Category: Students

  • 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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  • Is higher education ready for generation alpha?

    Is higher education ready for generation alpha?

    Higher education has always been a multigenerational co-op. A space where different worldviews, values and learning habits collide and evolve together. Right now, universities are still learning how to teach and support Gen Z, students who have redefined expectations around flexibility, purpose and wellbeing.

    But just as the sector starts to feel comfortable with these adjustments, the next generation is already forming behind them. “Gen Alpha” – those born from 2010 onwards – will start arriving within the next five years and their presence will make the intergenerational mix even more fascinating, and far more challenging to work with.

    Universities are used to responding to disruption when it is forced upon them, whether through policy reform, funding shifts or sudden global shocks. But this time, the change is visible on the horizon. Higher education can see one of its next major disruptions coming years in advance. The question is not whether Gen Alpha will alter how we teach, learn or engage. They will. The question is whether the sector can prepare in time, drawing lessons from what’s already happening with today’s learners.

    By 2030, higher education will become an even more complex multi-generational co-op. Gen Alpha students will be learning alongside the tail of Gen Z and quite a few millennials and Generation X. They will be taught by academics largely from the Millennials and Generation X age groups. Each group will bring different digital literacies, communication norms and values into the same ecosystem.

    The challenge, and opportunity, will be in creating environments flexible enough to bridge these perspectives while sustaining academic rigour. Understanding Gen Alpha, then, is not about predicting a single generation’s quirks. It’s about preparing universities for a shared future where several generations will need to coexist, collaborate and learn from each other.

    No off switch

    Much of what will define Gen Alpha is already visible in classrooms now. Current higher education students are demanding immediacy, connection and relevance; expectations born in a digital ecosystem that never switches off. Yet Gen Alpha will take these habits to another level. They are growing up with technology not as a tool but as the background hum of existence; seamless, intuitive and always present. They have learned to read, count and solve problems through interactive and gamified environments long before they stepped into a school.

    There is a high chance that because of or – depending on your vantage point – thanks to these habits Gen Alpha will be the most self-directed learners higher education has ever seen – but also the least patient with systems that feel slow, static or disconnected from their lived reality. Long feedback cycles, rigid timetables or outdated online platforms won’t just frustrate them; they will feel illogical. The idea of sitting through a two-hour lecture (even online) may seem not just boring but absurd.

    The early evidence is already visible in schools. Teachers across the UK talk about declining engagement and rising frustration when lessons are delivered in traditional ways. In the US, teachers describe pupils who question why they are being taught a certain way and struggle to engage with methods that feel prescriptive or irrelevant. In Australia, schools experimenting with more adaptive and project-based models such as NSWEduChat report that students are more motivated when given freedom, agency and connection to real-world issues. This is the mindset that will soon walk through our university doors.

    Cultural readiness

    Gen Alpha’s world is also more emotionally complex than that of previous generations. They are growing up surrounded by climate anxiety, social awareness and global instability. Unlike many other generations, their exposure to world events is constant and their access to information is, many times, dangerously unfiltered. They form strong opinions early and are not afraid to express them. They value authenticity and expect institutions they interact with to demonstrate values that align with their own. I am rather certain that if higher education speaks in jargon, hides behind hierarchy, or treats them as passive recipients, Gen Alpha will tune out.

    This is a generation that has been encouraged to ask questions, to expect answers quickly and to always be heard. They are unlikely to respond well to ecosystems that require silent compliance or delayed gratification considering they are growing up with feedback loops built into everything they do, from online games to learning apps. They are more likely to engage with learning that is immediate, collaborative and visually rich instead of linear or text heavy.

    Culturally, Gen Alpha is also more diverse, more inclusive and more globally connected than any generation before them. Many grow up in multilingual homes and navigate multiple cultural identities. Their sense of belonging is not bound by geography but by shared values and interests – imagine the extraordinary opportunities this will bring for HE. But universities need to create environments that feel inclusive, authentic and flexible enough to truly accommodate that diversity.

    The challenge then is not simply technological development but cultural readiness. Universities must ask whether the way they structure courses, deliver teaching and define success reflects the world these students live in. Long assessment cycles and stale teaching methods will become relics of an age that made sense when information was scarce and time moved slower.

    Foresight

    The first wave of Gen Alpha will enter UK universities in 2029 or thereabouts. That is closer to us today than the first pandemic lockdowns are behind us (and 23 March 2020 still feels like yesterday). The window to act is narrow and the sector is already under strain.

    The solution is not to rip everything up or abandon academic rigour, but to start prototyping now: testing interactive teaching models, embedding AI into learning processes, creating more authentic and timely assessments, and developing staff confidence to deliver education that resonates with digital native learners. Universities that take these steps will be positioned not just to survive the arrival of Gen Alpha but to thrive with them.

    The disruption ahead is unusual in one crucial way – we can see it coming. There will be no excuse for surprise. The next generation of students is telling us (those who listen), every day, what they expect learning to feel like. The question is whether higher education will have the courage, creativity, foresight and capacity to listen – before Gen Alpha decides it no longer needs us.

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  • A new approach to driving STEM workforce readiness

    A new approach to driving STEM workforce readiness

    Key points:

    STEM workforce shortages are a well-known global issue. With demand set to rise by nearly 11 percent in the next decade, today’s students are the solution. They will be the ones to make the next big discoveries, solve the next great challenges, and make the world a better place.

    Unfortunately, many students don’t see themselves as part of that picture.

    When students struggle in math and science, many come to believe they simply aren’t “STEM people.” While it’s common to hear this phrase in the classroom, a perceived inability in STEM can become a gatekeeper that stops students from pursuing STEM careers and alters the entire trajectory of their lives. Because of this, educators must confront negative STEM identities head on.

    One promising approach is to teach decision-making and critical thinking directly within STEM classrooms, equipping students with the durable skills essential for future careers and the mindset that they can decide on a STEM career for themselves.

    Teaching decision-making

    Many educators assume this strategy requires a full curriculum overhaul. Rather, decision-making can be taught by weaving decision science theories and concepts into existing lesson plans. This teaching and learning of skillful judgment formation and decision-making is called Decision Education. 

    There are four main learning domains of Decision Education as outlined in the Decision Education K-12 Learning Standards: thinking probabilistically, valuing and applying rationality, recognizing and resisting cognitive biases, and structuring decisions. Taken together, these skills, among other things, help students gather and assess information, consider different perspectives, evaluate risks and apply knowledge in real-world scenarios. 

    The intersection of Decision Education and STEM

    Decision Education touches on many of the core skills that STEM requires, such as applying a scientific mindset, collaboration, problem-solving, and critical thinking. This approach opens new pathways for students to engage with STEM in ways that align with their interests, strengths, and learning styles.

    Decision Education hones the durable skills students need to succeed both in and out of the STEM classroom. For example, “weight-and-rate” tables can help high school students evaluate college decisions by comparing elements like tuition, academic programs, and distance from home. While the content in this exercise is personalized and practical for each student, it’s grounded in analytical thinking, helping them learn to follow a structured decision process, think probabilistically, recognize cognitive biases, and apply rational reasoning.

    These same decision-making skills mirror the core practices of STEM. Math, science, and engineering require students to weigh variables, assess risk, and model potential outcomes. While those concepts may feel abstract within the context of STEM, applying them to real-life choices helps students see these skills as powerful tools for navigating uncertainty in their daily lives.

    Decision Education also strengthens cognitive flexibility, helping students recognize biases, question assumptions, and consider different perspectives. Building these habits is crucial for scientific thinking, where testing hypotheses, evaluating evidence objectively, and revising conclusions based on new data are all part of the process. The scientific method itself applies several core Decision Education concepts.

    As students build critical thinking and collaboration skills, they also deepen their self-awareness, which can be transformative for those who do not see themselves as “STEM people.” For example, a student drawn to literacy might find it helpful to reimagine math and science as languages built on patterns, symbols, and structured communication. By connecting STEM to existing strengths, educators can help reshape perceptions and unlock potential.

    Adopting new strategies

    As educators seek to develop or enhance STEM education and cultures in their schools, districts and administrators must consider teacher training and support.

    High-quality professional development programs are an effective way to help teachers hone the durable skills they aim to cultivate in their students. Effective training also creates space for educators to reflect on how unconscious biases might shape their perceptions of who belongs in advanced STEM coursework. Addressing these patterns allows teachers to see students more clearly, strengthen empathy, and create deeper connections in the classroom.

    When educators come together to make STEM more engaging and accessible, they do more than teach content: they rewrite the narrative about who can succeed in STEM. By integrating Decision Education as a skill-building bridge between STEM and students’ everyday lives, educators can foster confidence, curiosity, and a sense of belonging, which helps learners build their own STEM identity, keeping them invested and motivated to learn. While not every student will ultimately pursue a career in STEM, they can leave the classroom with stronger critical thinking, problem-solving, and decision-making skills that will serve them for life.

