Category: Students

  • Sparking civic engagement as we approach America’s 250th

    Sparking civic engagement as we approach America’s 250th

    Key points:

    Imagine students who understand how government works and who see themselves as vital contributors to their communities. That’s what happens when students are given opportunities to play a role in their school, district, and community. In my work as a teacher librarian, I have learned that even the youngest voices can be powerful, and that students embrace civic responsibility and education when history is taught in a way that’s relevant and meaningful. 

    Now is the moment to build momentum and move our curriculum forward. It’s time to break past classroom walls and unite schools and communities. As our nation’s 250th anniversary approaches, education leaders have a powerful opportunity to teach through action and experience like never before. 

    Kids want to matter. When we help them see themselves as part of the world instead of watching it pass by, they learn how to act with purpose. By practicing civic engagement, students gain the skills to contribute solutions–and often offer unique viewpoints that drive real change. In 2023, I took my students [CR1] to the National Mall. They were in awe of how history was represented in stone, how symbolism was not always obvious, and they connected with rangers from the National Park Service as well as visitors in D.C. that day. 

    When students returned from the Mall, they came back with a question that stuck: “Where are the women?” In 2024, we set out to answer two questions together: “Whose monuments are missing?” and “What is HER name?” 

    Ranger Jen at the National Mall, with whom I worked with before, introduced me to Dr. Linda Booth Sweeney, author of Monument Maker, which inspired my approach. Her book asks, “History shapes us–how will we shape history?” Motivated by this challenge, students researched key women in U.S. history and designed monuments to honor their contributions. 

    We partnered with the Women’s Suffrage National Monument, and some students even displayed their work at the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument. Through this project, questions were asked, lessons were learned, and students discovered the power of purpose and voice. By the end of our community-wide celebration, National Mall Night, they were already asking, “What’s next?” 

    The experience created moments charged with importance and emotion–moments students wanted to revisit and replicate as they continue shaping history themselves. 

    Reflecting on this journey, I realized I often looked through a narrow lens, focusing only on what was immediately within my school. But the broader community, both local and online, is full of resources that can strengthen relationships, provide materials, and offer strategies, mentors, and experiences that extend far beyond any initial lesson plan. 

    Seeking partnerships is not a new idea, but it can be easily overlooked or underestimated. I’ve learned that a “no” often really means “not yet” or “not now,” and that persistence can open doors. Ford’s Theatre introduced me to Ranger Jen, who in turn introduced me to Dr. Sweeney and the Trust for the National Mall. When I needed additional resources, the Trust for the National Mall responded, connecting me with the new National Mall Gateway: a new digital platform inspired by America’s 250th that gives all students, educators and visitors access to explore and connect with history and civics through the National Mall. 

    When I first shared the Gateway with students, it took their breath away. They could reconnect with the National Mall–a place they were passionate about–with greater detail and depth. I now use the platform to teach about monuments and memorials, to prepare for field trips, and to debrief afterward. The platform brings value for in-person visits to the National Mall, and for virtual field trips in the classroom, where they can almost reach out and touch the marble and stone of the memorials through 360-degree video tours. 

    Another way to spark students’ interest in civics and history is to weave civic learning into every subject. The first step is simple but powerful: Give teachers across disciplines the means to integrate civic concepts into their lessons. This might mean collaborating with arts educators and school librarians to design mini-lessons, curate primary sources, or create research challenges that connect past and present. It can also take shape through larger, project-based initiatives that link classroom learning to real-world issues. Science classes might explore the policies behind environmental conservation, while math lessons could analyze community demographics or civic data. In language arts, students might study speeches, letters, or poetry to see how language drives change. When every subject and resource become hubs for civic exploration, students begin to see citizenship as something they live, not just study. 

    Students thrive when their learning has purpose and connection. They remember lessons tied to meaningful experiences and shared celebrations. For instance, one of our trips to the National Mall happened when our fourth graders were preparing for a Veterans Day program with patriotic music. Ranger Jen helped us take it a step further, building on previous partnerships and connections–she arranged for the students to sing at the World War II Memorial. As they performed “America,” Honor Flights unexpectedly arrived. The students were thrilled to sing in the nation’s capital, of course. But the true impact came from their connection with the veterans who had lived the history they were honoring. 

    As our nation approaches its 250th anniversary, we have an extraordinary opportunity to help students see themselves as part of the story of America’s past, present, and future.

    Encourage educator leaders to consider how experiential civics can bring this milestone to life. Invite students to engage in authentic ways, whether through service-learning projects, policy discussions, or community partnerships that turn civic learning into action. Create spaces in your classes for collaboration, reflection, and application, so that students are shaping history, not just studying it. Give students more than a celebration. Give them a sense of purpose and belonging in the ongoing story of our nation. 

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  • Measuring student global competency learning using direct peer connections

    Measuring student global competency learning using direct peer connections

    Key points:

    Our students are coming of age in a world that demands global competency. From economic interdependence to the accelerating effects of climate change and mass migration, students need to develop the knowledge and skills to engage and succeed in this diverse and interconnected world. Consequently, the need for global competency education is more important than ever.

    “Being born into a global world does not make people global citizens,” Andreas Schleicher of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) has said. “We must deliberately and systematically educate our children in global competence.” 

    Here at Global Cities, we regularly talk with educators eager to bring global competency into their classrooms in ways that engage and excite students to learn. Educators recognize the need, but ask a vital question: How do we teach something we can’t measure?

    It’s clear that in today’s competitive and data-driven education environment, we need to expand and evaluate what students need to know to be globally competent adults. Global competency education requires evaluation tools to determine what and whether students are learning.

    The good news is that two recent independent research studies found that educators can use a new tool, the Global Cities’ Codebook for Global Student Learning Outcomesto identify what global competency learning looks like and to assess whether students are learning by examining student writing. The research successfully used the evaluation tool for global competency programs with different models and curricula and across different student populations.

    Global Cities developed the Codebook to help researchers, program designers, and educators identify, teach, and measure global competency in their own classrooms. Created in partnership with Harvard Graduate School of Education’s The Open Canopy, the Codebook captures 55 observable indicators across four core global learning outcomes: Appreciation for Diversity, Cultural Understanding, Global Knowledge, and Global Engagement. The Codebook was developed using data from our own Global Scholars virtual exchange program, which since 2014 has connected more than 139,000 students in 126 cities worldwide to teach global competency.

    In Global Scholars, we’ve seen firsthand the excitement of directly connecting students with their international peers and sparking meaningful discussions about culture, community, and shared challenges. We know how teachers can effectively use the Codebook and how Global Cities workshops extend the reach of this approach to a larger audience of K-12 teachers. This research was designed to determine whether the same tool could be used to assess global competency learning in other virtual exchange programsnot only Global Cities’ Global Scholars program.

    These studies make clear that the Codebook can reliably identify global learning in diverse contexts and help educators see where and how their students are developing global competency skills in virtual exchange curricula. You can examine the tool (the Codebook) here. You can explore the full research findings here.

    The first study looked at two AFS Intercultural Programs curricula, Global You Changemaker and Global Up Teen. The second study analyzed student work from The Open Canopy‘s Planetary Health and Remembering the Past learning journeys.

    In the AFS Intercultural Programs data, researchers found clear examples of students from across the globe showing Appreciation for Diversity and Cultural Understanding. In these AFS online discussion boards, students showed evidence they were learning about their own and other cultures, expressed positive attitudes about one another’s cultures, and demonstrated tolerance for different backgrounds and points of view. Additionally, the discussion boards offered opportunities for students to interact with each other virtually, and there were many examples of students from different parts of the world listening to one another and interacting in positive and respectful ways. When the curriculum invited students to design projects addressing community or global issues, they demonstrated strong evidence of Global Engagement as well.

    Students in The Open Canopy program demonstrated the three most prevalent indicators of global learning that reflect core skills essential to effective virtual exchange: listening to others and discussing issues in a respectful and unbiased way; interacting with people of different backgrounds positively and respectfully; and using digital tools to learn from and communicate with peers around the world. Many of the Remembering the Past posts were especially rich and coded for multiple indicators of global learning.

    Together, these studies show that global competency can be taught–and measured. They also highlight simple, but powerful strategies educators everywhere can use:

    • Structured opportunities for exchange help students listen and interact respectfully with one another
    • Virtual exchange prompts students to share their cultures and experiences across lines of difference in positive, curious ways
    • Assignments that include reflection questions–why something matters, not just what it is–help students think critically about culture and global issues
    • Opportunities for students to give their opinion and to decide to take action, even hypothetically, builds their sense of agency in addressing global challenges

    The Codebook is available free to all educators, along with hands-on professional development workshops that guide teachers in using the tool to design curriculum, teach intentionally, and assess learning. Its comprehensive set of indicators gives educators and curriculum designers a menu of options–some they might not have initially considered–that can enrich students’ global learning experiences.

    Our message to educators is simple: A community of educators (Global Ed Lab), a research-supported framework, and practical tools can help you teach students global competency and evaluate their work.

    The question is no longer whether we need more global competency education. We clearly do. Now with the Codebook and the Global Ed Lab, teachers can learn how to teach this subject matter effectively and use tools to assess student learning.

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  • The 3 learning advantages of 3D printing

    The 3 learning advantages of 3D printing

    Key points:

    It’s truly incredible how much new technology has made its way into the classroom. Where once teaching consisted primarily of whiteboards and textbooks, you can now find tablets, smart screens, AI assistants, and a trove of learning apps designed to foster inquiry and maximize student growth.

    While these new tools are certainly helpful, the flood of options means that educators can struggle to discern truly useful resources from one-time gimmicks. As a result, some of the best tools for sparking curiosity, creativity, and critical thinking often go overlooked.

    Personally, I believe 3D printing is one such tool that doesn’t get nearly enough consideration for the way it transforms a classroom.

    3D printing is the process of making a physical object from a three-dimensional digital model, typically by laying down many thin layers of material using a specialized printer. Using 3D printing, a teacher could make a model of a fossil to share with students, trophies for inter-class competitions, or even supplies for construction activities.

