height, college mania spun students and families into a cycle of aspiration, anxiety, and debt.

    Now, even students at the most elite institutions are disengaging. Many do not attend classes, treating lectures as optional, prioritizing networking, internships, or social signaling over actual learning. This demonstrates that the spell of college mania is unraveling: prestige alone no longer guarantees engagement or meaningful educational outcomes. Families are questioning the value of expensive degrees, underemployment is rising, and alternative pathways, including vocational training, apprenticeships, and nontraditional credentials, are gaining recognition.

    Yet the paradox remains: for many jobs, credentials are still required. Nursing, engineering, teaching, accounting, and countless professional roles cannot be accessed without degrees. The waning mania does not erase the need for qualifications; it simply exposes how much of the cultural obsession — the anxiety, overpaying, and overworking — was socially manufactured rather than inherently necessary for employment. Students are now forced to navigate this tension: pursuing credentials while seeking value, purpose, and meaningful learning beyond the symbol of the degree itself.

    The breaking of the spell is not unique to higher education. History demonstrates that manias — economic, social, or cultural — rise and fall. College mania, once fueled by collective belief and systemic reinforcement, is now unraveling under the weight of its contradictions. Institutions must adapt by emphasizing authentic education rather than prestige, while policymakers can prioritize affordability, accountability, and outcomes. Students, in turn, may pursue paths aligned with practical skills, personal growth, and career readiness rather than chasing symbolic credentials alone.

    The era of college mania may be ending, but with the spell broken comes an opportunity. Higher education can be reimagined as a system that serves public good, intellectual development, and genuine opportunity, balancing the need for credentials with the pursuit of meaningful education.


    Sources:

    Frederick Rudolph, The American College and University: A History (1962).

    Frank Bruni, Where You Go Is Not Who You’ll Be: An Antidote to the College Admissions Mania (2015).

    Dahn Shaulis, Higher Education Inquirer, “College Meltdown and the Manufactured Frenzy” (2011–2025).

    Stanford Law Review, Private Universities in the Public Interest (2025).

    Higher Education Handbook of Theory & Research, Volume 29 (2024).

    Recent reporting on student engagement, class attendance, and labor-market requirements for degrees, 2023–2025.

    Source link

  • 5 Tips for Navigating Lame Duck–Ness (opinion)

    5 Tips for Navigating Lame Duck–Ness (opinion)

    If you are a leader, chances are you will find yourself in a lame-duck position at some point. When I announced that, after 16 years as chancellor, I would be stepping down to decompress and explore new opportunities, I thought I would be prepared. I was not. Then the calls from colleagues across industries started coming in—not to congratulate me, but to talk about the struggle of being a lame-duck leader. Their stories, filled with familiar struggles and strategies, closely mirrored my own journey. This article aims to help you navigate that transition in ways that benefit both you and your campus or organization.

    The first thing to remember is that you are a lame duck the minute you announce your departure. Most leaders believe they will have the same standing in the institution until they walk out the door for the last time. Nope. It doesn’t matter how long you have been at your institution, how important you are or how much you are loved on and off campus: The process of transition has begun. After a flurry of contacts expressing gratitude and inquiring about what is next, the phone will ring a little less each day, substantive email traffic will drop and the work calendar will free up unless you force it not to (not something I would advise). People who used to drop everything when you needed them will take a little longer to get back to you. You may find fewer consultations on day-to-day operations and even fewer on questions pertaining to the future. This trend will accelerate as new leadership becomes more defined. This is normal. Don’t take it personally.

    The second thing to remember is that if you have been at your institution for any length of time, you are likely going through a grieving process. This is the end of an important era, one in which your time and thoughts were consumed by your campus. You are going to go through some version of the five stages of grief without realizing it. You may find yourself preparing future strategic plans (denial), overreacting to comments or actions focused on the future (anger), or rushing to implement last-minute initiatives that will solidify or advance your legacy (bargaining). You may start to feel like everything you have done is being overshadowed by a campus focusing in on the excitement of a new era while leaving you behind (depression). Realizing that these stages are affecting your thoughts, moods and actions is important. The faster you can get to the fifth stage, acceptance, the better able you will be to help your campus transition in positive ways and gain a healthier attitude for yourself. However, it is important to remember that the stages of grief are neither distinct nor linear and you can be experiencing more than one at the same time.