    Creating that kind of learning environment takes intention, shared commitment, and a belief that every student deserves meaningful access to and engagement with STEM. But when the opportunity arises, the right decision is clear–and every school has the power to make it.

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  • What school leaders need to know

    What school leaders need to know

    Key points:

    Special education is at a breaking point. Across the country, more children than ever are being referred for evaluations to determine whether they qualify for special education services. But there aren’t enough school psychologists or specialists on staff to help schools meet the demand, leaving some families with lengthy wait times for answers and children missing critical support. 

    The growing gap between need and capacity has inspired districts to get creative. One of the most debated solutions? Remote psychoeducational testing, or conducting evaluations virtually rather than face-to-face. 

    Can a remote evaluation accurately capture what a child needs? Will the results hold up if challenged in a legal dispute? Is remote assessment equivalent to in-person? 

    As a school psychologist and educational consultant, I hear these questions every week. And now, thanks to research and data released this summer, I can answer with confidence: Remote psychoeducational testing can produce equivalent results to traditional in-person assessment. 

    What the research shows

    In July 2025, a large-scale national study compared in-person and remote administration of the Woodcock-Johnson V Tests of Cognitive Abilities and Achievement (WJ V), the latest version of one of the most widely-used and comprehensive assessment systems for evaluating students’ intellectual abilities, academic achievement, and oral language skills. Using a matched case-control design with 300 participants and 44 licensed school psychologists from across the U.S., the study found no statistically or practically significant difference in student scores between in-person and remote formats. 

    In other words: When conducted with fidelity, remote WJ V testing produces equivalent results to traditional in-person assessment.

    This study builds on nearly a decade of prior research that also found score equivalency for remote administrations of the most widely used evaluations including WJ IV COG and ACH, RIAS-2, and WISC-V assessments, respectively. 

    The findings of the newest study are as important as they are urgent. They show remote testing isn’t just a novelty–it’s a practical, scalable solution that is rooted in evidence. 

    Why it matters now

    School psychology has been facing a workforce shortage for over a decade. A 2014 national study predicted this crunch, and today districts are relying on contracting agencies and remote service providers to stay afloat. At the same time, referrals for evaluations are climbing, driven by pandemic-related learning loss, growing behavioral challenges, and increased awareness of neurodiversity. 

    The result: More children and families waiting longer for answers, while school psychologists are facing mounting caseloads and experiencing burnout. 

    Remote testing offers a way out of this cycle and embraces changes. It allows districts to bring in licensed psychologists from outside their area, without relocating staff or asking families to travel. It helps schools move through backlogs more efficiently, ensuring students get the services they need sooner. And it gives on-site staff space to do the broader preventative work that too often gets sidelined. Additionally, it offers a way to support those students who are choosing alternate educational settings, such as virtual schools. 

    Addressing the concerns

    Skepticism remains, and that’s healthy. Leaders wonder: Will a hearing officer accept remote scores in a due process case? Are students disadvantaged by the digital format? Can we trust the results to guide placement and services?

    These are valid questions, but research shows that when remote testing is done right, the results are valid and reliable. 

    Key phrase: Done right. Remote assessment isn’t just a Zoom call with a stopwatch. In the most recent study, the setup included specific safeguards:

    • Touchscreen laptops with screens 13” or larger; 
    • A secure platform with embedded digital materials;
    • Dual cameras to capture the student’s face and workspace;
    • A guided proctor in-room with the student; and
    • Standardized examiner and proctor training protocols.

    This carefully structured environment replicates traditional testing conditions as closely as possible. All four of the existing equivalency studies utilized the Presence Platform, as it already meets with established criteria.

    When those fidelity conditions are met, the results hold up. Findings showed p-values above .05 and effect sizes below .03 across all tested subtests, indicating statistical equivalence. This means schools can confidently use WJ V scores from remote testing, provided the setup adheres to best practices.

    What district leaders can do

    For remote testing to succeed, schools need to take a thoughtful, structured approach. Here are three steps districts can take now.

    1. Vet providers carefully. Ask about their platform, equipment, training, and how they align with published research standards. 
    2. Clarify device requirements. Ensure schools have the right technology in place before testing begins.
    3. Build clear policies. Set district-wide expectations for how remote testing should be conducted so everyone–staff and contractors alike–are on the same page. 

    A path forward

    Remote assessment won’t solve every challenge in special education, but it can close one critical gap: timely, accurate evaluations. For students in rural districts, schools with unfilled psychologist positions, virtual school settings, or families tired of waiting for answers, it can be a lifeline.

    The research is clear. Remote psychoeducational testing works when we treat it with the same care and rigor as in-person assessment. The opportunity now is to use this tool strategically–not as a last resort, but as part of a smarter, more sustainable approach to serving students. 

    At its best, remote testing is not a compromise; it’s a path toward expanded access and stronger support for the students who need it most.

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  • See you tomorrow and every other day until there is justice

    See you tomorrow and every other day until there is justice

    This past weekend, braving freezing weather, Serbian students set up nearly 500 stands in dozens of cities, towns and villages across the country. They’ve not been selling Christmas trinkets – they’ve been collecting signatures.

    The action, titled “Raspiši pobedu” (Declare Victory) was less a petition, more a test of support. After more than a year of campus blockades, protests drawing hundreds of thousands, and awareness-raising marches across the country, they wanted to know – does Serbia actually want the elections we’ve been demanding?

    Jana, a first-year philosophy student staffing one of the Belgrade stands, told AFP:

    We are counting to get a rough idea of how many people support us.

    The answer, by all accounts, was emphatic. In Niš alone (Serbia’s third largest city), more than 17,000 signatures were collected. In Kraljevo (a city in south-central Serbia), 16 stands had to print additional materials due to demand. Across the country, the queues kept coming.

    Political science professor Nebojša Vladisavljević sees the students entering a new phase of mobilisation:

    The goal is to turn the support gained through protests into votes and an electoral victory.

    As has often been the case, the protest action has been well timed. On our Christmas Day (Serbia itself follows the Julian calendar), a court had ruled there were no grounds to further prosecute the former construction minister suspected of a “serious crime against public safety” in connection with the Novi Sad canopy collapse that killed 16 people and triggered the entire movement.

    Since then, three investigations have been launched. Only one has resulted in an indictment confirmed by a court – and now another avenue of accountability has closed.

    A week earlier, thousands had gathered in Novi Pazar – Serbia’s youngest town demographically, with a majority Bosniak Muslim population – for the first protest of its kind there. The immediate cause was brutal – Momčilo Zelenbaba, who travelled 190 kilometres from Jagodina to attend, explained:

    I came because 200 students lost their status and 30 professors lost their jobs.

    Dženana Ahmetović, a student protester, framed the stakes:

    We are here today to send a message to Serbia that we fight for an interim management and the survival of our university. This concerns all of us, not only Novi Pazar.

    The Novi Pazar students had become famous across Serbia after walking for 16 days – one day for each victim – to join the anniversary commemoration in Novi Sad on 1 November. Now they were paying the price for that solidarity – and students from across the country were coming to stand with them in return.

    Nearly two-thirds of citizens, regardless of political affiliation, see snap elections as a way out of the crisis. For now, President Vučić has said elections won’t be held before late 2026. The students have other plans.

    No easy framing

    Back in January 2025, I wrote about the student protests as they called their first general strike – and at the time, I hedged, suggesting you could “pretty much flip a coin” on whether the movement would bring down the government or fizzle out over concerns about the academic year.

    It turns out I was too cautious. The students didn’t just survive – they’ve forced the question of snap elections onto the agenda and positioned themselves as a serious electoral force.

    But the path from those January blockades to this past weekend’s signature campaign has been anything but straightforward, and the story is harder to tell than the familiar framing would suggest.

    Western media, when it has covered the protests at all, has often reached for a familiar narrative – plucky pro-European youth versus authoritarian regime backed by Russia.

    Vučić himself encouraged this framing, repeatedly claiming the protests were a Western-orchestrated “color revolution” and that:

    …President Putin had clearly explained everything he needed to know about it in just three sentences.

    But the students who occupied faculties across Serbia weren’t waving EU flags. In fact, when a group tried to raise the EU flag during a vigil in Belgrade, they were surrounded, shouted at, and forced to leave – while Orthodox crosses, references to Kosovo, and students wearing traditional šajkača caps became common features of the protest aesthetic, while the organisers said nothing.

    Academics have called this “depoliticization as strategy” – the deliberate bracketing of partisan and ideological markers to claim moral legitimacy in an environment where all political institutions are compromised.

    This is a movement that has rejected the regime but also rejected the opposition, that demanded elections but refused to endorse any candidate, that cycled to Strasbourg to petition the European Parliament, but wouldn’t let anyone carry a European flag at home.