    At first glance, this might not seem all that revolutionary. However, 3D printing offers three distinct educational advantages that have the potential to transform K–12 learning:

    1. It develops success skills: 3D printing encourages students to build a variety of success skills that prepare them for challenges outside the classroom. For starters, its inclusion creates opportunities for students to practice communication, collaboration, and other social-emotional skills. The process of moving from an idea to a physical, printed prototype fosters perseverance and creativity. Meanwhile, every print–regardless of its success–builds perseverance and problem-solving confidence. This is the type of hands-on, inquiry-based learning that students remember.
    2. It creates cross-curricular connections: 3D printing is intrinsically cross-curricular. Professional scientists, engineers, and technicians often use 3D printing to create product models or build prototypes for testing their hypotheses. This process involves documentation, symbolism, color theory, understanding of narrative, and countless other disciplines. It doesn’t take much imagination to see how these could also be beneficial to classroom learning. Students can observe for themselves how subjects connect, while teachers transform abstract concepts into tangible points of understanding.     
    3. It’s aligned with engineering and NGSS: 3D printing aligns perfectly with Next Gen Science Standards. By focusing on the engineering design process (define, imagine, plan, create, improve) students learn to think and act like real scientists to overcome obstacles. This approach also emphasizes iteration and evidence-based conclusions. What better way to facilitate student engagement, hands-on inquiry, and creative expression?

    3D printing might not be the flashiest educational tool, but its potential is undeniable. This flexible resource can give students something tangible to work with while sparking wonder and pushing them to explore new horizons.

    So, take a moment to familiarize yourself with the technology. Maybe try running a few experiments of your own. When used with purpose, 3D printing transforms from a common classroom tool into a launchpad for student discovery.

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  • Graduates are paying more and getting less

    Graduates are paying more and getting less

    There’s an absolutely jaw-dropping passage in this year’s IFS Annual report on education spending in England.

    In total, we now estimate that under current policy, the long-run cost of issuing loans to the 2022–23 starting cohort will be negative (–£0.8 billion), with graduates repaying more than they borrowed, when future repayments are adjusted for inflation.

    In other words, we’ve gone from government suggesting that the state would subsidise undergraduate student loans by about 45p in the pound, to making a profit on them for that cohort.

    Put another way, we’ve stealthily moved from a £4,950 (graduates) £4,050 (state) cost sharing arrangement in the headline tuition fee to a £9,606 (graduates) -£356 (state) split for that 2022 cohort.

    “Tuition fees almost doubled in a decade on average” is not the story that universities tend to tell. But it is, according to the IFS, the reality.

    Floods of tears

    I like to think of the English student loan system as an onion with several layers, all of which make people cry.

    On the surface there’s the headline fee, even though you might not pay that in the end. Below that there’s the “debt” figure that appears on your student loan statement, which is impacted by interest. You may well not pay that either, because student loans are written off after a certain number of years.

    What really matters – several layers down – is the repayment terms. And that 2022 cohort have been double whacked.

    Back in 2022, then universities minister Michelle Donelan announced a response to the Augar review, in which she was “delighted to announce” that she would deliver the Conservatives’ manifesto commitment to address the interest rates on student loans by reducing it to down to inflation only.

    To pay for that reduction in eventual repayments, the new “Plan 5” was only going to write off loans after 40 rather than 30 years, and the repayment threshold would be set at £25,000, rising with inflation from April 2027 onwards.

    But for 2022 starters on the old Plan 2 – the ones with interest rates at RPI-X plus 3 per cent – she also announced a decision to hold the Plan 2 repayment threshold at £27,295 until April 2025.

    Fixing the threshold in cash terms was going to pull more borrowers into repayment and increase repayments year by year, which at the time the IFS said would mean nearly all borrowers would lose from the reform, with graduates with middling earnings set to lose the most:

    And on the Plan 5 changes, the IFS said that cutting the repayment threshold and then freezing it (and changing how it is uprated thereafter), extending the repayment term from 30 to 40 years, and cutting the interest rate to inflation only would result in graduates with lower-middling earnings losing the most, while the highest earners would gain substantially:

    The changes were, in other words, both stealthy and regressive.

    The Pink Panther meets reverse Robin Hood

    In 2022, Labour’s then Shadow Secretary of Education, Bridget Phillipson, said:

    The Tories are delivering another stealth tax for new graduates starting out on their working lives which will hit those on low incomes hardest.

    In her September 2023 speech to Universities UK conference, she said:

    …student finance will be the first to see change, although by no means the last. We have been clear about that from opposition and we will be clear about that from power.

    She was concerned about distributional impact:

    The Tory changes which bite a first cohort of students this autumn are desperately unfair. More unfair on women. More unfair on low earners. More unfair, not just for a few short years, but all through a generation of working lives, with higher loan repayments eating away at pay for young graduates just as they’re starting out on their working lives, and deterring older learners from retraining or upskilling.

    And we got commitments on change, and the speed of that change:

    Future nursing graduates repaying about £60 more a month. The Tories’ choices are hammering the next generation of nurses, teachers and social workers; of engineers, of designers and researchers. It’s wrong. It’s unsustainable. And it’s going to change. And why I tell you today that the next Labour government, whenever it is elected, will move swiftly to right these wrongs.

    In an interview with the Telegraph on 7th October 2023, she doubled down – saying that the new system is “going to become more regressive for lower middle earners” and:

    …is not a sustainable system… we will have to confront that if we win the election.

    And then on BBC Question Time in May 2024, she said:

    I am determined that we can deliver a more progressive system without any more spending or borrowing.

    But rather than deliver on that raft of promises, they’ve done the stealth and regressive thing again.

    Blink and you missed it

    Buried in the Budget in November, chancellor Rachel Reeves announced a freeze in the Plan 2 repayment threshold – it is to be frozen at its April 2026 level (£29,385) for three years.

    There’s been a dribble of political press coverage ever since, focussed mainly on the plight of young graduates and the rise in the minimum wage eroding the graduate premium.

    But (as the IFS point out in their annual report), something else was hiding. As well as the repayment threshold, Plan 2 interest-rate thresholds (the lower and higher thresholds that determine whether interest is charged at RPI, RPI plus 3 per cent, or a sliding rate between) are also to be frozen for three years for Plan 2 grads, at their April 2026 levels (£29,385 and £52,885).

    This was not mentioned at all in the Budget document or speech, but did appear deep in OBR costings – and was subsequently confirmed to the IFS.

    For that 2022 cohort, it means many more borrowers can expect to make repayments for longer, and an increase in the interest accrued. And the IFS says that the latter will have nearly as substantial an impact on lifetime loan repayments as the repayment threshold freeze, and will affect a different set of borrowers.

    Here’s how the IFS calculate the distributional impacts of the changes for that 2022 cohort:

    I’m not sure I could have invented a stealthier, or more regressive change if I tried.

    One thing I note in passing is that the changes to both Plan 2 and Plan 5 are usually accompanied by an equality impact assessment – that hasn’t appeared at all – and the changes to Plan 2 are actually in theory joint changes that require both Welsh and English ministers to lay them jointly.

    Not only has the secondary legislation not appeared, there’s no word yet on whether Welsh ministers are accepting them. And if and when we do get that EIA, let’s not expect much light – given that DfE doesn’t even bother to break down estimates of loan borrower numbers by the rate of interest paid.

    It couldn’t be, could it, that a Treasury desperate to make its excel sheets add up having ruled out income tax increases just decided at the last minute to raid the budgets of Plan 2 graduates in the hope that nobody would notice? Could it?

    The student interest (rate)

    Of course being less “stealthy” does require someone to peel back the onion layers – never the Treasury’s strong suit – and pretty much the only opinion in the Gordian knot on making changes that are less regressive involves higher interest rates. It’s only by asking both Plan 2 and Plan 5 high-earning graduates to pay back more (by paying their “graduate tax” for longer) that you can do it.

    But the political problem of increasing interest rates is significant – because everyone hates interest, especially when it adds to that (often irrelevant) balance figure. And because the system is still labelled as a loan and sold as a loan, and because therefore people assume (hope?) they’ll pay it back some day, more interest sounds bad.

    For that Plan 2 mob, if government had just whacked interest up to a gazillion per cent, all of them would be paying graduate tax for 30 years – with only the most successful graduates paying more. But in that “it’s a bit like a loan and it’s a bit like a tax” dance, tilting the see-saw towards loan will always mean it ends up more regressive.

    In a debate just before Christmas on student loans, Treasury minister Torsten Bell said that there had been a “cross-party consensus” that a fairer system of university funding will require a “lower net contribution to universities from the taxpayer”.

    In 2025, 34 per cent of loan debt for full-time plan 2 graduates was forecast not to be repaid, so what we are talking about is still substantive.

    The Department for Education’s calculation of the RAB charge differs a little from the way the Treasury calculates the subsidy in the accounts every year, and both differ a little from the way the IFS calculates things.

    But Bell was actually referring to the tiny number of students left getting a new Plan 2 loan this year. And at what point has there been a “cross-party consensus” that the subsidy for 2022 entrants should be minus 4 per cent?

    More importantly, why on earth should students who are paying more but getting less be expected to fund the raft of public “goods” expected from their private debt, when the only contribution the state will make for that cohort is running the loan scheme?

    That’s livin’ all wrong

    Elsewhere in the report, there’s analysis on the international levy and the proposed maintenance grants, and a pretty shocking graph on the decline in maintenance loan entitlements per year by household income:

    The upshot there is that despite the government trumpeting that maintenance would be index-increased along with fees, by 2029–30 IFS expects that some students – those with household residual incomes of between £23,400 and £61,400 – may be able to borrow less in real terms than they would be entitled to this academic year, with the largest falls of over £1,100 (around a sixth) for those with household incomes of around £53,000.

    That’s the refusal to uprate the household income threshold since its announcement in 2007 – which will see fewer and fewer students getting the maximum loan as the Parliament continues.

    (Astonishingly, the government’s guidance for the 2025-26 iteration of the Turing scheme now defines “students from disadvantaged backgrounds” as someone with an annual household income of £35,000 or less, up from £25,000 last year. They’d have to be able to afford to participate HE in the first place, mind)

    I’ve not rehearsed here the stealthy abolition of the protection you currently get on the parental contribution when more than one child is in higher education, the miserable state of PG loans (both in repayment and value terms), the shocking state of the level of support for student parents, the slow shift of DSA onto universities’ budgets, the shameful way we treat those on universal credit that are in full-time education, or the ways in which this reduction in the spending envelope will impact the “equivalence” envelope for the loans systems in devolved nations.

