Japan needs to admit that long-running efforts to address gender inequality in higher education aren’t working, experts say, with antidiversity sentiment spreading from the U.S. and threatening to gain traction.
Despite government policies spanning nearly two decades, women remain severely underrepresented across Japanese universities, particularly in science, technology, engineering and mathematics fields.
As of 2022, women made up just 26.7 percent of faculty nationwide and fewer than half of all students, with even starker disparities in senior academic roles and male-dominated disciplines.
Sayaka Oki, a professor at the University of Tokyo, described the situation as “terrible.”
“Gender equality doesn’t really exist here,” she added.
As of 2022, only 11 percent of professors at Oki’s university were female, with particularly low representation in engineering. In undergraduate programs in physics and engineering, women typically make up only about 15 percent of the student population.
“The gender imbalance starts at the student level and gets worse in higher positions,” she said. The university has launched repeated initiatives that have attempted to address the problem and has reported that it has “steadily increased the number of women in faculty positions.”
Since 2006, Japan’s government has implemented a “goal and timetable” policy aimed at increasing women researchers in natural sciences, setting numerical hiring targets every five years.
However, these targets have remained largely unchanged because the proportion of women earning doctoral degrees—the main feeder for research roles—has not significantly increased.
Ginko Kawano, professor of gender equality at Kyushu University, said that, “after nearly two decades, the policy has not produced significant results, and it appears we are now at a turning point in terms of policy design.”
Yet “while this sends a positive message that women are welcome in these disciplines, it is unlikely to serve as a fundamental solution to the underlying issues,” she said.
She also acknowledged strong opposition from students and faculty: “Institutions that choose to introduce this system should clearly explain the reasoning behind it.
“At the same time, it is crucial for university faculty to have access to the information and knowledge necessary to evaluate the merits and drawbacks of such quotas.
“For example, they should be aware of the historical exclusion of women from science, and recognize the persistent bias that suggest[s] women are not suited for STEM fields—biases that continue to shape the choices women feel able to make,” Kawano said.
Adding to the complexity is a political environment increasingly wary of diversity initiatives.
Kawano warned that antidiversity sentiment similar to that in the U.S. could gain traction in Japan, although opposition to gender equality policies has existed independently for years.
Akiyoshi Yonezawa, professor of higher education in the Global Strategy Office at Tohoku University, highlighted demographic pressures pushing universities toward diversity.
“Since around 1990, the number of 18-year-olds has continuously declined and is expected to continue until at least 2040,” he said.
In response, women and international students have been framed as essential for sustaining Japan’s knowledge economy.
Yonezawa criticized how diversity initiatives in Japan are often framed: “DEI initiatives in Japanese universities and society tend to be promoted as a ‘catch-up’ Western mindset rather than intrinsic value formation through daily experience. This makes DEI activities in Japan’s higher education fragile in the long term when faced with controversy.”
Institutional barriers also persist. Oki described how her university’s collegial governance system complicates efforts to implement top-down diversity policies and secure funding, which often comes with centralized control conditions.
“To access the fund, we’re required to adopt a more top-down management style,” she said. “That’s difficult because our university traditionally follows a collegial governance model.”
Oki agreed that there was a risk that international developments had made the situation potentially more difficult—particularly in the U.S., where things like the ban on affirmative action had made colleagues “more cautious about what might happen here.”
Academics are cynics. We have to be. We critique our students, our peers and ourselves. It’s how we were trained. It’s how we write and publish and secure grants. But sometimes you have to know when to declare victory.
If instead of looking at President Trump’s first 100-plus days, we look at higher education as an institution over the past 100-plus years, it becomes clear we should be celebrating higher education’s triumph and not bemoaning its demise. A century ago, U.S. universities lagged their European counterparts. In fact, many universities that are household names today were still teachers’ colleges (San Diego State University was San Diego State Teachers College) or had yet to be founded (the University of California, San Diego). Ivy League campuses like Harvard, Princeton and Yale Universities actively excluded Jewish and Black applicants. The concepts of academic freedom and tenure were nascent. The National Science Foundation did not exist.
Universities did great things during the 20th century. Presidents and faculty found strength and legitimacy through relevance. They helped in the all-out effort to win the Second World War. Universities anticipated the needs of the Cold War. Research labs produced products that improved people’s daily lives. The University of Minnesota patented Honeycrisp apples. The University of Wisconsin patented fortifying milk with vitamin D.