    When opposition leaders attempted to join protests, they were met with suspicion and outright rejection – student “plenums” have explicitly asked political parties to stay away, banned party insignia, and have refused to let politicians speak.

    One student in the documentary Wake up, Serbia! puts the generational logic directly:

    Our parents fought during the ’90s and 2000. They accomplished something. They brought in democracy. Now we have problems with democracy. Now it’s our turn to fight to make it less corrupt.

    Another is emphatic about rejecting old divisions:

    We don’t care if the guy representing us is gonna be a Catholic, a Muslim, Christian, Indian guy, whatever. We want to change this system and we don’t want to focus on bringing back Kosovo or seeing who is Croatian in our friend group and who is from Bosnia. We don’t care about that. We care about the current situation in Serbia.

    The academic analysis puts it formally:

    …what appeared as an ‘anti-political’ stance was more accurately an anti-partisan strategy, shaped by the authoritarian context that rendered conventional political participation ineffective.

    The students claimed to be about “justice, not politics.” And yet they articulated explicitly political demands – accountability, resignations, investigations, and eventually snap elections.

    The tensions were real. While the plenums formally disavowed ideological branding, progressive-leaning groups and pro-EU civil society actors were marginalised, sometimes physically removed – even as nationalist symbols were tolerated. The documentary captures one revealing exchange about violence:

    We don’t want to be responsible for violence as an organization of students.

    But you want violence?

    Yes, I literally answered that. I don’t want to be labeled as an aggressive student. I would love to be labeled as an aggressive citizen.

    And the challenges of direct democracy are frankly acknowledged:

    The process of making decisions is very, very slow. Show up to the plenary session, and then we debate for 4 and a half hours and come to no conclusion. Okay, let’s have another plenary session. 4 hours, no conclusion.

    What the regime threw at them

    Throughout 2025, the government’s response has drawn on every tool in the authoritarian playbook – and a few that seemed improvised on the spot.

    Violence

    On 15 March, somewhere between 275,000 and 325,000 people gathered in Belgrade for the “15th for 15” protest – the largest mass demonstration in modern Serbian history. At 19:11, the crowd fell into commemorative silence. What happened next remains contested, but accounts from those present are astonishing. Ivana Ilic Sunderic, a veteran of Serbian activism:

    I have been going to protests for 30 years but I’ve never heard anything like this. A sound rolling toward us, a whiz… very frightening, like a sound from hell.

    Evidence surfaced of a US-made Long Range Acoustic Device mounted on a Gendarmerie vehicle. Interior minister Ivica Dacic dismissed the devices as “loudspeakers available on eBay.” Vučić issued a high-stakes ultimatum:

    If there was a single piece of evidence that a sound cannon was used against demonstrators, then I would no longer be president.

    In June, the human rights organisation Earshot published forensic analysis concluding it was highly likely that protesters were subjected to a targeted attack using a directional acoustic weapon. Vučić remains president.

    By June, on Vidovdan – the national holiday commemorating the 1389 Battle of Kosovo, freighted with nationalist symbolism – riot police charged a largely peaceful protest of 140,000 people, using pepper spray, shields and batons. Student Luka Mihajlović became a symbol of the crackdown – beaten and arrested while standing calmly with hands raised.

    Institutional warfare

    The government adopted amendments to the Higher Education Law in March, promising a 20 per cent budget increase and 50 per cent tuition fee reduction – but in parallel came Regulation 5/35, altering the ratio of teaching to research hours from 20:20 to 35:5.

    Because research was no longer compensated, and blockades prevented teaching, professors supporting the protests would receive only 12.5 per cent of their usual salary – roughly €70 a month:

    This is obviously a try to break us down, but we are trying to endure and to support our students in spite of the punishments.

    By May, a government Working Group was drafting yet another Higher Education Law – this one allowing foreign universities to operate without local accreditation while receiving state subsidies, and introducing a voucher system forcing state faculties to compete with private ones.

    Jelena Teodorović (an Associate Professor at the Faculty of education, University of Kragujevac) warned of:

    …a fierce fight for financing that would force faculties to make studying faster and easier, ultimately resulting in worthless knowledge and worthless diplomas.

    Vučić, in Niš, made his preferences clear:

    Private faculties have shown to be significantly more stable and serious.

    A BIRN (Balkan Investigative Reporting Network) investigation published in December documented systematic retaliation – hundreds fired or demoted, over 100 teachers and 25 school directors dismissed for supporting the protests, and criminal charges launched against University of Belgrade rector Vladan Đokić.

    Last week, thousands gathered in Novi Pazar after the university administration revoked student status for 200 students absent due to protests and dismissed 30 professors. One public sector worker describes the coercion around pro-government rallies:

    We have a rally tomorrow, are you going? I’m not going. But, your contract is expiring.

    Counter-mobilisation

    Throughout 2025, the government has maintained a surreal counter-protest camp known as “Ćaciland” – part propaganda tool, part dark comedy. One student on the inhabitants argues they’re not students:

    They are adults. There are people 50 plus years old. It’s so transparent that they are protected by the government and actually sent there by the government.

    Another describes attempts to interview residents:

    People were interviewing people in the camp and they were like, “Oh, no, no, no, no.” Hiding their faces, being embarrassed. And the ones who spoke were like, “Oh yeah, I’m not going to the faculty for the past 2 years. I just came here.” Like, €200 a day – that sounds like a good deal.

    Some say the camp’s composition was, in fact, more sinister than laughable:

    Members of the brigade that was dismembered after Milošević left in 2000 – the brigade that actually killed Prime Minister Zoran Đinđić – the veterans of that brigade are right now supporting the students 2.0.

    Co-option

    The regime has repeatedly tried to reframe itself as being on the same side as the students – just against “lower-level corruption.”

    Vučić launched what he branded a new “anti-corruption offensive,” conveniently timed to coincide with the peak of protests. Pro-government commentators began echoing student demands for transparency, presenting Vučić as a fellow enemy of the oligarchs. Several mid-level officials were dismissed, and state media framed these changes as evidence that the president was listening.

    During a visit to Sremska Mitrovica, Vučić declared:

    I trust these young people. I trust them more than those who put them up to this. People will no longer tolerate it – that is why they want us to change. They do not want those who destroyed the country to come to power. They want none of them. But they do want us – different, better, changed.

    The European dimension

    On 3 April, eighty students set off on bicycles from Novi Sad, beginning a 13-day journey to Strasbourg. Their stated mission:

    For the world to hear the voice of Serbia. For European institutions to put pressure on the authorities.

    It was a pragmatic calculation, not an ideological embrace – the students needed external pressure that the regime couldn’t suppress domestically.

    Their letter to French President Emmanuel Macron combined political clarity with poetic determination:

    We are not here to complain, but to remind you that hope still moves – and sometimes, it moves on two wheels. We refused to give up; every turn of the pedals was a protest against fear.

    The European Parliament responded in May with a resolution acknowledging the “legitimacy of student protest demands” and calling for an investigation into the sonic weapon allegations – 419 votes in favour. European Commissioner for Enlargement Marta Kos:

    Corruption and irresponsibility are the two main triggers of the protests. They also represent the motive for dissatisfaction due to a lack of democracy, the enslavement of the media, and the impunity of politicians.

    By October, the Parliament had adopted what was described as the “harshest ever” resolution towards the Serbian regime – 457 votes in favour, featuring express support for student demands, denunciation of state repression, explicit condemnation of sonic weapons and Pegasus spyware, and a call for an EU fact-finding mission. MEP Irena Joveva said that the time of impunity for autocrats in Belgrade was coming to an end:

    We see this grotesque irony that those who order beatings call the beaten people Nazis, inventing fake ćaci students, while real students are bleeding for democracy.

    The regime’s media apparatus weaponised every European intervention, accusing the students of “selling out to Brussels” and labelling them “traitors.” Students who had carefully distanced themselves from ideological affiliation found themselves simultaneously supported by EU progressives and demonised by nationalist-authoritarian actors – their rhetorical insistence on neutrality was becoming increasingly untenable.

    The electoral gambit

    In April, moving from demands for accountability to wider demands, student plenums issued a declaration that changed the terms entirely:

    Government corruption is so deeply rooted that no functional reform is possible within the current institutional framework. Only new elections – conducted under fair and monitored conditions – can open the path to justice.

    The students had gone from demanding investigations to demanding regime change.

    November 1st marked a year since the canopy collapse. At exactly 11:52 AM, tens of thousands stood in 16 minutes of silence – one minute for each victim. Independent observers placed the Novi Sad crowd at approximately 100,000. Dijana Hrka, mother of 27-year-old victim Stefan, addressed the crowds:

    I need to know who killed my child so I can have a little peace. I am looking for justice. I want no other mother to go through what I am going through.