    But I will rehearse how far Labour has fallen on student financial support.

    Those were the days

    In January 2004, partly to sweeten the pill over proposals to raise fees to £3,000, then Secretary of State for Education and Skills (Charles Clarke) announced a new package of student finance to ensure that “disadvantaged students will get financial support to study what they want, where they want”.

    From September 2006 there were to be new higher education grants – and maintenance loans were to be raised to the median level of students’ basic living costs as reported by the student income and expenditure survey – to ensure that students have “enough money to meet their basic living costs while studying”.

    The aspiration was to move to a position where the maintenance loan was “no longer means-tested” and available in full to all full-time undergraduates, so students would be treated “as financially independent from the age of 18”. Graduates were to get the optyion of a repayment holiday to ease the burden as they moved into the labour market. And the new Office for Fair Access was to be required to issue additional bursaries to students.

    By July 2007, the then new Secretary of State for Innovation, Universities and Skills, John Denham, went further with new reforms to support for (undergraduate) students in higher education (from England) – to recognise that hard-working families on modest incomes had “concerns about the affordability of university study”.

    The rhetorical flourishes are all pretty similar to those we hear today – but we should, for the sake of argument, look at what has happened since. Even though by the time the changes were implemented the SIES data was a few years old, at least the “we’ll fund basic living costs” principle was there.

    In 2007 DIUS ministers had not been able to persuade the Treasury to abandon means testing – but full grants were to be made available to new students from families with incomes of up to £25,000, compared with £18,360 – along with minimum £310 bursaries from higher education institutions.

    The announcement was accompanied by a document with some handy case studies – Student A, whose parents who had a combined household income of £50,000 and who had a brother who already studying at university; Student B, from from a single parent family with a household income of £20,000; and Student C, living with both parents who had a residual household income of £25,000.

    Here’s what they were entitled to at the time (away from home, outside of London):

    Student A Student B Student C
    Household income 50000 20000 25000
    Grant 560 2825 2825
    Loan 4070 3370 3370
    Guaranteed bursary 310 310
    Total 4630 6505 6505

    That £25,000 household income threshold hasn’t moved since, there’s now no grants (and the ones that are coming derisory), nobody’s guaranteed a bursary (and most universities are reducing their spend on bursaries) and both prices and incomes have risen since.

    So to see how far things have fallen, let’s see what those three students were entitled to last year. Student A’s parents now earn around £83,500; Student B’s single parent family now earns around £33,400; and Student C’s parents earn around £41,750.

    Student A Student B Student C
    Household income 83500 33400 41750
    Maintenance loan 4767 9497 8035

    Now let’s adjust those totals to 2008 prices (RPI) to look what what they’re worth:

    Student A Student B Student C
    Maintenance loan 2569 5117 4330

    And let’s do the comparison in 2008 prices, which shakes down as follows:

    Student A Student B Student C
    2008 4630 6505 6505
    2024 2569 5117 4330
    Inc/Dec -2061 -1388 -2175
    -45% -22% -34%

    Finally, let’s take HEPI’s minimum income standard from 2024 as a way of judging the gap between state (loan) support and what students need – the implied parental/part-time work contribution – we can see the problem in another way as follows (all figures adjusted for 2024 prices via RPI):

    Student A Student B Student C
    2008 £10,040 short £6,561 short £6,561 short
    2024 £13,865 short £10,135 short £10,598 short

    Why are two-thirds of students working? Why is attendance becoming so hard to secure? Why are mental health problems rocketing? Why are more and more students choosing to live at home, restricting their subject and institution choices? Why is youth despair at record levels? Sometimes the answers are pretty obvious, really.

    Levelling down

    Why is all of this happening? An observation on borrowing, and two final graphs from the IFS report tell the real story.

    First, borrowing. Back in 2021, when the government borrowed money on the bond markets to fund student loans, it could do so very cheaply in real terms because interest rates were low and inflation was expected to be higher – so investors were effectively accepting a loss after inflation.

    In practical terms, markets were willing to pay the government about 1.4 per cent a year, after inflation, just to lend it money.

    But today – mainly because Germany is now back in the borrowing game – the situation has reversed. Interest rates on long-term government borrowing are much higher, while expected inflation over the same period is lower, so borrowing now costs the government money in real terms.

    Using the same measure, the government is now paying investors roughly 2.3 per cent a year, after inflation, to finance new student loan borrowing. The swing from a negative to a positive real cost is large, and it materially changes how expensive student loans are for the public finances – just not in way that is especially (or, in fact, at all) transparent.

    And then there’s the IFS education spending squid:

    To be fair to ministers, it’s true that the research says you can make the most difference on life chances by investing in early years. Substantially, coupled with investment in NEETs and those in further education, we are seeing ministerial priorities manifest over time:

    But none of the research that underpins those priorities weighs up cutting the spend on HE to fund everything else, which will mean spend per student will soon be just 44 per cent greater than primary school spending per pupil, having been almost four times greater in the early 1990s.

    More importantly, there simply hasn’t been a proper debate about the share of that blue line that should be paid by the state versus the share (eventually) paid by graduates since the grand promises of the early 2010s.

    We now, by some very substantial measure, have easily the most expensive state higher education system in Europe from a student/graduate point of view – a system which see the recipients paying more and more, getting less and less, and having less money (and therefore time) to participate in what’s there – resulting in worse educational outcomes (as measured internationally), and worse mental health.

    And it’s a system in which, thanks to graphs like this and the regressive nature of the loans changes described above, where distributionally, the losers are also those least likely to benefit from the great boomer wealth transfer that is coming in the next decade:

    Add it all up, and it means that the role that higher education once thought it played in social mobility is pretty much dead. From here, talk like that I’ll be an angel then things can only get worse.

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  • Supporting students and free speech on campus requires reform

    Supporting students and free speech on campus requires reform

    The recent polling on students’ views on free speech, published by HEPI, presents what looks like a confusing and muddled picture of students’ perspectives.

    On the one hand, today’s students appear more alert to the demands of safety and security than previous cohorts, with increased support for the use of content warnings, safe space policies, and a decent majority (63 per cent) who agree with the premise that protection from discrimination and ensuring the dignity of minorities can be more important than unlimited freedom of expression.

    On the other, the same cohort of students expresses support for a good number of principled free speech positions, with 70 per cent agreeing that universities should never limit free speech, and 52 per cent that education should “not be comfortable” because “universities are places of debate and challenging ideas.” There is also increased support for the proposition that “a lot of student societies are overly sensitive.”

    If you’re searching for coherence in students’ position then none of our collective mental models seems to apply – whether that’s a “woke” model (in the pejorative sense of snowflake students drawing equivalence of mild offence with grievous bodily harm), or from the classical liberal pro-free speech standpoint. These, we are forced to conclude, may not be the mental models current students are using in their understanding of navigating complex political territory.

    One of the characteristics of the free speech debate has been that a lot has been said about students, and the sort of environment they ought to be exposed to while on campus, but rather less attention has been paid to what students might want to say, or what purposes and values they attach to political debate and civic participation. The current political climate is, to put it mildly, grim as hell – raucous, accusatory, significantly short on empathy and compassion and, worst of all, not producing significant improvements in young people’s lives.

    Given that context, it might not be all that surprising that most students want at least one political party banned from campus – it was Reform topping the poll that caught the headlines last week, but I find more significant that only 18 per cent of students said that no political party should be banned from campus. Could it be that students don’t feel the parties have all that much to offer them?

    The winds are changing

    This is a deeply pertinent question for contemporary student leaders, who frequently find themselves in the cross-fire of these debates.

    Speaking to student leaders about free speech policy, particularly in the wake of the Office for Students’ intervention at the University of Sussex, there’s a growing challenge for institutions to confidently be a political actor on campus. And for students there is a real sense that their attitudes to politics at university are changing.

    On my regular briefing calls with student unions I run through the top ten things happening in policy that month, and recently there’s been a steady influx of questions about what happens when students get frustrated that there’s a new student society on campus that they ideologically disagree with.

    At one students’ union a group of Reform supporting students filed to be a registered SU society following the US election in 2024. Even if the Higher Education Freedom of Speech Act wasn’t around, the SU would still be required to register and ratify the society – the only difference now is it’s clearer they must follow the joint free speech code with the university. Students signed petitions and directed their anger at the SU for ratifying the society in the first place and any subsequent events held by ReformSoc were met with student protest (also protected under the terms of the new legislation).

    The protests centered around the events being a threat to safety on campus, fearing events would border on hate speech and that the SU no longer reflected or represented them. Students that protested likely support abstract principles of free speech, yet these don’t neatly map onto what they fear may be its results. The ratification and later protests did the rounds on social media and got the attention of the public at which point a rush of unpleasant comments and attacks headed towards the SU.

    In one sense all this is as it should be – the society was enabled to exist, those who wanted to protest did so – but it’s doubtful that much actual debate took place, or that many minds were changed. The SU leaders involved were left trying desperately to stick to the law, facilitate student political engagement, keep the peace, and protect themselves from increasingly vicious attacks for doing so.

    Statements and action about EDI, decolonisation or the recent trans ruling are wrapped up in a new sense of nervousness that will frustrate both ends of the student political spectrum, albeit in different ways. I did enjoy speaking to one team who told me the frustration from students about ReformSocs has led them to put on more EDI based events in the hope more students keep coming, find their safe spaces and recognise that the campus still represents them.

    Making it happen

    All this is contributing to a real tension when it comes to understanding how SUs can best support students and student leaders to become political actors, and agentive citizens. Both the toxicity of the current political environment and the regulations that are intended to try to lay down some principles to manage it, are difficult for student leaders to navigate.

    Now that the free speech legislation is in force, the next debate needs to be about how we get to a space where universities and SUs are agents of civic and political action which isn’t seen exclusively through the lens of “woke” or even the classical liberal position – but something more directly applicable to students’ lived experience of engaging with these tricky political issues.