Universities not only solved practical problems, but they also helped us understand ourselves. Faculty explored and legitimized new areas of study: women’s studies, ethnic studies, area studies. They fused disciplines to create fields to understand our bodies and our minds, such as neuroscience and biotechnology.
As universities expanded graduate education, they trained cadres of researchers and professionals who populated state, federal and international agencies. For instance, the rise of the global environmental movement has been traced to the emergence of communities of actors with similar scientific understanding and motivations to identify and address hazards. The almost exponential increase in university training and science production was not limited to our shores; it was global. Over the 20th century, the rapid expansion of mass schooling, up to and through higher education, sparked the education revolution and created a “schooled society.”
The Challenge
Many faculty talk about higher education as though it is weak, when arguably it has been the most successful and influential social institution over the past 100 years. If we take a longer-term view, higher education has not lost. Higher education won. But the game is being reset.
Higher education’s victories were hard fought. They were political. They were negotiated. They required collective action. Through decades of fighting, universities moved past excluding applicants based on race and sex. Then for decades they used affirmative action, followed by holistic review, to more equitably admit students. They established norms for academic freedom and tenure. They became sites for open debate and social and political protest.
These types of wins are not easy to come by. They require common principles and interests and a shared sense of what counts as knowledge and how the world works. It is hard to mobilize if everything is socially constructed and morally relative and if we look for ways to critique rather than concur.
Our challenge in this new era is primarily one of legitimacy. Too many politicians and voters see us as illegitimate because too much of what we do is irrelevant. I have had my work on voter turnout criticized for not correctly guessing which of the following was the reviewer’s preferred term: Chicano, Chicana/o, Chicano/a, Chicanx, Hispanic, Latina and Latino, Latina/o, Latino/a, Latin@, Latinx, Latine. Though there is a place for thinking about names and their usage, the point of the paper was: How do we get more Hispanic students to vote?
The Good News
Some of the most direct efforts to limit the influence of higher education are occurring on our own turf. Moneyed interests and Trump acolytes have sought to create conservative centers at Ohio State University, the University of Texas at Austin and the University of Florida. When centers like these are founded, we should recognize that we have the home court advantage. We should engage with their leaders and faculty—we are not outnumbered. We should send our students to enroll in their courses and invite their students to dialogue with us. We have immense forms of cultural and social capital and vast networks. Our disciplines have rich traditions for ways of understanding the world and addressing its problems. We have insightful perspectives for understanding the human condition, thinking about natural law and questioning what the social contract should look like in the 21st century.
We should look back to how faculty made such strong advances in the last century. For instance, in 1915, the American Association of University Professors adopted a Declaration of Principles. That document served as the foundation for the future 1940 Statement of Principles on Academic Freedom and Tenure, which was jointly developed with the Association of American Colleges (now the American Association of Colleges and Universities). The 1940 document was so promising because it represented agreement between faculty and university leaders.
Those documents are worth revisiting for both their substance and process. For example, we should remind our detractors that academic freedom comes with concomitant responsibilities. We are criticized for attempting to brainwash America’s youth, but the AAUP’s 1915 Declaration of Principles states,
“The university teacher, in giving instruction upon controversial matters, while he is under no obligation to hide his own opinion under a mountain of equivocal verbiage, should … set forth justly, without suppression or innuendo, the divergent opinions of other investigators; he should cause his students to become familiar with the best published expressions of the great historic types of doctrine upon the questions at issue; and he should, above all, remember that his business is not to provide his students with ready-made conclusions, but to train them to think for themselves.”
In the world of social media and generative artificial intelligence, training students to think for themselves may be more important than ever. As faculty, we should practice thinking like the early leaders of the AAUP and seek to build national solidarity and articulate a shared purpose for higher education.
We should accept that conservative politicians are attacking higher education not because it is weak but because it is so strong. In this time, we must rededicate ourselves to a cause that will outlast our careers, a cause worthy of the collective efforts of generations of scholars. We must advance the public good. By improving the public good, we will be relevant, and by being relevant, we will reclaim legitimacy. We must show that we can do what Google and ChatGPT cannot: We can train students to think and to be good citizens.
Frank Fernandez is an associate professor of educational leadership and policy analysis at the University of Wisconsin at Madison. He writes about the role of higher education in society.
Three in four U.S. students say they hope or plan to study abroad, but a lack of financial resources may hinder those dreams, according to a 2025 Terra Dotta survey.