    A giant banner unfurled on Petrovaradin Fortress:

    See you tomorrow and every other day until there is justice.

    Vučić issued a rare televised apology:

    I apologize – both to students and to protesters, as well as to others with whom I disagreed.

    The students were unmoved. State-owned Serbian Railways suspended train traffic to Novi Sad on the day of the protest, citing an alleged bomb threat.

    Student plenums have now announced support for a civic electoral list while emphasising that students themselves won’t appear as candidates – they demand independent monitoring, transparent campaign financing, and genuine media pluralism, but they still refuse to endorse any party. Sociologist Zoran Gavrilović:

    We are witnessing the formation of a serious electoral player, because the students have become Vučić’s most serious competitor.

    The open question

    The academic analysis identifies both the strength and the risk:

    …without institutional continuity, moral mobilization risks dissipation. Without mechanisms to translate civic power into structural change, legitimacy may erode once the moment passes.

    One student puts it plainly:

    This has outgrown the student-led protests. We can do everything still – all of the organisation, the logistics – but we can’t do it all on our own. We need help for this next step.

    Another on the long game:

    We have to wake up as many people as we can until the next elections so that we can actually win. And if the election gets stolen again like they did in 2000, then we can violently protest.

    And another, more hopefully:

    You’re not aware of how many people have been woken up from a very long sleep here in Serbia. We are the students that managed to wake up the whole nation. Now it’s up to the citizens of Serbia to decide what will happen next.

    For those of us who follow student movements, there are lessons here – though perhaps not the ones we expected. The power of decentralisation is real – the movement was almost impossible to decapitate through targeted arrests or co-option precisely because it had no leaders. The importance of tactical evolution is also clear – from blockades to silent vigils to 24-hour road closures to bicycle journeys to signature campaigns, each phase wrong-footed the authorities.

    But the limits of “depoliticisation” have also been visible. Refusing to build political infrastructure, rejecting alliances with compromised but potentially useful actors, tolerating some ideological currents while excluding others – the movement may have constrained its own transformative potential.

    This weekend’s signature campaign suggests they know this. The paradox now is whether a movement built on rejecting politics can win at it.

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  • DEI in education: Pros and cons

    DEI in education: Pros and cons

    eSchool News is counting down the 10 most-read stories of 2025. Story #6 focuses on DEI in education.

    Key points:

    Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives have become integral to educational institutions across the United States. DEI aims to foster environments where all students can thrive regardless of their backgrounds. The programs are designed to address systemic inequalities, promote representation, and create inclusive spaces for learning. However, as DEI becomes more prevalent, it also faces scrutiny and debate regarding its effectiveness, implementation, and impact on educational outcomes.

    One of the main advantages of DEI in education is the promotion of a more inclusive and representative curriculum. Students gain a broader understanding of the world by integrating diverse perspectives into course materials. This enhances critical thinking and empathy. Furthermore, the approach prepares students to navigate and contribute to our increasingly globalized society. Moreover, exposure to diverse viewpoints encourages students to challenge their assumptions and develop a more nuanced perspective on complex issues.

    DEI initiatives also contribute to improved academic outcomes by fostering a sense of belongingness amongst students. When students see themselves reflected in their educators and curricula, they are more likely to feel valued and supported. This leads to increased engagement and motivation. This sense of inclusion can result in higher retention and graduation rates (particularly among historically marginalized groups). Furthermore, diverse learning environments encourage collaboration and communication skills because students learn to work effectively with peers from different backgrounds.

    In addition to benefiting students, DEI programs can enhance faculty satisfaction and retention. Institutions that prioritize diversity in hiring and promotion practices create more equitable workplaces. This can lead to increased job satisfaction among faculty members. Mentorship programs and professional development opportunities focused on DEI can also support faculty in creating inclusive classroom environments, which further benefits students.

    Despite these benefits, DEI initiatives are not without challenges. One significant concern is the potential for resistance and backlash from individuals who perceive DEI efforts as a threat to traditional values (in other words, a form of reverse discrimination). This resistance can manifest in various ways (opposition to DEI policies, legal challenges, and political pressure). Such opposition can hinder the implementation and effectiveness of DEI programs, thereby creating a contentious atmosphere within educational institutions.

    Another challenge is the difficulty in measuring the success of DEI initiatives. Without clear metrics, it can be challenging to assess the impact of these programs on student outcomes, faculty satisfaction, or institutional culture. The lack of quantifiable data can lead to skepticism about the efficiency of DEI efforts, thus resulting in reduced support or funding for such programs. Additionally, the absence of standardized definitions and goals for DEI can lead to inconsistent implementation across institutions.

    Resource allocation is also a critical issue in the execution of DEI initiatives. Implementing comprehensive DEI programs often requires significant financial investment (funding for specialized staff, training, and support services). In times of budget constraints, institutions may struggle to prioritize DEI efforts. This may lead to inadequate support for students and faculty. Without sufficient resources, DEI programs may fail to achieve their intended outcomes thus further fueling criticism and skepticism.

    The potential for tokenism is another concern associated with DEI initiatives. When institutions focus on meeting diversity quotas without fostering genuine inclusion, individuals from underrepresented groups may feel marginalized or exploited. Tokenism may undermine the goals of DEI by creating superficial diversity that does not translate into meaningful change or equity. To avoid this, institutions must commit to creating inclusive environments where all individuals feel valued and empowered to contribute fully.

    Furthermore, DEI programs can sometimes inadvertently reinforce stereotypes or create division among student populations. For example, emphasizing differences without promoting commonalities may lead to increased social fragmentation or feelings of isolation among certain groups. Educators must carefully balance the celebration of diversity with the promotion of unity and shared values to foster cohesive learning communities.

    In summary, DEI initiatives in education offer numerous benefits, but these programs also face significant challenges. To maximize the positive impact of DEI efforts, educational institutions must commit to thoughtful, well-resourced, and inclusive implementation strategies that promote genuine equity and inclusion for all members.

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  • It’s the higher education Christmas movie and TV guide 2025

    It’s the higher education Christmas movie and TV guide 2025

    There’s nothing on the telly this Christmas.

    There never is. But if, like me, you have trouble switching off from work but also enjoy being slumped in front of the box with a tub of Heroes (Quality Street are now banned in our house), I have good news.

    I’ve picked out films and TV shows released this year that either have something to say about higher education, are set on campus and/or depict contemporary student life.

    You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll shell out for a VPN, you’ll wonder why Disney thinks Nani should abandon her sister for college, and you’ll almost certainly switch off, which is what the break is for – eventually.

    Other than the fantastic but final season of Big Boys, it really was slim pickings again this year from a UK perspective – which reminds us that whatever else the BBC, ITV and C4 are doing, it’s not higher education.

    Before you take to the comments, I’ve not put in books or podcasts. I do enough reading in this job, and I edit ours, so my appetite for either is fairly thin – but do pop suggestions below if there are any.

    You’re welcome – and apologies in advance if you’re at work over the next couple of weeks.

    Julia Roberts heads to Yale (sort of – it’s actually filmed in Cambridge but set in New Haven) as a philosophy professor whose star student accuses her colleague of sexual misconduct. If you enjoyed the discomfort of Cate Blanchett in “Tár” but wished it had more Ivy League networking and dialogue about whether university should be a “safe space” or not, this is your Boxing Day sorted. Roberts delivers a line about education being meant to make you uncomfortable, not a “lukewarm bath”. Arif Ahmed will be thrilled.

    Guillermo del Toro got his passion project made, and it’s a meditation on academic hubris. Oscar Isaac plays Victor as the ultimate postdoc gone wrong – brilliant, egotistical, and convinced his research will change the world. The university scenes feature actual professors listed in the credits, though they don’t seem to have undertaken that optional supervisor training. Jacob Elordi brings surprising depth to the Creature, who arguably just needed better student support services.

    This documentary about the 1988 Gallaudet University protests is the year’s essential viewing for anyone who thinks student activism doesn’t achieve anything. Directed by Nyle DiMarco and Davis Guggenheim, it shows how four students shut down their campus and changed history, forcing the appointment of the university’s first deaf president. The board chair who supposedly said “Deaf people are not ready to function in a hearing world” will have you chanting “Deaf Power!” from your sofa.

    If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if someone tried to remake The Sopranos but set it in a Turkish university’s literature department, Bir Zamanlar İstanbul will be right up your street. Ali and Seher – a final-year Turkish Literature student and journalism student respectively – meet during a campus debate on whether crime is driven by society or personal choice, and the series quickly turns into a mafia thriller. It’s another one of those shows that casts 35-year-olds as undergraduates, but at least the debate scene offers a rare glimpse of Turkish academic culture before everyone starts shooting at each other. And just under the surface there’s some fascinating “western culture” v traditional Islamic values themes to get into too.