    From my own experience and those relayed to me by others, the following tips can help you get to the acceptance stage and achieve some level of peace of mind more quickly.

    1. Focus on the needs of your faculty, staff and students. Helping to meet the needs of your employees can give you purpose in a world that suddenly has become confusing. They are also grieving, but their reality is different than yours. You’re leaving. They are staying and facing uncertainty in the future. They’re worried about the impact of this transition on their careers, jobs, colleagues and families. Their focus needs to be on the future. As the leader, your public demeanor can either add to their stress or help reduce it. Be positive, upbeat and supportive. Spend some time trying to understand the goals of people on campus and help position them for future success. I found my role became more of an adviser or mentor and less about being the boss, which had the added benefit of allowing me to engage in conversations about the future without feeling as though I had to control or direct it.
    2. Reflect on the good you’ve done and stop worrying about what will happen when you leave. I’ve seen too many leaders, including myself, spend their last days worrying about what the next administration will do to their legacy projects or trying to find a way to determine the institution’s future direction. One greatly respected leader I worked for spent the last year of his administration developing a strategic plan that was DOANL (dead on arrival of the next leader). While the intent was good, the exercise wasted a lot of people’s time, limited thinking about new possibilities and even negatively positioned a few people who became inextricably linked to the “old” ideas of the last president instead of being ready to build on the ideas of the new one.

    One of my employees was retiring just as budget cuts threatened the successful initiative she had spent 10 years implementing. On her last day, I asked her how she was doing. Her response was “I can’t control what happens to the project. It might end tomorrow. I know that I’ve had a positive impact on tens of thousands of students and teachers over the past 10 years, and I feel good about that.” That is a healthy attitude that I have tried to adopt as my own. Feel good about what you’ve done because that is what you can control. What happens next is not going to be up to you.

    1. Check your ego at the door. Let’s face it. Experiencing “your people” turning toward someone new, talking excitedly about a future without you in it or expressing a desire to end something you started will hurt a bit. You may even find criticisms of your leadership in some of these conversations. No leader is perfect, and we all make decisions that upset some of our employees. That is part of the job. However, you will be particularly sensitive during your transition time. Don’t overreact, your lame duck–ness! Take a breath and think about whether your ego is driving your reaction. If it is, step back. Keep focused on what is in the best interest of the people who will remain after you walk out the door.

    As you get closer to the end date, particularly when the new leader is named and begins the process of transitioning into office, you may find yourself fading into the background. Some egos can’t take it and their owners begin strutting their feathers around demanding attention. Others head for the shadows and disappear completely. Neither helps your campus, nor your mental state. In the beginning of my transition, I struggled to cut down the time I spent working on campus business, but I soon realized that I was filling the time with projects that would likely be DOANL. Once I realized I was working for my ego and not for the future of the campus, I cut back, rediscovered weekends and evenings, spent some time enjoying the exploration of future opportunities, and felt my mood improve. Balance your involvement. Don’t abandon, but don’t overreach.

    1. Embrace the next leader. In the end, it doesn’t matter if your successor is your long-standing archnemesis from grade school, the most annoying person you have ever met or your best friend: It is your responsibility to position the next leader for success. Be honest, but positive and supportive. Build up your successor’s strengths and positive attributes to the campus. Reach out to whoever is taking the leadership wheel and ask how you can help with the transition. Advise where appropriate, try not to judge and remember what would have been helpful to you when you arrived at the institution. At a certain point the best thing you can do is get out of the way. The worst thing you can do is create more stress and tension for the campus community by undermining or opposing your successor.
    2. Pay attention to yourself. You are a leader. You are used to keeping your emotions in check so you can focus on what is best for your campus and community. When you are asked how you are doing, you answer positively no matter how you feel and then turn the question around to focus on the inquirer. You may have convinced yourself you are feeling great, but if you are a lame duck, that probably isn’t the case, and how you are feeling may become apparent at odd times. Pay attention to those odd moments, because they’ll likely reveal what phases of the grieving process you are in.