    There needs to be a deeper understanding and discussion within the student movement, supported by institutions, of the importance of having a plurality of ideas on campus and recognition of the particularities of the current political moment. For university to be both a safe space and also a space to be challenged, the mode of challenge needs to be tailored to the issues and the context.

    In the conversations I’ve had there’s a willingness to try and convert the protest energy into political action, to push SUs to continue to be political agents and welcoming of debate, developing students’ civic identities. I’d love to see debates about free speech reframed as an exciting opportunity, something which already allows diverse student thought, often through student societies. But just sticking to the rules and principles won’t deliver this – we need to move the conversation to the practicalities of making this happen.

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  • The Renters’ Rights Act is a disaster for independent students

    The Renters’ Rights Act is a disaster for independent students

    The Renters’ Rights Act is a transformative piece of legislation set to benefit renters through greater security and lower costs, except for one major blind spot.

    In particular, it may act as a homelessness pipeline for independent students – the status given by Student Finance England to students without external familial support while at university.

    Particularly vulnerable are those who are estranged, without living parents, or are care-leavers.

    The summer gap

    One of the key measures in the Renters’ Rights Act is the replacement of fixed-term tenancies with periodic tenancies, i.e., tenancies will be rolling, not fixed-term.

    This benefits most students, as it means that contracts can be terminated by tenants in May or June when the academic year is over, instead of being trapped in a twelve-month fixed-term contract.

    This creates the first major problem for independent students.

    Independent students rarely live exclusively with others who require year-round accommodation, and for many doing so may not be an option. So, instead of the security of a year-long contract guaranteeing accommodation, the landscape may shift so that most shared student rentals are only available between September and June.

    If independent students do manage to seek one another out and live together, this may seem to be one fix to this issue; it isn’t.

    Another key measure in the Renters’ Rights Act is to end no-fault evictions. However, there is a carve-out for student landlords to be able to evict students on a no-fault basis between June and September, provided they live in a student-only HMO. This is a major issue for students who do not have a home to return to.

    Then, there is the option for independent students to live in university halls. Unfortunately, this isn’t a secure option in many universities either. The Renters’ Rights Act allows purpose-built student accommodation to maintain fixed-term contracts. They are often only available from September to June, with providers utilising their accommodation over summer months for other uses.

    Where twelve-month tenancies are available, many purpose-built student accommodation blocks are significantly more expensive than student house shares.

    An independence tax

    Every option available to independent students is likely to add substantial costs. It seems improbable that student landlords will simply swallow the cost of having two or three fewer months of rental income over the academic year. So, there is a strong incentive for student landlords to up the cost of renting for the September to June period to a similar level to what it currently costs for twelve-month contracts.

    While the Renters’ Rights Act allows tenants to challenge unfair rises in rent, this isn’t a particularly effective measure for student housing; students are an incredibly transient group of tenants who can’t challenge an increase prior to being a tenant.

    All that is before considering the loss of the only cost-free workaround for students without a guarantor – upfront rental payments. Often, independent students have avoided the need for a UK-based guarantor by paying several months of rent in advance.

    However, the Renters’ Rights Act is set to curtail this practice by capping the amount of rent a landlord can request upfront. Without the option to pay upfront, these students will be forced toward private guarantor schemes, which are commercial services that typically charge a non-refundable fee in the region of 10 per cent of annual rent.

    Time for an extended maintenance loan

    Without substantially changing the Renters’ Rights Act to the detriment of most students, there seems to be no easy fix available beyond providing additional financial support for independent students.

    Last year, I called for the government to implement an extended maintenance loan aligned with the uplift available for other students who need year-long maintenance support – those on a “long course” – the name for those on a course which runs longer than thirty weeks and three days.

    When I wrote for Wonkhe to launch the campaign for an extended maintenance loan, I predicted that the government would make good on their promise of grants primarily to benefit the Department for Education’s public relations department. This prediction has come true – the government reintroduced grants for the poorest students, on specific courses.

    Unfortunately, this isn’t the progressive silver bullet it sounds like. It means that those students on those courses eligible for grants will repay less in the future. This benefit only materialises if, at some point in the future, their income is of an adequate level to be able to repay their loan in full – which is predicted to be about half of borrowers by the government.

    It’s a nice middle-earner’s income bonus in middle-age for a small number of students. While a step in the right direction and not to be scorned, it’s not the radical progressive reform it’s touted as. It changes nothing for the students struggling to cover basic living costs and, for example, being forced to live at home during their degree, which is around one-third of undergraduates according to UCAS, the highest level ever recorded – and not an option for independent students.

    There were some incremental improvements for care-leavers last year, who are no longer to be means assessed if entering higher education after the age of twenty-five. Indeed, the government is making progress on strengthening support for care-leavers.

    Ensuring more robust implementation of care-leaver “Pathway Plans” – a statutory duty which means local authorities must support care-leavers up to the age of twenty-five – would go a long way to helping this specific group with additional costs due to the aforementioned issues, too.

    A new barrier to be broken

    So, the Renters’ Rights Act, which I should be clear that I largely support and will myself benefit from, has a blind spot. It’s one I’ve raised, and multiple supportive MPs have raised, too.Independent students, particularly care-leavers, estranged students, and students with no living parents, already have a much higher attrition rate and a large attainment gap.

    This blind spot may lead to homelessness and act as a further deterrent for this group to access higher education and reach their full potential.You could say it is a barrier to opportunity, hoisted up by a government committed to breaking all the other barriers down.

    If the government is serious about its “Barriers to Opportunity” mission, it cannot allow a housing reform to become a homelessness pipeline for the very students who have already overcome the most to get to university.

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  • Reimagining teacher preparation to include student mental health supports

    Reimagining teacher preparation to include student mental health supports

    Key points:

    Teacher preparation programs have long emphasized curriculum, instruction, and assessment. However, they often fall short in one critical area: social-emotional and mental health needs of students.

    We work daily with students whose academic success is inseparable from their psychological well-being. Nonetheless, we witness new educators wishing they were trained in not just behavior management, but, nowadays, the non-academic needs of children. If preservice programs are going to meet the demands of today’s classrooms, they must include deeper coursework in counseling, psychology, and trauma-informed teaching practices.

    Students today are carrying heavier emotional burdens than ever before. Anxiety, bullying, depression, grief, trauma exposure (including complex trauma), and chronic stress are unfortunately quite common. The fallout rarely appears in uniform, typical, or recognizable ways. Instead, it shows up as behaviors teachers must interpret and address (i.e., withdrawal, defiance, irritability, avoidance, conflict, aggression and violence, or inconsistent work).

    Without formal training, it is easy to label these actions as simple “misbehaviors” instead of asking why. However, seasoned educators and mental health professionals know that behaviors (including misbehaviors) are a means of communication, and understanding the root cause of a student’s actions is essential to creating a supportive and effective classroom.

    Oftentimes, adults fall into a pattern of describing misbehaviors by children as “manipulative” as opposed to a need not being met. As such, adults (including educators) need to shift their mindsets. This belief is supported by research. Jean Piaget reminds us that children’s cognitive and emotional regulation skills are still developing and naturally are imperfect. Lev Vygotsky reminds us that learning and behavior are shaped by the quality of a child’s social interactions, including with the adults (such as teachers) in their lives. Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy further reinforces that psychological safety and belonging must be met before meaningful learning or self-control can occur, and teachers need to initiate psychological safety.

    Traditional classroom management training is often sparse in traditional preservice teacher training. It often emphasizes rules, procedures, and consequences. They absolutely matter, but the reality is far more nuanced. Behavior management and behavior recognition are not the same. A student who shuts down may be experiencing anxiety. A child who blurts out or becomes agitated may be reacting to trauma triggers in the environment. A student who frequently acts out may be seeking connection or stability in the only way they know how. Trauma-informed teaching (rooted in predictability, emotional safety, de-escalation, and relationship-building) is not just helpful, but is foundational in modern schools. Yet, many new teachers enter the profession with little to no formal preparation in these practices.

    The teacher shortage only heightens this need. Potential educators are often intimidated not by teaching content, but by the emotional and behavioral demands that they feel unprepared to address. Meanwhile, experienced teachers often cite burnout stemming from managing complex behaviors without adequate support. Courses focused on child development, counseling skills, and trauma-informed pedagogy would significantly improve both teacher confidence and retention. It would also be beneficial if subject-area experts (such as the counseling or clinical psychology departments of the higher education institution) taught these courses.

    Of note, we are not suggesting that teachers become counselors. School counselors, social workers, psychologists, and psychometrists play essential and irreplaceable roles. However, teachers are the first adults to observe subtle shifts in their students’ behaviors or emotional well-being. Oftentimes, traditional behavior management techniques and strategies can make matters worse in situations where trauma is the root cause of the behavior. When teachers are trained in the fundamentals of trauma-informed practice and creating emotionally safe learning environments, they can respond skillfully. They can collaborate with or refer students to clinical mental-health professionals for more intensive support.

    Teacher preparation programs must evolve to reflect the emotional realities of today’s classrooms. Embedding several clinically grounded courses in counseling, psychology, and trauma-informed teaching (taught by certified and/or practicing mental-health professionals) would transform the way novice educators understand and support their students. This would also allow for more studies and research to take place on the effectiveness of various psychologically saturated teaching practices, accounting for the ever-changing psychosocial atmosphere. Students deserve teachers who can see beyond behaviors and understand the rationale beneath it. Being aware of behavior management techniques (which is often pretty minimal as teacher-prep programs stand now) is quite different than understanding behaviors. Teachers deserve to be equipped with both academic and emotional tools to help every learner thrive.

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  • Parliament has debated a statutory duty of care again

    Parliament has debated a statutory duty of care again

    There has been a new parliamentary debate on a statutory duty of care for universities, which returned to Westminster Hall following a similar debate in 2023.

    I had trouble finding some of the background material – it’s perhaps unfortunate that the Nottingham Trent webpage that was hosting all of the outputs and guidance notionally attached to the Higher Education Student Support Champion and the Department for Education’s Higher education mental health implementation taskforce now redirects to a picture and bio of new Trent VC Dave Petley.