    Where did all the campus high-jinks go? It’s sign of the time that so many titles on this list are bleak – this Spanish show follows 18-year-old Javi as he navigates university after personal tragedy, and shows students dealing with grief, anxiety, and the pressure to experience the perfect university experience. The six half-hour episodes are eminently bingeable and capture the forced intimacy that comes from being thrown together with strangers who you’re told will be friends for life, but in reality are barely friends for the whole of freshers.

    Leo Woodall plays Edward Brooks, a Cambridge PhD student whose work on prime numbers could apparently unlock every computer in the world, which would be quite the REF impact if true. The eight-episode thriller sees him team up with an NSA agent after his supervisor dies under suspicious circumstances, and it’s very much The Imitation Game meets Good Will Hunting but with added paranoia about research security. Shot on location in Cambridge, critics moaned about its “uneven pacing” and “leaden dialogue,” which does suggest the writers have captured the authentic Cambridge tutorial experience.

    French singer Nolwenn Leroy stars as Fanny, a biologist who returns to teach at the University of Rennes’s biological field station at Paimpont (fictionalised as the “University of Brocéliande”) twenty years after her best friend disappeared and she was the prime suspect. When history repeats itself with another disappearance, we get six episodes of Gallic noir. The series was shot entirely on location at the real university and in the mystical Brocéliande forest, giving us gorgeous establishing shots of campus buildings. It’s particularly refreshing to see academic staff portrayed as accomplished professionals rather than the usual depiction of hapless eccentrics, though the murder rate does suggest their risk assessments need work.

    This is a reboot of the cult Russian sitcom “Univer” that brings five freshmen to Moscow State University’s legendary 510th dormitory block, where returning characters like rector Pavel Zuev try to make MVGU “the best university in the country”. The new students are proper Gen Z types who understand TikTok but not why they need to attend lectures, while dealing with the usual comedy of errors that comes from communal living. It’s basically Fresh Meat for the Soviet education system, and comes with the side plot dish of a wealthy student sponsor opening a dumpling restaurant on campus.

    Muriel Robin plays Louise Arbus, a psycho-criminology professor who solves murders with the help of four carefully selected students. Now in its second full season with new episodes in 2025, it’s like How to Get Away with Murder but only with more wine and fewer actual murders. The students function as a kind of Greek chorus explaining criminology concepts while their professor employs what I’ll describe here as questionable methods. Lots of vintage Volkswagens to look at too.

    It’s a Disney remake nobody wanted, but it puts Nani’s dilemma into policy reality. Her marine biology scholarship becomes the story of care work squeezing out opportunity. The ending has her heading off to university, while Lilo stays with Tūtū as her guardian. Higher education only looks like a choice when someone else is there to pick up the unpaid labour.

    If you’ve been missing the “American discovers themselves at Oxbridge” genre since Saltburn, here’s Sofia Carson learning about poetry and terminal illness. Her performance has been universally panned as “stiff” – one reviewer called her and her co-star “beautiful looking puppets going through motions” – but the film does feature that hidden church in Amsterdam if you’re planning a European city break. The student-supervisor romance is romanticised in ways that feel quite dated these days, and the idea that American students would be treated like a novelty at Oxford suggests the writers have never visited.

    The superhero university returns with our protagonists now framed as terrorists while the actual villain becomes dean. For me at least, it’s a fun satire of how university leaders someone chuck their own students under the bus. The handling of actor Chance Perdomo’s death (his character dies from the neurological toll of his powers) is genuinely moving, and the new villain Dean Cipher is basically every smooth talking university manager you’ve ever met, but with better hair.

    Eva Victor off of TikTok makes her directorial debut with this fractured narrative about a professor dealing with trauma. Shot in Ipswich, Massachusetts, it’s been doing the festival circuit and dividing audiences who either find it “nuanced and brilliant” or “self-pitying mumblecore.” I just thought it was boring.

    The final season of Jack Rooke’s masterpiece begins with the gang on holiday in Faliraki before returning to Brent Uni for their terrifying final year. It’s easily both the funniest and most devastating thing on television, dealing with Danny’s mental health crisis and Jack’s Princess Diana poetry with equal sincerity. If you don’t cry at the ending, you will need to check you still have a pulse. Jon Pointing deserves awards for his portrayal of male depression, and the show remains the gold standard for depicting that specific third-year feeling of everything ending before it’s begun.

    Odessa A’zion (who’s apparently going to be massive) plays a scholarship student facing expulsion after her father’s death, who deals with it by pool-hopping through Chicago’s wealthy suburbs instead of attending her make-or-break meeting. It’s “The Breakfast Club” meets “Booksmart” meets class warfare, with a healthy dose of Malort (if you know, you know). The film captures the emptiness of a campus over the summer – no catering open and the wrong kind of quiet…

    A French philosophy student navigates her Muslim faith, her emerging lesbian identity, and the commute between the Parisian banlieue and the Sorbonne. Based on Fatima Daas’s autobiographical novel, it’s been doing the festival circuit to acclaim, though reviews get it right when they say the pacing is “deliberately contemplative” (nothing happens for ages). Stick with it for some thoughtful A&P parallels – the university serves as both escape and alienation, a place where she can be herself but never quite belong.

    Netflix threw a lot of money at this Japanese series about a college drummer recruited by the “Amadeus of Rock” for his new band. Takeru Satoh learned to actually sing and play guitar for the role, the campus (actually a private management uni in Tokyo) looks amazing and the music slaps. The romance subplot is however dire, not least because the male band members have better chemistry with each other than with the female lead.

    Amazon’s take on the 2022 University of Idaho murders focuses on the victims rather than the killer (still on trial when released) – which is fine, but makes for an oddly unfinished documentary. The interviews with the Dean of Students show a management completely overwhelmed by the media circus, while the exploration of how TikTok sleuths made everything worse should be mandatory viewing for anyone teaching crisis communications.

    George Clooney produced this documentary about decades of sexual abuse by team doctor Richard Strauss and the wrestling coaches who allegedly knew. It’s harrowing viewing – a real lesson in how institutional harbouring works – and multiple reviewers single out current congressman Jim Jordan’s alleged complicity, making this essential context for American politics watchers.

    Season 2 of South Africa’s answer to “Euphoria” has more chaos in the Pantera residence. Four young women navigate koshuis culture, drug dealing to pay fees, and the casual trauma of South African university life. It’s dedicated to the late rapper Angie Oeh and features enough Afrikaans slang to make subtitles essential even for Dutch speakers. The show’s frank depiction of everything from abortion to assault has made it a massive hit on Showmax while horrifying conservative viewers, which is usually a good sign.

    It’s a merger! Due to budget cuts, a university merges its engineering department with its modelling department, forcing computer science students to share space with fashion students. The protagonist, Ju Yeon San, is a brilliant coder who treats human emotion like buggy software that needs fixing. When campus celebrity Kang Min Hak – famous from a dating show but unable to operate a laptop – accidentally destroys her computer, he becomes the test subject for her new AI dating programme, LOVE.exe. A cautionary tale for those engaged in wedging modules together to create “interdisciplinary” programmes.

    The Dutch have made a #MeToo university drama, focusing on a young lawyer forced to re-examine her “consensual” relationship with her thesis supervisor when he’s accused of abuse by current students. Based loosely on real University of Amsterdam scandals, it features a charismatic predator (Fedja van Huêt is terrifyingly good) and asks uncomfortable questions about power and consent.

    Benito Skinner (of TikTok fame) created this series about a closeted freshman football player desperately trying to maintain his facade. Filmed in Toronto pretending to be America, featuring actors who are clearly 30 pretending to be 18, it nonetheless captures something real about the exhausting performance of identity that university demands. Reviews praise its “chaotic energy” and “intentionally unlikeable characters” – it certainly reminded me of those lads lads in the sports clubs that roam around in jackets.

    A mockumentary that follows a struggling junior college cheerleading team in Oklahoma. Kristin Chenoweth plays an assistant coach with aggressively toxic positivity, while the rest of the cast nail a specific community college/clearing energy of “we’re all here because we couldn’t get in anywhere else.” Wholesome chaos.

    Kristen Stewart’s directorial debut adapts the memoir of a competitive swimmer turned writer navigating trauma through a non-linear narrative. Jim Belushi plays Ken Kesey running a writing workshop, and reviews are divided between “visionary” and “pretentious,” with one critic comparing it to “watching someone’s therapy session through a kaleidoscope.” It took them 10 years to finish it, and it very much felt like a decade watching it.

    A soapy “vertical” (watch it on your phone Grandad) mini-series that dives into the high-stakes, exclusionary world of elite university Greek Life. The plot follows a student at a top-tier university who becomes entangled in a volatile love triangle, struggling to balance a relationship with her boyfriend while maintaining a secret affair with a fraternity president. Starring K-Ledani, Amalie Vein, and Ellen Dadasyan, the show explores the social stratification of campus culture, where maintaining one’s reputation in the “elite social scene” often comes at the cost of personal integrity. Ideal for a hangover.