    One of my odd moments came a few hours before my farewell dinner, which at my suggestion was a roast (fitting, given my personality). As I was getting ready, I felt sick, my pulse was racing and my blood pressure was alarmingly high. My concerned spouse commented that the event was a significant and emotional one and, by talking with her I realized that I was still in denial. Though I had been working on transitioning others, I still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that I was leaving my job forever. The farewell event was an undeniable sign that my identity and life as the chancellor were ending. Once I realized why I was stressed, my anxiety went down and we were able to enjoy an incredibly fun and heartwarming evening.

    Conclusion

    The tips mentioned above can help you maintain focus as a positive and productive leader during your lame-duck phase, allowing you to effectively navigate the complex emotions associated with leaving your campus role. It’s essential to recognize that the grieving process is not a linear sequence of emotions but rather a fluid experience in which feelings ebb and flow. By regularly checking in with yourself and acknowledging your emotions while striving to make a positive impact on the campus, you can end your tenure with the appreciation of a community that is well prepared for the future. And as you waddle out the door for the last time as a lame duck, you’ll find yourself striding confidently with enthusiasm and optimism into your next chapter in life.

    Kevin Snider retired as chancellor emeritus from Pennsylvania State University New Kensington after 16 years on Dec. 31, 2024.

    Source link

  • Importance of Media Training Students in Politically Charged World

    Importance of Media Training Students in Politically Charged World

    With student-led campus protests on the rise and polarization intensifying on both sides of the political spectrum, the need to have students media ready is mounting. For example, in recent weeks students rallied across the U.S. because of the Trump administration’s assault on higher education; protests broke out at the University of California, Berkeley, during an event held by Turning Point USA; and students at the University of Florida protested the university’s deal with ICE. Since October 2023, U.S. colleges and universities have seen 3,700 protest days across 525 campuses, including more than 130 encampments. In fact, one in three college students have been involved in a protest

    As a PR professional, you can equip students on your campus with the skills and confidence to excel in interviews. Here are four reasons why you should invest the time and resources in media training your students.

    1. It makes your life easier. When a reporter contacts you and asks for a student to weigh in on the news of the day or your institution’s latest initiative, you will have a pool of students to pick from at the ready rather than reaching out to deans or faculty to find a student and vet them that day.

    While it will make your life easier in the long run, it does require you to put in the time up front. Meet students on their timelines. Most student group meetings are outside of class time, so it might mean you are attending a student government association meeting at 8 p.m. or doing a Zoom training with the College Democrats or Republicans on your lunch break.

    1. It helps students and the community navigate crisis situations. With protests becoming regular occurrences on our campuses and in our communities, media training students will help them remain calm under pressure. When a reporter is looking for a comment, students won’t just say the first thing that pops into their mind. They will know how to get their key messages across to the audiences they are trying to reach.

    It’s not just national and local media students need to respond to; student reporters are often the first to approach peers for quotes. All student newspapers are online, can be accessed by anyone and are an extension of your institution and its values. Engaging with student media isn’t just a learning opportunity—it shows how students will represent themselves, which in turn has a direct impact on the reputation of your institution.

    Many students don’t know they can choose to not talk to the media or say no to interview requests. We’ve all seen the videos of reporters knocking on students’ doors and the students saying something unfavorable rather than just not opening the door in the first place, or of students having a microphone put in their face as they are walking to class to weigh in on a subject they don’t know about instead of saying, “I don’t know.” Media training can help students realize they have the option to respectfully decline interviews and interactions, which can help alleviate the pressure they might feel to respond in the moment.