The survey, which included responses from 275 college students, found that 80 percent of students said insufficient funds would prevent them from studying abroad. Of respondents who have studied abroad or committed to a program abroad, two in five students said they expect to pay over $10,000 for their experiences.
Terra Dotta’s report also noted students want more clarity from their institution about financial aid opportunities to address study abroad expenses.
Methodology
Terra Dotta’s survey included 275 respondents from two- and four-year colleges and universities, both public and private. The study was fielded in February. A majority of respondents had plans to study abroad or had studied abroad previously.
Barriers to access: Study abroad is linked to personal and professional development for participants. A 2024 survey of students from Terra Dotta found that those who studied abroad said the experience helped them identify adaptability and resilience, cross-cultural communication, and problem-solving in new situations as the benefits most useful for their future careers.
However, not every student is able to participate due to financial burdens; among students who don’t plan to study abroad, 48 percent attributed their decision to financial concerns. Cost of attendance is one of the top reasons college students leave higher education, and it can also be a barrier to student participation in on-campus events. A 2024 Student Voice survey by Inside Higher Ed and Generation Lab found that 17 percent of students would get more involved in campus activities and events if attendance or participation were less expensive.
Other reasons a student might choose not to study abroad include safety concerns (40 percent), geopolitical issues (28 percent) and worried parents (25 percent). Three-quarters of respondents indicated the wars in Ukraine and Gaza impacted their interest in going abroad.
Academic requirements and a lack of alignment are other challenges for students. Eighteen percent of students said they wouldn’t study abroad due to their major program requirements, and 16 percent think greater alignment between their field of study and study abroad would make the experience more accessible.
Seventeen percent of respondents said they don’t know anything about study abroad or haven’t heard of opportunities, “indicating an opportunity for [colleges] to reach more students,” according to the report.
Footing the bill: When asked to add up tuition, housing, airfare and other expenses, 83 percent of respondents said they plan to spend or spent more than $5,000 on study abroad, and 11 percent said the experience costs roughly $15,000.
Twelve percent of respondents said study abroad experiences were included in their tuition, so they expect to pay nothing additional. Approximately one in five students said they’d pay for study abroad experiences themselves, a 20 percent change from the previous year, according to the report.
Student respondents indicated they want their institution to take on a larger role in addressing the cost of study abroad; one-third of respondents said colleges could make study abroad experiences more accessible by providing more education on financial aid for such programs. If respondents could give their campus advice on improving study abroad experiences, two-thirds said they’d like easier access to financial aid.
Other trends: In addition to the barriers to study abroad, Terra Dotta’s report explored student interests and development related to the experience.
The U.K. is the most popular study abroad destination for respondents (41 percent), mirroring an emerging trend among U.S. students indicating interest in U.K. undergraduate education. Australia (32 percent), Spain (26 percent), Italy (21 percent) and Ireland (21 percent) were other popular destinations. Only 1 percent of students said they planned to travel to China to study.
Three in five respondents said they think study abroad is at least somewhat important for their personal growth, and about a third said experiencing personal growth is one of the top reasons they plan to study abroad.
Of students who had completed a study abroad experience (n=170), a majority said it impacted their worldview by exposing them to new ideas. Students said they were most surprised by social norms and etiquette (47 percent), as well as dining and food customs (24 percent) and the local educational system and values (24 percent).
Praising a Malcolm Gladwell book may not be the No. 1 way to seem helplessly uncool with your academic colleagues, but it is close. Share with any random social scientist—my people—that you are reading Gladwell, and you are likely to hear a long lecture detailing the flaws and shortcomings of Gladwell’s writing.
Ignore the skeptics. Reading a Gladwell book is like listening to a well-crafted song: You can enjoy the experience without agreeing with the lyrics.
Gladwell’s most recent book is Revenge of the Tipping Point. As with all Gladwell books, the audiobook experience will be your best reading bet. Gladwell is a fantastic writer. His narration style is conversational, intimate and energizing. Revenge of the Tipping Point is an all-new book, taking as its starting place the 2000 Tipping Point publication that launched Gladwell into the nonfiction stratosphere. Like the original, Revenge of the Tipping Point seeks to uncover the hidden forces that drive social trends. The book uses stories and a mix of academic research and data to explain phenomena as diverse as the COVID epidemic, the spread of opiate addiction and the rapid cultural and legal embrace of gay marriage.