    Fees! An Indonesian student accepts a polygamous marriage to fund her Korean study abroad dreams. It’s based on a hit novel and was the first Indonesian film shot on location in Korea, combining K-drama aesthetics with conservative Islamic values. The student finance crisis that drives the plot feels painfully real even if the solution doesn’t.

    This documentary follows tech millionaire Bryan Johnson as he spends $2 million a year trying to reverse aging. The contrast between his son preparing for university naturally while Bryan frantically tries to reclaim his youth through supplements and plasma exchanges is weirdly poignant. Academics from Harvard and Birmingham pop up to point out the obvious flaws in his methodology while he ignores them, making this basically a film about the dangers of having too much money and not enough peer review.

    Student protests

    If you’re in the mood for student protest cinema, 2025 has a clutch. As Quatro Estações da Juventude (Four seasons of youth) spent a decade documenting Brazilian students fighting to keep their university funded while completing their degrees, creating an archive of a generation that refused to give up. Inner blooming springs captures Georgian students at Tbilisi State University moving between lecture halls and tear gas during the Foreign Agents law protests, with the director as part of the friend group being filmed, blurring the line between documentation and participation.

    And Wake up, Serbia! gains exclusive access inside Belgrade’s University of Dramatic Arts during the student uprising, showing how the campus became the nerve centre of resistance against authoritarianism. All three refuse to romanticise protest – they show the exhaustion, the infighting, the way movements fragment when the cameras leave, and the specific courage required when your education becomes inseparable from your politics.

    This Finnish documentary deserves more attention than it’s getting. An Australian neurodivergent man called Andrew Clutterbuck appears in Helsinki and somehow becomes the darling of Aalto University’s innovation ecosystem. They love him when he’s being disruptive and bringing that “entrepreneurial energy” that the strategic plan talks about. Then something tragic happens (the film’s coy about what), and suddenly Mr Innovation is yesterday’s news. Nine psychiatric diagnoses later, the “happiest country in the world” can’t find a bed for him.

    And the rest

    I’ve not had time to catch everything, obviously. Tiny Toons Looniversity finished with the characters getting degrees in “Toonery” from ACME Looniversity [insert Mickey Mouse degrees joke here]. Night of the dead sorority babes exists and features cannibal witches running a sorority and some nudity. There’s also Shutter, where past university crimes return as literal ghosts, The family plan 2, where Mark Wahlberg’s daughter studying in London kicks off an European heist (you’ll not be hankering for Family Plan 1), and College of the dead does exactly what it says on the tin.

    Happy viewing, and if you’re struggling to stream any of these, HMU and I’ll put you in touch with Firestick Dave down the road from me 😉

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  • Students in Wales deserve better protection from Medr

    Students in Wales deserve better protection from Medr

    Medr, the new higher education regulator in Wales, carried out an initial consultation around a year ago on its regulatory system.

    It has now produced more detailed proposals in this area and is inviting consultation responses. In the proposed regulatory approach, most requirements will apply from August 2026, with some coming into force a year later.

    Medr aims to “establish minimum expectations for compliance” and to ensure ‘that non-compliance is addressed with proportionate intervention’. Despite this, on the basis of what is in the consultation documents, Medr’s proposed regulatory approach does not outline minimum expectations for compliance in relation to gender-based violence in HE.

    The regulatory condition on “staff and learner welfare” within Medr’s proposed regulatory system covers “policies, procedures and services that promote and support staff and learner wellbeing and safety”, the latter term encompassing “freedom from harms” including harassment, misconduct, violence (including sexual violence) and hate crime (all defined in Medr’s Glossary of Terms).

    But mandatory regulatory action on addressing sexual harassment, or gender-based violence more widely, is not mentioned in the proposals and any requirements for data collection are left unclear.

    Nor does it appear that Medr are planning to publish a stand-alone regulatory condition on gender-based violence or carry out independent data collection in this area. This is particularly surprising as Medr has previously requested data reporting from HEIs on policies, training, prevention activities, and definitions used in this area (in November 2024).

    The data reported to them was, they stated, going to be used (among other things) to “inform our policy and registration developments”. In the documents shared as part of the consultation, it is not clear whether or how this data has been drawn on to develop the draft regulatory strategy.

    Nor has there been any mention of a forthcoming regulatory condition on gender-based violence, and indeed it would be counter-intuitive to introduce a regulatory system now only to amend it in a year or two’s time. We have to assume, therefore, that this is the totality of Medr’s proposed regulation in this area.

    By contrast, the Office for Students in England – Medr’s regulatory sibling – has introduced a specific regulatory condition (E6) for addressing ‘harassment and sexual misconduct in higher education, in force since 1st August 2025. It has also gathered and published data to inform this approach (which both Jim and I have written about on Wonkhe).

    But from what has been published so far on Medr’s proposed regulatory approach, there will be nothing comparable to what is in place in England, let alone to stronger frameworks such as in Australia.

    This is an urgent public health issue. There are around 149,000 students in Wales. Extrapolating from these numbers using Steele et al.’s study of Oxford University – the most robust we have methodologically in the UK at present – we would expect that around 29,800 students would experience attempted or forced sexual touching or rape every year.

    This figure does not include students who may experience stalking, sexual harassment (online or offline) or non-sexual forms of intimate partner abuse – so the total number of students who experience gender-based violence would be higher than this.

    Indeed, the Crime Survey of England and Wales consistently finds that students are roughly twice as likely as other occupational group most likely to experience stalking, sexual violence and domestic abuse.

    If Medr’s proposals are implemented in a similar form to the consultation version, a two-tier system will come into force between England and Wales. Requirements will be in place for English universities to train all staff and students, prohibit staff-student intimate relationships, and implement ‘fair’ processes for handling complaints, among other provisions. In Wales, none of these provisions will be required.

    Linking up with Wales’ national strategy

    These gaps are especially surprising in the context of a strong Welsh national strategy on Violence against Women, Domestic Abuse and Sexual Violence (VAWDASV), which has a lot of material that is relevant to higher education institutions.

    For example, Objective 2 is to “increase awareness in children, young people and adults of the importance of safe, equal and healthy relationships and empowering them to positive personal choices” and objective 4 is to “make early intervention and prevention a priority”.

    Overall, the strategy takes a public health approach to VAWDASV, prioritising data-driven efforts in this area.

    Unfortunately this approach is not clearly linked up with Medr’s regulatory approach. Medr’s consultation document does state that:

    To comply with this condition, providers must […] take account of other expectations such as those of Welsh Government (Annex B, p.71-2)

    However, the objectives of the national VAWDASV strategy do not appear to have informed the development of the proposed regulatory system. There is no discussion, for example, of early intervention and prevention, nor any clear route through which Medr could require HEIs to take action in this area.

    Staff and learner welfare

    As noted above, staff and learner welfare is the regulatory category that covers “harassment, misconduct, violence (including sexual violence) and hate crime”. The regulatory conditions Medr proposes are that:

    • All tertiary providers must conduct an annual staff and learner welfare self-evaluation
    • The annual staff and learner welfare self-evaluation must be approved by the providers’ governing body or equivalent

    These provisions demonstrate the reliance on self-evaluation in Medr’s approach. But Medr will not scrutinise or even see the self-assessments that are carried out by HEIs, only asking for the action plans produced as a result of these self-evaluations to be submitted to them. Medr “will only call in self-evaluations if concerns and risks are raised or identified.”

    This creates a catch-22 situation. It allows gender-based violence to remain invisible within HEIs if they choose not to collect data or self-evaluate in relation to it. The only consistent data collection in this area is the Crime Survey of England and Wales, which does not disaggregate data by institution, or allow for urgent risks to be identified, so this is not helpful for assessing an institution-level approach.

    Other than that, there is currently no mandatory data collection within or across higher education institutions in Wales relating to gender-based violence experienced by students or by staff.

    As a result, within the existing data landscape, there is no way in which concerns or risks can be raised or identified by Medr. Under the proposed regulatory system, HEIs will have discretion as to whether or not they choose to include issues relating to gender-based violence in their self-evaluation.

    If they choose not to include gender-based violence, they will be able to self-evaluate and create an action plan that does not mention this issue – and still remain compliant with Medr’s regulatory approach.

    Perhaps people can report “issues and concerns” directly to Medr? Unfortunately not. Medr states on their website that:

    We might become involved in issues with regulated institutions: which charge excess full-time undergraduate fees; which fail to comply with fee and access plan requirements; whose quality of education is inadequate; which don’t comply with the Financial Management Code; or which don’t comply with their Prevent duty.

    Gender-based violence is not included in areas in which Medr will “become involved”. Complaints made directly to Medr will not, therefore, provide any basis on which Medr will assess HEIs’ compliance on staff and learner welfare relating to gender-based violence.