    1. Students build career-ready competencies. Whether it’s an internship or job interview, being able to succinctly articulate their points will help students for the rest of their lives. From public speaking to leadership roles to internships, media training gives students skills for their future.

    We want our students to be able to weigh in on important issues, and media outlets are always looking for a student perspective. For example, my team was recently on campus for faculty and staff media and op-ed training when a professor asked if his students could sit in. Afterward, one student drafted an op-ed that she successfully placed. I’ve also provided op-ed writing training to seminar classes in which students learn the nuts and bolts of writing an op-ed and how to get published as an undergrad.

    1. Name, image and likeness (NIL) has changed the game for student athletes. It takes students out of the arena and into the public eye where their reputation will be on the line. If you are at a larger school, some of your student athletes may have their own publicist, but if you are not at school where the NIL money is flowing, media training helps prepare student athletes for local commercials, being the face of the pizza shop down the street or even a postgame interview.

    When a scandal occurs—a coach is fired, or student athletes are gambling or being hazed—you want students to know they can come to you for advice and guidance when reporters descend on campus.

    Students are the most prominent ambassadors of your institution. Media training isn’t about making them a professional correspondent; it’s about making them feel prepared when they are in the spotlight. Whether they are engaging in a protest, talking with a peer reporter at the school newspaper or navigating a postgame interview, media training can serve them in the moment and long term. It’s worth your time to engage with your best spokespeople.

    Cristal Steuer is associate vice president at TVP Communications, a national public relations and crisis communications agency solely focused on higher education.

    Source link

  • Actually, It’s a Good Time to Be an English Prof (opinion)

    Actually, It’s a Good Time to Be an English Prof (opinion)

    It may sound perverse to say so. Our profession is under attack, our students are reading less, jobs are scarce and the humanities are first on the chopping block. But precisely because the outlook is dire, this is also a moment of clarity and possibility. The campaign against higher education, the AI gold rush and the dismantling of our public schools have made the stakes of humanistic teaching unmistakable. For those of us with the privilege of relative job security, there has never been a more urgent—or more opportune—time to do what we were trained to do.

    I am an English professor, so let me first address my own. Colleagues, this is the moment to make the affirmative case for our existence. This is our chance to demonstrate the worth of person-to-person pedagogy; to speak the language of knowledge formation and the pursuit of truth; to reinvigorate the canon while developing new methods for the study of ethnic, postcolonial, feminist, queer and minority literatures and cultural texts; to stand for the value of human intelligence. Now is when we seize the mantle and opportunity of “English” as a both a privileged signifier and a sign of humility as we fight alongside our colleagues in the non-Western languages and literatures who are even more endangered than we are— and for our students, without whom we have no future.

    I’m not being Pollyannaish. Between Trump 1 and Trump 2 sit the tumultuous COVID years, which means U.S. universities have been reeling, under direct attacks and pressures, for a decade. I started my first job in 2016, so that is the entirety of the time that I have worked as an academic. I spent six years in public universities in purple-red states, where austerity was the name of the game—and then I moved to Texas.

    There have been years of insults and incursions into the profession. We have been scapegoated as an out-of-touch elite and called enemies of the state. And no, we haven’t always responded well. In the face of austerity, we let our colleagues be sacrificed. Despite the bad-faith weaponization of “CRT,” “DEI” and “identity politics,” we disavowed identity. Against our better judgment, we assimilated wave after wave of new educational technologies, from MOOCs to course management platforms to Zoom.

    Now, we face a new onslaught: the supposedly unstoppable and inevitable rise of generative AI—a deliberately misleading misnomer for the climate-destroying linguistic probability machines that can automate and simulate numerous high-level tasks, but stop short of demonstrating human levels of intelligence, consciousness and imagination. “The ultimate unaccountability machine,” as Audrey Watters puts it.

    From Substack to The New York Times to new collaborative projects Against AI, humanities professors are sounding the alarm. At the start of this semester, philosopher Kate Manne reflected that her “job just got an awful lot harder.”