    It’s not at all clear why things like the guidance on Compassionate Communications or the National review of higher education student suicide deaths are, as a result, scattered across the internet, but there is almost certainly a metaphor in there somewhere.

    Uncertainty

    Opening the debate, Labour’s James Naish (Rushcliffe) argued that the current legal framework leaves “too much uncertainty for students and institutions alike”, noting a rise in students disclosing mental health conditions and confusion over what students can and can’t expect.

    The law develops only after harm has occurred through costly and traumatic litigation brought by those least able to bear that burden.

    Naish noted that a 2023 survey by the suicide prevention charity CALM found just 12 per cent of students believe their university handles mental health well, and referenced a British Medical Association survey of medical students published shortly before Christmas that called for a statutory duty, specifically citing concerns about sexism and sexual violence towards medical students.

    Contributors shared harrowing constituency cases throughout the debate. Labour’s Llinos Medi (Ynys Môn) recounted the death of Mared Foulkes, a pharmacy student who died by suicide after receiving incorrect exam results from Cardiff University. Medi described the current situation as:

    A postcode lottery in terms of quality and accessibility of mental health care.

    Labour’s Lizzi Collinge (Morecambe and Lunesdale) described how Oskar, a student at Sheffield Hallam living with a brain injury, attempted suicide but his parents were never informed despite giving explicit consent for contact. Chadwick said the university later argued that this consent applied only to physical injuries, not to an attempt to take his own life. He proposed a practical safeguard:

    Every student to nominate a trusted point of contact when they enrol, to be used in the event of a serious concern.”

    Chadwick also highlighted data from the government’s National Review of higher education student suicide deaths, noting that reports were submitted for only 62 per cent of serious incidents, families were not involved in three quarters of investigations, and in 71 per cent of reports it was unclear whether there had been senior sign-off.

    The DUP’s Jim Shannon (Strangford) highlighted that around 30 per cent of Northern Ireland students study on the UK mainland, making the issue directly pertinent to families in his constituency. He cited statistics on the prevalence of anxiety and mental health issues among young people in Northern Ireland and stressed:

    Independence is not the same as isolation.

    He called for discussions between the minister and the devolved administrations to work collectively across the United Kingdom.

    Labour’s Warinder Juss (Wolverhampton West), a former personal injury solicitor, provided legal analysis, describing it as “quite shocking” that common law does not impose a duty of care on universities when such duties exist:

    In prisons, hospitals, primary, secondary schools and colleges of further education… for doctor to patient, solicitor to client, manufacturer to consumer, and one road user to another.

    She walked through the Abrahart v University of Bristol case in detail, and noted that had a duty of care existed:

    There would have been a breach of that duty, and the university would consequently have been negligent.

    A statutory duty, she argued, would “define expectations, embed accountability and promote prevention” while bringing UK law into line with the United States and Australia. She also pushed back on the idea that relying on the Equality Act is sufficient, noting that while some cases involve a history of engagement and diagnosis:

    In many other cases, it could be something that the student suddenly finds himself in this situation.

    Students without a formal disability diagnosis would fall through the gaps.

    Labour’s Rachel Maskell (York Central) broadened the debate to include the intersection of pressures students face, and emphasised that students who struggle academically must always have “a second chance”.

    Labour’s Tom Hayes (Bournemouth East) raised implementation questions, noting that any statutory duty would need clarity on what it means in a higher education context and must intersect with existing safeguarding responsibilities, health and safety law and equality legislation. He also asked:

    Who would monitor and regulate compliance? Would it fall under Ofsted? Would it fall under the Office for Students, the DfE, or a new regulatory body?

    Labour’s Mary Kelly Foy (City of Durham) highlighted the particular vulnerability of care-experienced and estranged students, citing a Unite Foundation report that “well over a quarter” face financial concerns that “directly damage their mental health”. She noted the scale of the increase in students disclosing mental health conditions since 2011, and argued that a statutory duty need not mean in loco parentis monitoring:

    A professional standard of care providing the same level of protection that we would expect from an employer or a healthcare provider.”

    A statutory duty would also provide clarity on data sharing to empower pastoral teams to involve emergency contacts without fearing that they are breaching GDPR – an issue raised repeatedly throughout the debate as universities have used data protection as a reason not to contact families. But Foy cautioned that concerns raised by the University and College Union must be addressed:

    Simply imposing a duty of care on universities won’t work if already overstretched staff and underfunded pastoral teams are simply expected to pick up the pieces.”

    Labour’s Kerry McCarthy (Bristol East) raised the question of whether a statutory duty of care is the mechanism needed to bring smaller and less prominent higher education providers on board, or whether there might be another way to ensure consistency across the sector.

    The Liberal Democrat spokesperson argued that the voluntary university mental health charter – to which just over 100 of 165 universities have signed up – must become more than an aspiration:

    A voluntary aspiration must evolve to a rigorous accountability mechanism… with clear standards, regular independent assessment and consequences for non-compliance.

    Conservative shadow spokesperson Nick Timothy (West Suffolk) acknowledged that while their party’s position on a statutory duty is not yet fully established, “we certainly need to do a lot better than we’re doing right now.” He also bolted on a bunch of stuff about freedom of speech.

    The response

    Responding for the government, Skills Minister Josh McAlister began by acknowledging “the profound pain” felt by families who have lost loved ones and paying tribute to the Abraharts’ “tireless work” and the families from the LEARN Network “who continue to work alongside us to drive change.” He was unequivocal that change was needed:

    This government believes that change in this regard is needed.

    He then outlined recent government actions, including publication of the National Review of higher education student suicides, the extension of the Higher Education Mental Health Implementation Taskforce with updated terms of reference published in December 2025, and the appointment of Steve West to replace Edward Peck Higher Education Student Support Champion. He emphasised that the taskforce’s priorities include:

    Exploring the most effective mechanisms for holding the sector to account.

    On NHS capacity, McAlister noted the government is “recruiting eight and a half thousand additional NHS mental health staff by the end of this Parliament” and said the taskforce would shortly publish a report showcasing five successful higher education and NHS partnerships. He urged universities not already in such partnerships:

    …to study these models and explore how they can forge an approach that works for their local context.

    Perhaps inevitably, McAlister stopped short of committing to a statutory duty of care. He repeated the argument that universities already have a general duty of care under common law to deliver educational and pastoral services “to the standard of an ordinarily competent institution” and are expected to act reasonably. He also pointed to existing protections under the Equality Act 2010, which requires reasonable adjustments for disabled students including those with mental health conditions, and said:

    Where a severe or urgent condition is apparent, reasonable adjustments should be made without waiting for a formal diagnosis or medical evidence.

    On why the government was not introducing a statutory duty, McAlister raised concerns about unintended consequences:

    It is not just a question of drafting. It would require defining a minimum legal standard for universities, which risks becoming a ceiling rather than a floor.

    …and warned that a statutory duty:

    …could drive providers towards defensive compliance and litigation instead of focusing on what really matters, spotting problems early, making timely adjustments and learning from serious incidents.

    He also noted that:

    Almost all students are adults. Introducing a special statutory duty for them could be disproportionate when the evidence shows that students in higher education have a lower suicide rate than others in the same age in the general population.

    McAlister was quick to add this was “not in any way to minimise the problem at universities” but to “highlight the need for a proportionate response that strikes the right balance.”

    His conclusion offered continued engagement but no commitment to legislate:

    We will continue to monitor the evidence, listen deeply to bereaved families and hold providers to account. But right now, the fastest and most effective route to support safer campuses is for universities to embed the recommendations from the National Review and best practice identified through the task force’s outputs.

    Round in circles

    McAlister’s rejection of a statutory duty rested on three key arguments – that adequate legal protections already exist, that a statutory duty risks becoming “a ceiling rather than a floor,” and that students have a lower suicide rate than their peers in the general population. But is he right?

    McAlister’s assertion that universities already have a general duty of care under common law to deliver services “to the standard of an ordinarily competent institution” has been repeated by successive ministers since 2023, but its legal basis is questionable.

    The source has been traced to an AMOSSHE policy breakfast blog published in 2015 – since deleted from its original website. When tested in court in Abrahart v University of Bristol, the judge found no relevant common law duty existed.

    In Feder and McCamish v The Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, the court found a limited duty only because the institution failed to follow its own voluntary procedures – it explicitly did not recognise any general duty to protect student welfare.

    Freedom of Information requests seeking the legal authority for the government’s position have been refused under legal professional privilege. The government has never identified a court, judge, or case supporting its assertion. As one legal analysis noted, the government’s response “has no legal weight” – a view shared by the defendant’s own barrister in the Royal Welsh case.

    McAlister warned that a statutory duty would drive “defensive compliance and litigation” rather than genuine care. But the behaviours critics fear – defensive reliance on process, fragmentation of responsibility, procedural rigidity, retrospective rather than proactive responses – are arguably already characteristic of the current voluntary system.

    Universities operate through dense policy layers designed to manage liability rather than responsibility. The absence of clear accountability has not produced proactive care – it has produced risk management in which no one is clearly responsible when foreseeable harm occurs.

    Bob Abrahart’s analogy with seatbelt legislation is fascinating – before the law changed, critics warned compulsory seatbelts would encourage passive compliance rather than active judgment. What actually happened was that the law reset baseline expectations, and culture followed. A statutory duty would not prevent universities exceeding minimum standards – it would ensure none falls below them.

    You could make a raft of similar arguments, by the way, about harassment and sexual misconduct. But just yesterday in the House of Lords skills minister Jacqui Smith pointed to “unacceptable levels of sexual harassment and abuse of girls within our schools and universities,” and pointed to the recently introduced Office for Students regulatory requirements on harassment and sexual misconduct as steps towards creating safer campus environments and improving institutional accountability.

    Why are regulatory requirements the answer on that issue, but a danger on this?

    McAlister also noted that students have a lower suicide rate than others of the same age, suggesting a statutory duty would be “disproportionate.” But for many, the framing is misleading.

    University students are not representative of their age group – they have passed academic and financial thresholds to reach higher education, and many with acute mental health challenges never arrive or leave when unwell. A lower rate among a pre-selected, relatively advantaged population is expected – that it is not dramatically lower should concern, not reassure.