    To sum up, the approach outlined in the consultation document means that cases of gender-based violence may not be visible in institutional or sector-level data. They will only emerge via survivors and activists raising issues via mainstream media or social media after failures have already occurred, as is currently being exemplified in mainstream media reporting.

    Complaints

    Often, the only way in which gender-based violence becomes visible to an institution is through complaints. The regulatory approach to complaints policies and data reporting is therefore important to scrutinise.

    Medr’s proposed condition of regulation on complaints procedures states that:

    …All providers registered with or funded by Medr must have in place a procedure for investigating complaints made by learners and former learners about an act or omission of the provider, and take reasonable steps to make the procedure known to learners.

    That’s all. There is no provision in the regulatory approach that requires such complaint processes to be demonstrated to be effective. Furthermore, the “primary source of monitoring for this condition” will be providers’ self-declaration they have met the compliance requirements.

    There is no requirement for regular review of complaints processes on the basis of feedback or information-gathering to assess their effectiveness. This is inadequate.

    There is a brief mention of the Office for the Independent Adjudicator for HE (OIAHE):

    Medr will consider data relating to complaints numbers, patterns and trends. For providers within the complaints scheme of the Office of the Independent Adjudicator, data will be sourced via the scheme.

    This is to be welcomed, especially as the OIAHE is currently consulting on its guidance for handling harassment and sexual misconduct complaints. But it is insufficient as the sole mechanisms for gathering data on complaints, and it is important to note its limitations.

    My research has demonstrated that in relation to complaints of staff-student sexual misconduct – a serious risk to student welfare and to equality of opportunity – students have been unable to access the services of the OIAHE to escalate their complaint because they are unable to complete the complaints process at their own institution.

    This leads to risk to student welfare (both those reporting and others who might be targeted by the same staff member); and reputational risks for the sector as well as individual higher education institutions, as students who are unable to gain safety or remedy by using existing complaints and regulatory structures are obliged to remain in unsafe, harmful situations (or drop out), and may turn to the media to raise awareness of their situation and protect others.

    This is a particularly urgent issue in Wales due to a recent High Court case from the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama (RWCMD) taken out by two students, Sydney Feder and Alyse McCamish, where the RWCMD was found to have failed in its duties to follow its own policies or to investigate issues with a reasonable duty of care. This case was unusual in that the two students who took forward this case had the resources and knowledge to do so and were willing and able to fight a six-year battle to get their case through the courts.

    Based on my research with students and staff who have reported gender-based violence to their institutions, there are many other failures from higher education institutions across the UK that could lead to similar legal challenges, but with very short time limits, insufficient legal aid, and the absence of a culture of taking legal action in the UK in this area, these cases have tended not to be taken forward.

    Student complainants should not have to go through multiple rounds of complaints process at their HEI and then the OIAHE, taking months or – more often – years, in order to access safety and remedy during their studies.

    A further issue is the need for a mechanism for students, staff, and their advocates to be able to alert the regulator to issues of serious concern with safety, where they have not been able to raise issues within complaints processes.

    For example, where a staff member is targeting students with sexualised or harassing messages, but the university are failing to stop the behaviour, leading to students being unable to safely access teaching and learning, with serious risks to student welfare. There are also potential situations where safety concerns could lead to student or staff suicide, where urgent action may be needed to prevent very serious outcomes, in line with the crucial campaign for a duty of care in UK HE by #ForThe100.

    If sufficient action is not being taken by the institution to address student/staff safety, there needs to be a mechanism via which these concerns can be escalated. There is no provision for this in current regulations.

    Reportable events

    More familiar concerns from across UK HE are also evident in the proposed regulatory system. Universities in Wales, as “exempt charities” are regulated by Medr instead of the Charity Commission.

    However – as we have previously raised as an issue in England, and as Mary Synge has outlined in detail in relation to broader legal arguments – this has led to HEIs being much more lightly regulated than the rest of the charity sector.

    In relation to in relation to safeguarding and sexual harassment/abuse, this is a particularly urgent issue. Unfortunately, the regulatory proposals embed these different standards of regulation for HEIs compared to other charities in relation to “reportable events”, i.e. incidents that the regulator needs to be informed about.

    Charity Commission guidance states that “you should report an incident if it results in, or risks, significant harm to people who come into contact with your charity through its work […or] harm to your charity’s work or reputation”.

    A related document gives examples of what to report including an allegation that a staff member has physically or sexually assaulted or neglected a beneficiary whilst under the charity’s care; or an allegation that a trustee, staff member or volunteer has been sexually assaulted by another trustee, staff member or volunteer.

    Medr’s proposed regulatory approach retains the language of “significant harm” without defining what this means, without giving examples of what to report, and without naming sexual assault or safeguarding issues. It does, however, outline a separate category of “notifiable events” that include “a matter relating to the provider’s compliance with the Prevent duty”.

    This approach – as with the Office for Students’ approach in England – is unjustifiable given the high levels of gender-based violence occurring in higher education. The regulatory approach should be amended to align with the Charity Commission guidance.

    The issues outlined in the Charity Commission guidance would constitute a serious risk to the operation of an HEI in its charitable function, and as such must be overseen by the regulator. At the very least, Medr’s regulatory approach needs to clarify what constitutes ‘significant harm’. This should include incidents that could constitute serious sexual harm.

    Furthermore, it is unclear why “notifiable events” include breaches of compliance relating to the Prevent duty, but not other legal duties such as breaches of equalities, health and safety, or safeguarding legal duties.

    Moving beyond self-regulation of HEIs

    The proposed regulatory approach states that “monitoring activity” will allow Medr to ascertain “whether providers are meeting their Conditions of Registration and/or Funding, and whether any regulatory concern or risk is emerging”.

    As the regulatory approach stands, this claim is inaccurate in relation to gender-based violence – without any data being reported to Medr in this area, or even gathered by HEIs in many cases, there is no way in which Medr will be able to assess any risks in this area.

    There can be no charitable institutions in the UK where the risks of sexual violence, exploitation and abuse are higher than in universities. Gender-based violence in higher education is a major public health concern and should also be a high priority when considering equal access to education. As such, HEIs should be subject to the most stringent regulation.

    If Medr considers that the regulatory strategy more broadly is not the right place to set out these more detailed requirements, a further regulatory condition from Medr in this area on HEIs’ responsibilities in relation to gender-based violence should be published.

    However, the Office for Students already have an explicit regulatory condition in this area and I can’t see a good reason why Medr should wait any longer before taking such a step. Either way, within this consultation document, the foundations need to be laid to enable this work to be done. The regulatory strategy proposed, as it stands, will leave the higher education sector to continue to self-regulate around issues of gender-based violence, despite evidence of high prevalence.

    A further point that should be considered in a regulatory approach is transparency. This is crucial because transparency and openness are a primary concern for students who report gender-based violence to their HEI. But HEIs are unlikely to take these steps towards transparency without the regulator requiring them to do so.

    In recognition of this need for regulators to require transparency, in a recent review for the Higher Education Authority of the Irish Government’s national framework for Ending Sexual Violence and Harassment (ESVH), the Expert Group (which I chaired) have recommended that

    Institutions publish information on ESVH work as part of their public EDI reporting, including anonymised data on formal reports and outcomes, good practice case studies, an evaluation of education and training initiatives, and other relevant data.

    This recommendation looks likely to be adopted nationally in Ireland, requiring all HEIs to take this step in the coming years. However, in the Medr regulatory strategy, “transparency, accountability and public trust” is only discussed in relation to “governance and management”.

    While Medr states more generally that they “encourage a culture of openness and transparency” this appears to only relate to reporting from HEIs to Medr – not to relationships between HEIs and their staff and student body. A fundamental shift is therefore needed in order to move towards greater transparency around institutional data reporting and actions on gender-based violence.

    Overall, Medr appear to be relying on data on gender-based violence to emerge via existing, inadequate, data sources, or to allow HEIs to choose whether and how they gather this data. Such an approach will not be effective – if you do not directly and explicitly gather data about gender-based violence, it will remain invisible, not least because those who experience even the most severe forms of gender-based violence often do not label their experiences as such.

    More generally, this approach goes against the direction of travel internationally in higher education policy in relation to gender-based violence, leaving Welsh students and staff underserved compared to their peers in England, Ireland, France, Australia, and elsewhere.

    This means that future generations of students and staff will continue to be at risk. Medr must be much bolder in order to fulfil its stated approach to regulation of “clear, enforceable rules that establish minimum expectations for compliance” in relation to gender-based violence in HE.

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  • How an AI-generated song transformed my ELL classroom

    How an AI-generated song transformed my ELL classroom

    Key points:

    A trending AI song went viral, but in my classroom, it did something even more powerful: it unlocked student voice.