    Actually, I think our jobs just got a whole lot easier, because our purpose is sharper than ever. Where others see AI as the end of our profession, I see a clarifying opportunity to recommit to who we are. No LLM can reproduce the deep reading, careful dialogue and shared meaning-making of the humanities classroom. We college professors stand alongside primary and secondary school teachers who have already faced decades of deprofessionalization, deskilling and disrespect.

    There is a war on public education in this country. Statehouses in places like Texas are rapidly dismantling the infrastructure and independence of public institutions at all levels, from disbanding faculty senates to handing over curriculum development to technologists who have no understanding of the dialogical, improvisatory nature of teaching. These are folks who gleefully predict that robots with the capacity to press “play” on AI-generated slide decks can replace human teachers with years of experience. We need them out of our schools at every level.

    Counter to what university administrators and mainstream pundits seem to believe, students are not clamoring to use AI tools. Tech companies are aggressively pushing them. All over the country, school districts and universities are partnering with companies like Microsoft and OpenAI for fear of being left behind. My own institution has partnered with Google. Earlier this semester, “Google product experts” came to campus to instruct our students on how to “supercharge [their] creativity” and “boost [their] productivity” using Gemini and NotebookLM tools. Faculty have been invited to join AI-focused learning communities and enroll in trainings and workshops (or even a whole online class) on integrating AI tools into our teaching; funds have been allotted for new grant programs in AI exploration and course development.

    I didn’t spend seven years earning a doctorate to learn how to teach from Google product experts. And my students didn’t come to university to learn how to learn from Google product experts, either. Those folks have their work, motivations and areas of expertise. We have ours, and it is past time to defend them. We are keepers of canon and critique, of traditions and interventions, of discipline-specific discourses and a robust legacy of public engagement. The whole point of education is to hand over what we know to the next generation, not to chase fads alongside the students we are meant to equip with enduring skills. It is our job to strengthen minds, to resist what Rebecca Solnit calls the “technological invasion of consciousness, community, and culture.”

    Many of us have been trying to do this for some time, but it’s hard to swim against the tides. In 2024, I finally banned all electronics from my English literature classes. I realized that sensitivity to accessibility need not prevent us from exercising simple common sense. We know that students learn more and better when they take notes by hand, annotate texts and read in hard copy. Because my students do not have access to free printing, and because a university librarian told me that “we only go from print to digital, not the other way around,” I printed copies of every reading for every student. With the words on paper before them, they retained more, they made eye contact, they took marginal notes, they really responded to each other’s interpretations of the texts.

    That’s the easy part. As we college professors plan our return to blue books, in-class midterms and oral exams, the challenge is how to intervene before our students come to class. If AI is antithetical to the project of higher education, it’s even more insidious and damaging in the elementary, middle and high schools.

    My children attend Texas public schools in the particularly embattled Houston Independent School District, so I have seen firsthand the app-ification of education. Log in to the middle school student platform—which some “innovator” had the audacity to name “Clever”—and you’ll get a page with more than three dozen apps. Not just the usual suspects like Khan Academy and Epic, but also ABC-CLIO, Accelerate Learning, Active Classroom, Amplify, Britannica, BrainPOP, Canva, Carnegie Learning, CK-12 Foundation, Digital Theatre Plus, Discover Magazine, Edgenuity, Edmentum, eSebco, everfi, Gale Databases, Gizmos, IPC, i-Ready, iScience, IXL, JASON Learning, Language! Live, Learning Ally Audiobook, MackinVIA, McGraw Hill, myPLTW, Newsela, Raise, Read to Achieve, Savvas EasyBridge, STEMscopes, Summit K12, TeachingBooks, Vocabulary.com, World Book Online, Zearn …

    As both a professor and a parent, I have decided to intervene directly. Last year, I started leading a reading group for my 12-year-old daughter and a group of her classmates. They call it a book club. Really, it’s a seminar. Once a month, they convene around our dining table for 90 minutes, paperbacks in hand, to engage in close reading and analysis. They do all the stuff we English professors want our college students to do: They examine specific passages, which illuminate broader themes; they draw connections to other books we’ve read; they ask questions about the historical context; they make motivated references to current social, cultural and political issues; they plumb the space between their individual readings and the author’s intentions.