    Universities are supposed to be semi-protected environments with pastoral care, support services, and trained staff. If the benchmark is whether students are safer inside higher education than outside it, the answer is far from clear. The reality of 160 deaths per year – more than three every week – hardly supports complacency.

    Aggregate rates also conceal inequalities – male students die at more than twice the rate of female students, first-year undergraduates face significantly higher risk, and part-time students have higher rates than full-time peers.

    Wait and see

    The most prominent commitment Halfon made – that all universities would sign up to the mental health charter by September 2024 – was not achieved. Membership increased to 113 universities, covering approximately 90 per cent of students, but fell short of universal coverage.

    More significantly, sign-up does not equal meaningful engagement – as of May 2025, only 17 institutions had actually been awarded charter status, and most of those achieved only “award with conditions.” The gap between signing up and embedding its principles illustrates a recurring pattern – outputs were produced, but outcomes remain elusive.

    The National review of higher education student suicides was delivered – conducted by NCISH and published in May 2025. There is as yet no sign that engagement with its recommendations for universities will be even monitored, let alone action taken.

    The Compassionate Communication Statement that Halfon promised was published and shared with the sector by December 2024, but adoption remains voluntary. There is no requirement for universities to follow it, and no sign even of monitoring that it’s been considered let alone implemented.

    Plenty of SUs I’ve spoken to tell me that a) it’s never been considered formally inside their committee structures, and even where it has b) there’s been little on monitoring adoption across a university’s diverse departments. There has also c) been a sense in some universities that it doesn’t apply in some scenarios – like when a student is accused of an assessment offence, or being chased for tuition fee payments.

    A Competency framework for non-specialist staff was published in February 2025, but it too is merely “advisory” – taskforce members raised concerns that because training is not mandatory, many staff groups may simply “opt out.”

    Other commitments have stalled or failed entirely. Information sharing between schools and universities to identify at-risk students before arrival remains, in the taskforce’s own words, “a complex and time-consuming task.” UCAS has expressed “limited appetite” for changes to the reference process, and proposed “wellbeing passports” face significant cost and viability barriers.

    Student analytics and early warning systems have not been rolled out – taskforce minutes show “major obstacles remain” and many providers feel they are “too far away” from implementation.

    Guidance on restricting access to means of suicide was published in September 2024, but the national review found this was “rarely addressed” in university incident reports, with only one out of eight relevant reports recommending any action.

    There’s also lots in the minutes on whether, how, if and so on there should be engagement with or compliance from FE providers, small and specialist, franchised and so on. Years abroad, placements and so on, not to much.

    Crucially, the regulatory threat that underpinned Halfon’s approach has not materialised. He warned that if the sector response was unsatisfactory, he would ask the Office for Students to introduce a new registration condition on mental health. How would DfE even know?

    What could be done?

    As to how any duty might actually work, it’s not as if there aren’t some interesting examples that deserve further interrogation.

    Sweden treats students as equivalent to employees for the purposes of workplace safety law. The Work Environment Act 1977 explicitly extends its protections to “persons undergoing education or training,” so university students are covered by the same statutory framework that protects workers.

    The Higher Education Ordinance then reinforces this by requiring institutions to provide students with access to healthcare – “particularly preventive healthcare that aims to support students’ physical and mental health” – and a “good environment in which to study.”

    What makes the Swedish system particularly robust is its enforcement through student representation. Student unions appoint studerandeskyddsombud (student safety representatives) who have formal statutory rights to participate in work environment activities.

    These reps sit on safety committees alongside staff, participate in inspections of teaching premises, and can raise concerns about both physical and psychosocial study environments directly with university leadership. Universities have to provide training on work environment legislation, and the Swedish Work Environment Authority supervises compliance and can intervene against institutions.

    Responsibility for the work environment lies with the institution and ultimately with the management – but students have formal standing to identify problems and demand action.

    Meanwhile Australia embeds student wellbeing within a regulatory framework with real consequences. Domain 2 of the Higher Education Standards Framework includes a dedicated section on “Wellbeing and Safety,” requiring providers to promote a safe environment, provide timely advice on support services, and ensure services reflect student needs including mental health and wellbeing.

    The Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency (TEQSA) has statutory powers to register providers, assess compliance, and take enforcement action. All providers must be registered, and registration must be renewed at least every seven years. Meeting wellbeing and safety standards is not optional – it is a condition of being permitted to operate.

    Both models offer lessons. Sweden demonstrates that students can be brought within existing workplace safety legislation without creating unworkable burdens – the framework already exists for employees, and extending it to students is a matter of legal definition. Australia demonstrates that wellbeing requirements can be embedded in registration conditions enforced by an education regulator with powers to sanction non-compliance.

    England already has the Office for Students as a sector regulator with power to impose registration conditions. The question ministers have repeatedly declined to answer is why wellbeing and safety in the learning environment should not be among them.

    Both Sweden and Australia show this is not novel or untested – it is just how other comparable jurisdictions protect their students. Surely a Tertiary Professional Standard can’t be beyond the sector to meet?

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  • Universities need standards, not role models

    Universities need standards, not role models

    The debate about duty of care in higher education has been obscured by the repeated collapse of distinct legal questions into a single, unresolved argument.

    In particular, discussion of whether a duty of care exists is routinely conflated with questions about what responsibility would require in practice.

    That confusion has prevented sustained analysis of the standards by which conduct should be judged, which is where responsibility acquires real content.

    To address that problem, this article deliberately limits the scope of its analysis. It does not engage with the minimal, background obligation that applies to everyone not to cause foreseeable and substantial harm to others.

    That obligation is universal and requires very little: it is ordinarily satisfied by avoiding obvious risks in everyday activity, and it doerobert as not involve the design of systems, the monitoring of risk, or the anticipation of harm beyond what is immediately apparent.

    Nor does this article seek to resolve the threshold question of whether, and in what precise circumstances, an overarching institutional duty arises in higher education. That question turns on context and relationship and can be answered in different ways as a matter of law.

    This limitation is adopted for a reason. Disputes about the existence or outer boundaries of duty tend to obscure the more significant and unresolved issue of how responsibility should be exercised in practice.

    The analysis proceeds on the assumption that, as in other recognised institutional and professional contexts, a relationship-based duty may arise where organisations undertake defined functions and create foreseeable risks through their systems and decision-making.

    On that assumption, the central question is not whether duty exists, but how it should be discharged. The focus is accordingly on the standards by which responsibility should be assessed in a modern university, rather than on analogies or models of conduct borrowed from different fields.

    Duty establishes responsibility; standards give it content

    In law, a duty and the standard by which conduct is assessed perform different functions. The duty establishes that responsibility arises at all. It is a gateway concept, triggered where there is a sufficient relationship and a risk of foreseeable harm.

    Once a duty exists, it doesn’t prescribe outcomes or require the provision of any particular form of “care” in the everyday sense of that word. Rather, it establishes that those with responsibility must avoid carelessness in their actions or inaction, including in how systems are designed and how decisions are taken where foreseeable harm may arise.

    What counts as reasonable, and therefore what amounts to carelessness, is not determined by the existence of the duty itself, but by what is reasonably required in the circumstances, having regard to the role performed, the functions undertaken, and the context in which decisions are made.

    The practical consequences of this distinction are straightforward but often overlooked. Responsibility does not take a single, uniform form. What it requires depends on the nature of the activity undertaken, the role being performed, and the degree of reliance and risk created in the circumstances. The same underlying obligation not to act carelessly will therefore be expressed very differently in different settings.

    Crucially, it also requires that foreseeable risks are addressed rather than deferred – responsibility is not discharged by ignoring warning signs, postponing decisions, or allowing procedural drift to substitute for timely action where intervention is reasonably required.

    The distinction is often easiest to see through the lens of professional systems. A stranger has no obligation to warn you of an approaching storm. An airline, by contrast, has invited you into its system and possesses the radar to see the danger. It can’t stop the storm, and it’s not your parent – but it does have a responsibility arising from how it manages risk.

    Borrowed standards obscure, rather than clarify, responsibility

    Discussions of responsibility in higher education are frequently derailed by the use of inappropriate comparisons.

    When questions are raised about what universities should reasonably be expected to do, the response is often to reach for an existing and familiar model from elsewhere – parenting, custody, clinical practice, or institutional supervision. These comparisons are then used to argue that universities either cannot, or should not, be held responsible in similar ways.

    This mode of argument rests on a basic mistake. It assumes that responsibility must always be understood by analogy to some other established setting, and that the only question is which existing model should be imported (never mind that none of them quite fit). The result is a debate conducted by comparison rather than analysis, in which standards developed for very different purposes are treated as benchmarks against which responsibility in higher education is judged.

    The problem is not that these other standards exist. It is that they are being used in the wrong way.

    One obligation, assessed differently across contexts

    Across the law, there is not a proliferation of different duties corresponding to different institutions. In each case there is an underlying obligation not to act carelessly where responsibility arises. What varies is how that obligation is assessed in different contexts. The law doesn’t ask whether an institution resembles a parent, a prison, or a hospital. It asks what avoiding careless conduct reasonably requires, given the role performed, the functions undertaken, and the risks created.

    Standards developed in other settings reflect those settings. Parental and apprenticeship standards arose where there was dependency and close supervision. Custodial standards reflect confinement and control. Clinical standards reflect specialist expertise, regulation, and professional judgement. Each provides a way of judging conduct in its own context. None is a universal template, and none can be transplanted wholesale into a different institutional environment without distortion.

    Using these standards as analogies for higher education therefore tells us very little about what universities should reasonably be expected to do. At best, such comparisons show what higher education is not. They don’t tell us what it is.

    In loco parentis explains the past – it does not define the present

    The continued invocation of in loco parentis illustrates this problem clearly. Parents owe a duty to their children, but they are judged according to a parental standard shaped by dependency, authority, and control. In loco parentis did not create a special or additional duty. It applied that parental standard to educational institutions at a time when students were young, dependent, and subject to close supervision.

    The difficulty today is not that universities are being asked to revive this model. It is that in loco parentis is still treated as a reference point, either to be defended or rejected, rather than as a historical example of how responsibility was once assessed in very different circumstances. Once that is recognised, arguments about universities “becoming parents” lose their relevance. The parental standard is neither applicable nor required.