    When teachers discuss AI in education, the conversation often focuses on risk: plagiarism, misinformation, or over-reliance on tools. But in my English Language Learners (ELL) classroom, a simple AI-generated song unexpectedly became the catalyst for one of the most joyful, culturally rich, and academically productive lessons of the year.

    It began with a trending headline about an AI-created song that topped a music chart metric. The story was interesting, but what truly captured my attention was its potential as a learning moment: music, identity, language, culture, creativity, and critical thinking–all wrapped in one accessible trend.

    What followed was a powerful reminder that when we honor students’ voices and languages, motivation flourishes, confidence grows, and even the shyest learners can find their space to shine.

    Why music works for ELLs

    Music has always been a powerful tool for language development. Research consistently shows that rhythm, repetition, and melody support vocabulary acquisition, pronunciation, and memory (Schön et al., 2008). For multilingual learners, songs are more than entertainment–they are cultural artifacts and linguistic resources.

    But AI-generated songs add a new dimension. According to UNESCO’s Guidance for Generative AI in Education and Research (2023), AI trends can serve as “entry points for student-centered learning” when used as prompts for analysis, creativity, and discussion rather than passive consumption.

    In this lesson, AI wasn’t the final product; it was the spark. It was neutral, playful, and contemporary–a topic students were naturally curious about. This lowered the affective filter (Krashen, 1982), making students more willing to take risks with language and participate actively.

    From AI trend to multilingual dialogue

    Phase 1: Listening and critical analysis

    We listened to the AI-generated song as a group. Students were immediately intrigued, posing questions such as:

    “How does the computer make a song?”

    “Does it copy another singer?”

    “Why does it sound real?”

    These sparked critical thinking naturally aligned with Bloom’s Taxonomy:

    • Understanding: What is the song about?
    • Analyzing: How does it compare to a human-written song?
    • Evaluating: Is AI music truly ‘creative’?

    Students analyzed the lyrics, identifying figurative language, tone, and structure. Even lower-proficiency learners contributed by highlighting repeated phrases or simple vocabulary.

    Phase 2: The power of translanguaging

    The turning point came when I invited students to choose a song from their home language and bring a short excerpt to share. The classroom transformed instantly.

    Students became cultural guides and storytellers. They explained why a song mattered, translated its meaning into English, discussed metaphors from their cultures, or described musical traditions from home.

    This is translanguaging–using the full linguistic repertoire to make meaning, an approach strongly supported by García & Li (2014) and widely encouraged in TESOL practice.

    Phase 3: Shy learners found their voices

    What surprised me most was the participation of my shyest learners.

    A student who had not spoken aloud all week read translated lyrics from a Kurdish lullaby. Two Yemeni students, usually quiet, collaborated to explain a line of poetry.

    This aligns with research showing that culturally familiar content reduces performance anxiety and increases willingness to communicate (MacIntyre, 2007). When students feel emotionally connected to the material, participation becomes safer and joyful.

    One student said, “This feels like home.”

    By the end of the lesson, every student participated, whether by sharing a song, translating a line, or contributing to analysis.

    Embedding digital and ethical literacy

    Beyond cultural sharing, students engaged in deeper reflection essential for digital literacy (OECD, 2021):

    • Who owns creativity if AI can produce songs?
    • Should AI songs compete with human artists?
    • Does language lose meaning when generated artificially?

    Students debated respectfully, used sentence starters, and justified their opinions, developing both critical reasoning and AI literacy.

    Exit tickets: Evidence of deeper learning

    Students completed exit tickets:

    • One thing I learned about AI-generated music
    • One thing I learned from someone else’s culture
    • One question I still have

    Their responses showed genuine depth:

    • “AI makes us think about what creativity means.”
    • “My friend’s song made me understand his country better.”
    • “I didn’t know Kurdish has words that don’t translate, you need feeling to explain it.”

    The research behind the impact

    This lesson’s success is grounded in research:

    • Translanguaging Enhances Cognition (García & Li, 2014): allowing all languages improves comprehension and expression.
    • Self-Determination Theory (Deci & Ryan, 2000): the lesson fostered autonomy, competence, and relatedness.
    • Lowering the Affective Filter (Krashen, 1982): familiar music reduced anxiety.
    • Digital Literacy Matters (UNESCO, 2023; OECD, 2021): students must analyze AI, not just use it.

    Conclusion: A small trend with big impact

    An AI-generated song might seem trivial, but when transformed thoughtfully, it became a bridge, between languages, cultures, abilities, and levels of confidence.

    In a time when schools are still asking how to use AI meaningfully, this lesson showed that the true power of AI lies not in replacing learning, but in opening doors for every learner to express who they are.

    I encourage educators to try this activity–not to teach AI, but rather to teach humanity.

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  • Why every middle school student deserves a second chance to learn to read

    Why every middle school student deserves a second chance to learn to read

    Key points:

    Between kindergarten and second grade, much of the school day is dedicated to helping our youngest students master phonics, syllabication, and letter-sound correspondence–the essential building blocks to lifelong learning.

    Unfortunately, this foundational reading instruction has been stamped with an arbitrary expiration date. Students who miss that critical learning window, including our English Language Learners (ELL), children with learning disabilities, and those who find reading comprehension challenging, are pushed forward through middle and high school without the tools they need. In the race to catch up to classmates, they struggle academically, emotionally, and in extreme cases, eventually disengage or drop out.

    Thirteen-year-old Alma, for instance, was still learning the English language during those first three years of school. She grappled with literacy for years, watching her peers breeze through assignments while she stumbled over basic decoding. However, by participating in a phonetics-first foundational literacy program in sixth grade, she is now reading at grade level.

    “I am more comfortable when I read,” she shared. “And can I speak more fluently.”

    Alma’s words represent a transformation that American education typically says is impossible after second grade–that every child can become a successful reader if given a second chance.

    Lifting up the learners left behind 

    At Southwestern Jefferson County Consolidated School in Hanover, Ind., I teach middle-school students like Alma who are learning English as their second language. Many spent their formative school years building oral language proficiency and, as a result, lost out on systematic instruction grounded in English phonics patterns. 

    These bright and ambitious students lack basic foundational skills, but are expected to keep up with their classmates. To help ELL students access the same rigorous content as their peers while simultaneously building the decoding skills they missed, we had to give them a do-over without dragging them a step back. 

    Last year, we introduced our students to Readable English, a research-backed phonetic system that makes English decoding visible and teachable at any age. The platform embeds foundational language instruction into grade-level content, including the textbooks, novels, and worksheets all students are using, but with phonetic scaffolding that makes decoding explicit and systematic.

    To help my students unlock the code behind complicated English language rules, we centered our classroom intervention on three core components:

    • Rhyming: The ability to rhyme, typically mastered by age five, is a key early literacy indicator. However, almost every ELL student in my class was missing this vital skill. Changing even one letter can alter the sound of a word, and homographic words like “tear” have completely different sounds and meanings. By embedding a pronunciation guide into classroom content, glyphs–or visual diacritical marks–indicate irregular sounds in common words and provide key information about the sound a particular letter makes.
    • Syllabication patterns: Because our ELL students were busy learning conversational English during the critical K-2 years, systematic syllable division, an essential decoding strategy, was never practiced. Through the platform, visual syllable breaks organize words into simple, readable chunks that make patterns explicit and teachable.
    • Silent letter patterns: With our new phonics platform, students can quickly “hear” different sounds. Unmarked letters make their usual sound while grayed-out letters indicate those with a silent sound. For students frustrated with pronunciation, pulling back the curtain on language rules provided them with that “a-ha” moment.

    The impact on our students’ reading proficiency has been immediate and measurable, creating a cognitive energy shift from decoding to comprehension. Eleven-year-old Rodrigo, who has been in the U.S. for only two years, reports he’s “better at my other classes now” and is seeing boosts in his science, social studies, and math grades.

    Taking a new step on a nationwide level

    The middle-school reading crisis in the U.S. is devastating for our students. One-third of eighth-graders failed to hit the National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) benchmark in reading, the largest percentage ever. In addition, students who fail to build literacy skills exhibit lower levels of achievement and are more likely to drop out of school. 

    The state of Indiana has recognized the crisis and, this fall, launched a new reading initiative for middle-school students. While this effort is a celebrated first step, every school needs the right tools to make intervention a success, especially for our ELL students. 

    Educators can no longer expect students to access grade-level content without giving them grade-level decoding skills. Middle-school students need foundational literacy instruction that respects their age, cognitive development, and dignity. Revisiting primary-grade phonics curriculum isn’t the right answer–educators must empower kids with phonetic scaffolding embedded in the same content their classmates are learning. 

    To help all students excel and embrace a love of reading, it’s time to reject the idea that literacy instruction expires in second grade. Instead, all of us can provide every child, at any age, the chance to become a successful lifelong reader who finds joy in the written word.

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