    No phones, no computers, no apps. We have books (and snacks). And conversation. After each meeting, my daughter and I debrief. About four months in, she said, “You know, a lot of the previous meetings I felt like we were each just giving our own takes. But this time, I feel like we arrived at a new understanding of the book by talking about it together.” The club members had challenged and pushed each other’s interpretations, and together exposed facets of the text they wouldn’t have seen alone.

    The literature classroom is a space of collaborative meaning-making—one of the last remaining potentially tech-free spaces out there. A precious space, that we need to renew and defend, not give up to the anti-intellectual mob and not transform at the behest of tech oligarchs. We have an opportunity here to stand up for who we are, for the mission of humanistic education, in affirmative, unapologetic terms—while finding ways to build new alliances and enact solidarity beyond the walls of our college classrooms.

    This moment is clarifying, motivating, energizing. It’s time to remember what we already know.

    Source link

  • 3 Questions for Professor–Turned–Learning Designer Robin Baker

    3 Questions for Professor–Turned–Learning Designer Robin Baker

    In late 2023, Robin Baker made the career pivot from assistant professor at OHSU-PSU School of Public Health to learning designer at Dartmouth College. I asked if Robin would be willing to share some thoughts about her career path, and she graciously agreed.

    Q: What motivated you to shift from a traditional faculty position into a learning designer role? What preparation and background did you bring to the work of a learning designer, and what advantages and challenges have been posed by coming from a faculty role?

    A: I decided to transition from a traditional faculty role to a learning designer position after considerable reflection on what I wanted my work and life to look like. I was in a soft money–funded position, where success often felt tied to research output and securing grants. But in practice, most of my energy went into teaching and supporting students, the parts of the job that truly mattered to me. Over time, I began to realize that the pace and structure of that kind of academic role were not sustainable for me in the long run. As I thought more deeply about what aspects of my work I found most rewarding, I realized that, in addition to teaching and mentoring, I found immense satisfaction in designing learning experiences that were inclusive, authentic and relevant. I often spent significant time redesigning assignments and activities to make them more engaging and meaningful for my students. Learning design offered a way to stay connected to the core of what I value: teaching, learning and student success.

    I brought to this role a strong foundation in pedagogy, assessment and curriculum design, developed through years of intentionally reflecting on my teaching. Whenever I noticed a strategy fell flat, I dug into the literature and experimented with new approaches, refining my practice based on evidence and observation. Another advantage that my previous life as a faculty member has provided me is that I have developed empathy and practical insight into the challenges that faculty face when trying to create robust learning experiences, provide meaningful feedback and maintain a work-life balance. I have found that acknowledging those realities and engaging in open, honest dialogue helps build trust and leads to more creative and effective solutions. Coming from a faculty background has allowed me to serve as a bridge between teaching practice and design strategy.

    At the same time, that transition has come with some challenges. In my faculty role, I was accustomed to being the sole decision-maker for my courses, so adapting to a highly collaborative environment, where I needed to influence others without formal authority, was a major shift. In this context, I had to develop strong project-management skills, work within structured timelines and production workflows, and communicate clearly across teams. Learning to navigate these processes and contribute meaningfully without directing every decision was initially difficult, but it strengthened my ability to work strategically, build consensus and support high-quality learning experiences in partnership with others.

    Q: Having now experienced life as both a full-time professor and full-time learning designer, how do the two roles compare and contrast? For someone trained for research and employed mostly in teaching (as most Ph.D.s are), what recommendations might you have for anyone else contemplating a similar career path?