    Control calibrates responsibility – it does not create it

    Control is often introduced at this point as a decisive factor. Universities, it is argued, do not exercise the level of control found in prisons, hospitals, or schools, and therefore should not be subject to responsibility of any comparable kind. This argument again mistakes comparison for analysis.

    Control doesn’t determine whether responsibility arises. It influences what avoiding careless conduct reasonably requires. Where control is extensive, expectations are correspondingly more intrusive. Where control is partial or situational, expectations are more limited. Where control is absent, responsibility may still arise, but its practical demands will be constrained. This is how responsibility already operates across institutional contexts, including prisons, hospitals, and schools.

    Control, in this sense, isn’t all-or-nothing. A university doesn’t control where a student chooses to walk late at night, but it does control the lighting on its own campus paths. Responsibility attaches to what falls within that sphere of influence, and the standard is calibrated accordingly.

    The same reasoning applies to higher education providers. The question is not whether they resemble other institutions, but how responsibility should be assessed having regard to what they actually do, how they are organised, and the risks their systems and decisions create.

    In professional systems, responsibility includes designing processes that can respond when risk escalates beyond routine conditions. Where systems lack clear escalation pathways, or where exceptional circumstances cannot override ordinary procedure, responsibility may fail not through indifference, but through inertia. Standards of care are tested not only by what institutions do in normal conditions, but by whether their systems enable timely and proportionate action when those conditions no longer apply.

    Seen in this light, comparisons with parents, prisons, or hospitals do not advance the debate. They obscure it. Higher education doesn’t need to borrow someone else’s standard in order to avoid responsibility, nor to justify it. What is required is a clear articulation of the standard that fits higher education as it exists now, rather than as it once did or as something else entirely.

    A professional standard in practice

    Modern universities are professional institutions operating through differentiated roles, delegated expertise, and organisational systems. Avoiding carelessness in this context doesn’t require staff to act beyond their competence. Academic staff are not clinicians, and non-academic staff are not responsible for making safeguarding judgements beyond their role.

    Clarity of role is not a threat to academic freedom but a condition of it. By defining where responsibility properly sits, academic staff are protected from being pressed into quasi-clinical or pastoral roles for which they are neither trained nor authorised, allowing them to focus on teaching and scholarship while institutional systems manage risk. Academic freedom is therefore not incompatible with responsibility – it depends on responsibility being allocated clearly and appropriately.

    What avoiding careless conduct does require is that roles are clearly defined, that concerns are recognised and escalated appropriately, and that institutional systems are designed to manage foreseeable risk without leaving responsibility to chance. Harm frequently arises not from dramatic acts, but from omissions – fragmented information, unclear responsibility, or decisions taken without regard to known risk. These are questions of institutional competence rather than individual moral failing.

    The difference between a parental approach and a professional one can be illustrated simply. Under a parental standard, a student’s unexplained absence might prompt direct personal intervention – phone calls, door-knocking, or demands for explanation. Under a tertiary professional standard, responsibility is exercised differently.

    The focus is not on intrusion, but on systems – whether attendance data, engagement with digital resources, or other indicators trigger an appropriate institutional response in line with defined roles and protocols. The question is not why the student has disengaged, but whether the institution’s systems are functioning competently to recognise and respond to foreseeable risk.

    Naming the Tertiary Professional Standard

    The standard by which responsibility in higher education should be assessed can be described as the Tertiary Professional Standard. This term identifies the particular way in which responsibility is judged in the higher education context, reflecting its professional, role-sensitive, and institutional character.

    It is neither parental, custodial, nor clinical. It aligns responsibility with competence and control, reflects the realities of adult education, and recognises that universities act through systems as well as individuals. The Tertiary Professional Standard protects students without infantilising them, and it protects staff by defining the limits of what can reasonably be expected.

    It replaces confusion with clarity. Higher education doesn’t need to revive outdated models or deny responsibility altogether. It needs to articulate, clearly and honestly, the standard by which responsibility is already exercised. That is the conversation now worth having.

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  • We want to make that heart beat more strongly

    We want to make that heart beat more strongly

    When people look at the apparently frenetic itineraries for our SUs study tours, we’re often met with confusion about why we would even attempt to visit so many cities in so few days.

    This year we managed to fit in fifteen university cities in five days across Germany, Switzerland, France, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and both halves of Belgium – avoiding low bridges and Belgian traffic, and re-routing around the worst of Storm Goretti on a chartered bus whose toilet had frozen up.

    In total we probably spent about 24 hours on the road with our driver Rene, which on first sight looks like an agenda full of dead time which could have been better spent immersing more deeply with our numerous hosts.

    Sometimes the journeys are a good opportunity for a nap, or to sneak a look at emails, or to catch up on the gossip or just to stare out of the window at pretty houses in Spreitenbach.

    But that time on the bus can also be a great time to look at and reflect on what we don’t see, the things we’re not told, the things that don’t make it onto the slide deck or into the tours and talks that we’re treated to by our largely student hosts.

    Some of us started the week in Munich, which provided the excuse to while away at least one journey looking at the Technical University of Munich (TUM)’s Agenda 2030 strategy and teaching model.

    On most programmes students choose from a bunch of “Plug-In Modules” – short courses designed to give students from one discipline a window into another – and one of the most popular ones is called “Politics for Rocket Scientists”, an introduction to political science for people who aren’t political scientists.

    It’s a three contact hours a week, 6 ECTS (12 UK CATS) “lecture” module, an hour of which is chalk and talk by research-active political scientists, while students from later semesters in politics run “exercise” sessions.

    Assessment takes the form of a ninety-minute closed-book exam – mainly a multiple choice quiz with a couple of open-ended questions – and it’s graded on the German system of 1.0, 1.3, 1.7, 2.0, 2.3, 2.7, 3.0, 3.3, 3.7, or 4.0. And you can retake that exam unlimited times until you pass.

    Every year that it runs, a joke which we reckon is funnier in German is used to open the first module:

    Welcome to Politics for Rocket Scientists. We also run Rocket Science for Politicians, but that one is less popular.

    TUM has won awards for its teaching, where the academic model reflects its guiding principle of human-centered engineering – aimed at providing students with sufficient “integrative valency and educational capacity” to benefit the natural, engineering, life and economic sciences as well as society more generally.

    The structure – which sees bachelor’s students only studying for about half of their credits in their “major” – also sees students separately acquire credit in “soft” skills, academic induction, out-duction to the labour market and electives in related subjects.

    Students who are earning while learning on the peer teaching team are trained in the latest pedagogical techniques and take part in the university’s annual teaching innovation competition, all of which is both great for their development and for improving outcomes.

    The structure ensures that some of the research active academics can continue their work without having to sustain entire degree programmes or departments framed around their own specialism. And the university’s student-staff ratio? 40.7.

    Students need some context

    There were plenty more like that. At our first official stop – Universität St. Gallen in Switzerland – every student, regardless of their main subject, has to complete 24 ECTS of “Contextual Studies” chosen from areas like Creativity, Technologies, Cultures and Responsibility. Neither the SU President nor his huge team of elected student officers and “teamies” were paid – but had the time to undertake their roles because the learning from them counts in the structure.

    At the University of Twente in the Netherlands, the final third of the bachelor’s programme is genuinely elective – minors, free choices, preparation for different master’s routes. Students also get real control over how they learn – which projects to pursue, which workshops to attend, and when to study. Much of the scaffolding is labelled “Student-Driven Learning”, and almost always involves problem-oriented group project work that students enjoy rather than resent.

    In France in 2017 the government launched Nouveaux Cursus à l’Université – New University Curricula – with funding distributed through competitive bids to fund undergraduate curriculum transformation. The core concept is “progressive specialisation”, where students specialise gradually rather than choosing narrow tracks at eighteen, with built-in gateways between different qualification routes, and flexible routes that can combine higher technical and academic tracks.

    At KU Leuven in Belgium, the final four weeks of each semester are reserved for “lab courses” where students integrate knowledge across subjects and connect it to society. At the University of Maastricht, students don’t spend hours in lectures – they meet twice a week in tutorial groups of ten to fifteen, working through cases where assessment might be participation, presentations, essays, or exams, but where the emphasis is on whether students can use what they’ve learned.

    Bits of all of this exist in the UK, of course, and there’s plenty to be proud of when we compare some of the facilities, support systems and services that we have built in the name of “student experience” back home. But while all of these systems are under financial pressure (everyone in Europe, it seems, wants a better education population but taxpayers are reluctant to fund it), what we didn’t find was a hurtle towards “do it all” 15 ECTS (30 CATS) modules to fit a forthcoming funding system and a rapid erosion of student choice.

    More often, we found ways of delivering efficiency that were about giving students educational and social responsibility.

    Maybe their Bologna-addled minds have been warped into collaborative conformity while the UK forges ahead alone by bolstering its reputation for excellence by overloading academics. But it was hard not to feel the impacts of isolation as visit after visit casually mentioned pan-European university alliances, compulsory mobility semesters, degrees that can be built from credit from multiple universities in multiple countries and systems that sustain student leaders whose English was often better than ours.

    At various points, we were asked what they might learn from us. What not to do was the theme of our answers.

    Money honey

    Sometimes on the trips, there’s things to steal. The pot of honey we were all given on arrival in Mulhouse was created by a project aimed at causing academic and vocational students from multiple universities to interact with craft and small industry experts in the region, with a beehive in the garden of the regionally-run halls. Maybe there’s a way to get something similar going back home.

    The international student spaces we saw in Wageningen and Leuven combined space for associations, facilities for cooking and seating for studying – as a set of (comparatively) skeleton set of staff to facilitate student-run study sessions, cultural nights and interaction both between international students and with those from the home countries. We’d face questions about risk assessments and students’ willingness to get involved – but there’s a pilot in there somewhere.

    The posters up in Strasbourg asking students if they thought all the hours they were having to work were “normal”, the student (and staff) arts centre in the middle of an ostensibly STEM-oriented university, the student-run city-centre study spaces projects we saw in different forms, the lighting and the furniture and the St Gallen symposium – they’re all worthy of a try, if we can find the time.