    A: Having experienced life as both a full-time professor and now as a full-time learning designer, I see both roles as connected by a shared commitment to improving student learning, though they differ in scope and kind of impact. As a faculty member, I had a very immediate connection with students: teaching, mentoring and witnessing their growth in real time. That direct engagement was deeply rewarding and energizing, but it also came with heavy workloads, administrative pressures and blurred boundaries. Over time, I found that level of intensity difficult to sustain, which prompted me to reflect on the kind of work-life balance and long-term impact I wanted.

    As a learning designer, the work feels broader and more strategic. Instead of focusing on one group of students, I now collaborate with faculty across disciplines to design courses and learning environments that enhance teaching and learning for many more students. The impact is less direct but often greater in scale, as it shapes the systems and supports that enable effective teaching.

    At the same time, I think it is important to acknowledge that the loss of direct connection with students can be a real adjustment. There is something uniquely special about witnessing students’ aha moments and seeing the immediate results of your teaching. As a learning designer, that feedback loop is more indirect. Faculty are often very appreciative of our collaboration, but it does not carry quite the same emotional resonance as seeing students thrive firsthand. For anyone considering this transition, it is worth reflecting on how central that kind of direct engagement is to their sense of purpose and whether there are other ways, such as mentoring colleagues, engaging in professional development or contributing to the broader learning community, to fill that gap.

    Another concern I often hear from faculty considering this path is the fear of losing autonomy, particularly the flexibility to structure their own days or pursue creative ideas. In my experience, that depends heavily on the team and institutional culture. In my current role, which is largely remote and hybrid, there is a genuine appreciation for the whole person. We are trusted to manage our time and energy, and that autonomy is still very much present.

    The difference is that I now have a healthier kind of control. I set realistic goals for what I can achieve in a given day, while being careful not to let work bleed into personal or family time. That structure allows me to work efficiently and intentionally and it has given me space to reconnect with family, friends, community and nature. For anyone thinking about making this transition, it’s worth having open conversations about team expectations, workflows and culture. Understanding these aspects up front can help you gauge whether the role is a good fit and set you up for long-term satisfaction.

    Q: Recently, you took on an additional role as course co-director of the Capstone for the Dartmouth M.H.A. program. How does that work integrate with your learning design role, and how have you been able to balance both responsibilities?

    A: In many ways, my role as course co-director is a meaningful complement to my work as a learning designer. In this role, I serve as one of the faculty for the capstone course, guiding students as they pull together what they’ve learned across the program and apply it to complex, real-world challenges. It’s been incredibly rewarding to reconnect directly with students, something I’d missed since stepping away from a full-time faculty role.

    What makes this role even more meaningful is that I was one of the learning designers who helped faculty develop many of the courses in the M.H.A. program. Now, I get to see that work come full circle. It provides me with a unique perspective on how our strategies are implemented in practice and highlights opportunities to further refine the learning experience.

    I also appreciate how this teaching role complements, rather than competes with, my work in learning design. My design experience informs how I approach the capstone, helping me think carefully about scaffolding, alignment and authentic assessment. At the same time, teaching keeps me connected to the student perspective, giving me a firsthand understanding of how learners experience our courses. That insight flows directly back into my design work and strengthens my collaborations with faculty.

    Balancing both roles does require intentional structure and realistic expectations. I’ve learned to be clear about what I can reasonably accomplish each week and to protect time for rest, family and personal commitments. I rely on block scheduling to focus on design projects, faculty consultations and capstone mentoring, while making sure these blocks don’t spill into evenings or weekends. Maintaining these boundaries has been essential for sustaining both quality and balance.

    I’m also fortunate to have supportive leadership in both the learning design team and the M.H.A. program, who recognize the value of these complementary roles. That culture of trust and flexibility makes it possible to do both well.

    In many ways, this dual role gives me the best of both worlds: the broader, systemic perspective of learning design and the direct, human connection of teaching. Together, they keep me grounded in why this work matters and allow me to contribute to both faculty and student success in meaningful, sustainable ways.

    Source link