    Sometimes those long journeys between stops allow us to wallow not in possibility but its opposite – it’s the culture of the country, it’s a hundred years of history, it’s the funding system or the governance of student services away from the academic endeavour that produces the Truman show of magic in the powerpoints and presentations that must mask worse mental health problems and higher attrition than we enjoy in the UK.

    But sometimes the projects – like the one at the Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule (the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich – were the antidote to such moments of pessimism.

    Easier and more enjoyable

    In the autumn of 2021, Sarah Hofer – a researcher who had previously documented how teaching methods rather than student ability explained vast gender gaps in physics performance – returned to ETH as a professor.

    She quickly got to know the student board at VMP – the maths and physics student association – which has been making studying easier and more enjoyable for its members for 80 years.

    Somewhere between an academic society and a set of course reps, it’s a bit of associative scaffolding that runs its own little welcome week, offers group social mentoring on arrival, provides old exams and organizes assessment preparation courses, and puts on poker and chess tournaments, fondue nights, parties and barbecues. And the VMP offers its members one free coffee a day at its lounge on campus.

    It also stages its own careers fair, holds formal representation on departmental governance structures including the Departement conference (the highest departmental body), teaching committees, and grading conferences where exam standards are set.

    It has working groups on sustainability and conduct, it has a project that focuses on equal opportunities through coffee lectures with professors, organises company excursions and social gatherings for computational science students, and supports international and master’s students with practical issues like housing and supervision.

    Events include weekly talks on theoretical physics, an undergraduate colloquium with student presentations and apéro (think wine, beer, soft drinks, nibbles, and light finger food), as well as social events like ski weekends, fondue nights, and poker tournaments. Its student magazine VAMP publishes twice a semester in print and digital formats. And so on.

    Unlike in the UK, where much of what it offers would be delivered for students by professionals in separate centrally-run departments inside student services or the SU, the assumption is that peer delivery backed up by the centre and associatively scaffolded at faculty level is good for the volunteers, good for belonging, good for innovation and good for students. Broadway musicals fail – school plays sell out.

    And for Sarah Hofer, it was the perfect partner for operationalising some of her research.

    No dumb questions

    The idea was simple – create “exercise class” groups aimed at students who self-assessed as having less prior knowledge and/or imposter syndrome, where students facilitating would spend more time on fundamentals and where a “there are no dumb questions” culture was explicit rather than aspirational.

    The pilot worked. Participants who might have been expected to underperform passed at higher rates than for the cohort overall, all via an intervention that was part-belonging, part-pedagogical and part-confidence building, changing the composition of the room so that nobody has to perform competence they don’t feel.

    Workshops train TAs to think about what stops people asking questions – the group composition means there’s less stopping them. The research had said teaching methods were the barrier, not student ability. The recognition that heterogeneous prior knowledge makes some students fall silent, and that silence compounds, had found an outlet in a student society.

    When Hofer left ETH for LMU Munich less than a year later, the initiative didn’t leave with her. VSETH kept running it. The SU now provides significant implementation infrastructure – recruiting student TAs, coordinating with departments, embedding it in their broader educational development work.

    A working group – AG Fokusgruppen – sits under VSETH and works through the faculty student associations. Klara Sasse, who became the key student lead, was simultaneously active in VMP (the maths and physics faculty association, established over 80 years ago). Her dual positioning mattered – she could advocate at university level while having credibility and networks within the specific departments where focus groups needed to be implemented.

    Departments have adopted it enthusiastically – Physics merged it with their existing Exercise Class Market infrastructure – but ownership remains with the SU. Klara has since become VSETH Vice President, VMP President, and Head of Communications at VSS (the national Swiss student union), and won second place in ETH’s individual Diversity Award 2024. The focus groups themselves won third place in the organisation category the same year.

    I could KOKO

    We heard so many stories like it during the week. They were rarely about responding to regulation, or delivering on KPIs, or lobbying the university to “provide” more for students. They were more often about students having the associative infrastructure – not so small as a course rep, not so large as a university-wide SU or student services department – to do things for each other.

    Sometimes, ECTS credits were on offer. Sometimes students were paid for their work. One system saw students financially supported to pause while serving others for a semester. But almost without fail, when we interrogated why those in front of us had got involved, the money or the time or the academic recognition were always second-order hygiene. The real answer was always that they wanted to be the person that had first helped them.

    At student social association KOKO in Maastricht, student chair Japke Zoon directs the board, oversees policy implementation, and maintains contact with Maastricht University, Zuyd University of Applied Sciences, the municipality, and other key partners. Sophie van Oosterhout oversees the bar committee, the club building, and safety during activities and parties.

    Both Japke and Sophie were viscerally impressive and eminently employable – but it wasn’t really the things in their job descriptions that mattered the most. In conversation, it was the student who needed support, the first year that was thinking about dropping out, the international student who felt lonely, and the neurodiverse students who found a way to socialise with those who weren’t. Sophie was responsible for changing a barrel, but she was really responsible for other students’ success.

    Cecile Kwekeu took the mic next – Secretary and Academic Co-Comissionier of SCOPE, the official study association of the university’s School of Business and Economics. She’s 20, originally from a small city in Germany, and got involved when she went to a Maastricht Business Days event:

    As Academic Commissioner, my mission is simple: make sure our events actually help you grow. Whether it’s soft skills like communication and networking or hard skills like analytical thinking, I want to create opportunities that matter – both now and down the road. This year, I’m heading up some exciting projects including the Symposium, Consulting Case Challenge, Business Case Challenges, Career Development Days, and our Brussels Trip.

    She also talks of building better systems, streamlining processes, and making sure her team can get the most out of student life. She and over 350 students like her across the university are helped by a bit of scaffolding that allows students to pause their studies to undertake an association board year or semester – and in turn, they support thousands of students to support others through projects, groups, committees and events.

    The cold never bothered me anyway

    None of it should be a surprise. Plenty of academic theory tells us that whole chunks of our lives have become increasingly hyper-organised, professionalised, and compliance-driven, adopting formal structures, metrics, and professionally-led processes that mirror “good organisation” norms but unintentionally erode amateur-led energy.

    Money, measurement, risk management, staffing growth, and symbolic compliance often displace informal, trust-based activity. There’s evidence from wider civic life that shows that declining volunteering, loss of social infrastructure and low institutional trust is part of a broader hollowing-out of associational life, and has deep impacts on mental health, trust in governments and attitudes to others.

    Increasingly, what we do in adult life is what students do – taking part in technically excellent but tightly controlled, professionally-run, highly transactional service provision – and in doing so there’s a crowding out of participation, a reduction in social solidarity and a widening of the intention–behaviour gap for those who might otherwise help others.

    Letting go is hard. The pressure on UK students’ time is real. The regulation demands safety, the funding follows the metrics, and everyone remembers that time when that thing went wrong before the grown-ups took control. But this is less about letting go, and more about creating the conditions for student success.

    Live and kick-in

    When Frans van Vught got elected as Rector Magnificus of the University of Twente back in 1997, he inherited a technical university with declining student numbers, fragmented departments, a huge hole in the budget and a culture that had attempted to fix things by doing more centrally:

    Campus life was bureaucratically controlled by a campus director. Not much was allowed, there were closing times, and students had to apply for permits for all kinds of things. I found that very unappealing. I felt that as a campus, or rather as a university community, we should be able to do better than that. Let the students organise things themselves.

    Many encouraged Van Vught to retain the systems and structures that had been built up, only to operate them more efficiently. Instead, he set about shifting the culture both academically and socially – designing structures and scaffolds that would sustain a collaborative community with benefits both for individuals too.

    And after his own study visit with some of his student associations to Queens in Belfast, he returned and set up the SU, giving it (against available advice) a raft of responsibilities previously assumed to be the university’s – all on the condition (agreed in a covenant) that they found student groups to run them.

    “Universities have to take care not to become a bundle of non-communicating hyperspecialisms”, he said on the day he retired – bearing the scars on his back from a radical restructure:

    [Students] are a very important part of the academic community and I think it’s important that they take their own responsibility… we have increased cohesion in student activism and increased the community feeling for the university as a whole.

    Today, the SU hosts a student-led outreach and talent development programme for secondary school pupils, a £0.5m student run “kick in” welcome programme designed to build belonging, study space facilities across the city and hundreds of other student committees that operate everything from student support to PC repairs to the world’s biggest case competition.

    The wider academic infrastructure helps. Every department gives space to an an academic student association on the basis that students need a “home” to work together in. On their courses, students work in multiple teams over extended periods, encouraging early peer bonding, a sense of belonging, and shared responsibility, reducing anonymity and social isolation.

    There’s an emphasis on collaboration, role negotiation, and joint problem-solving that develops interpersonal skills like communication, empathy, and conflict management, while the coaching role of staff an integrated authentic assessment structure strengthens confidence, creativity, self-efficacy, and emotional resilience by providing an environment where students learn from mistakes and high-stakes pressure is reduced.

    On the tours, we often pick up the differences in dual systems between elite universities and their old ideals of education for education’s sake, and newer players in the applied sciences who focus on labour-market prep. On paper, Twente ought to have been the most individualistic, transactional, skills-for-the-CV provider on the trip. But it wasn’t.

    The Netherlands has a much higher percentage of students working while studying than the UK. Belgian and French students are just as likely to be struggling with the costs of living. Students in Luxembourg find it difficult to afford their placements, and Bavarian students are attempting to rent the most expensive student bedrooms in Germany. Even Swiss students struggle to maintain the sort of student experience that their parents said was possible.

    But while HE and student funding was never far from the top of the lists of problems on the slides, it was also repeatedly obvious that the spaces and structures deliberately designed to create collaboration, engender responsibility and operate autonomously were helping to ensure that students were both transformed by their education, and were helping to transform both their university and their municipality as a result.

    Society concerns social relationships and civic participation. Social networks provide support and contribute to quality of life. It is also important that everyone can participate in society, and trust other people, the government and other institutions.

    Statistics Netherlands (CBS) reports that in 2024, 49.5 per cent of the population aged 15+ did voluntary work for an organisation or association at least once in the previous year – and it’s much higher for graduates. In the end, both in the university and the country, isn’t HE partly about the community you’re trying to create?

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