For critics of Gladwell (likely a large proportion of Inside Higher Ed readers), Revenge of the Tipping Point will generate a familiar set of objections. We academics will complain that Gladwell cherry-picks data to support a narrative and fails to include information that may complicate the story. Gladwell’s approach is to structure his stories about social phenomena like a murder mystery, with Gladwell playing the role of Sherlock Holmes. Piecing together the clues, Gladwell reveals the guilty culprit (the policy or cultural phenomenon) responsible for the crime (the trend or social outcome in question). As academics, we know that various variables, forces, structures and random causes drive most social trends. Gladwell’s books are satisfying precisely because he is a master of filtering out complexity. You feel smarter after reading Gladwell, even if you aren’t.
Knowing all this going into reading Gladwell, including Revenge of the Tipping Point, can help ensure that reading his books is enjoyable and productive. For those of us in higher education, Gladwell has a good deal to say about how universities (well, elite universities) work. I found his explanation as to why highly selective schools field a multitude of sports teams across every conceivable athletic endeavor—from squash to Nordic skiing to equestrian to rugby—reason enough to invest time in Gladwell’s latest book.
We should not confuse Gladwell’s critiques of elite higher education with the ongoing attacks many universities are navigating from the executive branch. One hopes, however, that Gladwell might be rethinking his history of drawing stark moral absolutes when condemning elite institutions while largely ignoring societal positives and complexity. I suspect that the Ivy League is easier to attack when it is cast as Goliath, as opposed to the defender of academic freedom and bulwark against government overreach that recent events have so clearly revealed our universities to be.
This HEPI guest blog was kindly authored by Cheryl Watson, VP of Education, UK at TechnologyOne.
Rising costs are now a defining feature of the student experience in the UK. What once felt like an educational ‘coming of age’ for young people is, for many, becoming a difficult balancing act between academic ambition and financial survival.
From housing and transport to food and essential tech, students today face relentless financial pressures just to participate in university life. For institutional leaders, the evidence is clear: the financial landscape is changing, and approaches to student engagement and support must change with it.
A growing financial gap in UK higher education
Financial pressures on students are not new but are growing in scale and complexity. The joint Minimum Income Standard for Students (MISS) 2024 research with HEPI and the Centre for Research in Social Policy (CRSP) at Loughborough University found that a typical full-time student living away from home needs around £244 per week to maintain a minimum standard of living. Yet, most face a significant shortfall even with part-time work and maintenance support.
One student from the recent MISS focus groups summed up the reality:
Even [like] knowing that I’m in my overdraft…I know it’s interest-free and stuff, but having to rely on it is not ideal, and I want to work to try and get out of it, but also like I can’t afford to.”
It’s a cycle, and you constantly max it out every year, and then you’re constantly working to pay it back.
This financial tightrope is increasingly common.
How student life is being redefined by cost pressures
Students are making tough choices daily between travel, food, work, and study. Financial stress is changing not just what students can afford, but also how they experience university life on a day-to-day basis.
While pressures vary, the underlying theme remains consistent: rising costs are reshaping the student experience in real-time.
The new commuter reality
Many universities still operate around the traditional student living on campus, but according to the Sutton Trust, over 50% of UK students go to university where they grew up and students from poorer backgrounds are three times more likely to commute from home.
For many, this is often because they cannot afford to live near campus. This has real academic consequences, with many students missing classes due to travel costs and disconnected timetables.
I live in Sheffield but a lot of the people in my class seem to commute and there’ll be times where like most of the class don’t turn up for a certain seminar and it’s because… it just wouldn’t make sense to pay all that money to come for an hour and a half and then just leave again.
Without more flexible, student-aware scheduling and targeted support, commuter students risk being structurally disadvantaged.
Technology isn’t optional
Access to digital tools is now essential for participation in academic life. From lecture recordings to online submissions, students are expected to stay constantly connected and equipped.
You definitely need a laptop as well because although the University library provides computers, especially during exam season, you have to book them in advance, and they’ve already been taken up.
For many, the cost of keeping up with technology adds to financial pressures, creating further barriers to participation.
Living with financial stress
Financial pressure is a constant presence for many students. Overdrafts are used regularly, part-time work is essential, and mismatches between payment schedules and bills force difficult choices.
In 2023, HEPI found that more than a quarter of universities operate food banks to support students, while rising rent costs leave little left for essentials.
The difference between first year and second year is that you have that comfort blanket of it, but by the time you get into second year, you’ve already used it, and you’ve got nothing to help you anymore.”
These aren’t one-off lapses in budgeting. They’re the result of an unsynchronised system that does not reflect the financial reality students are working within.
Missing out on student life
Financial pressures also limit participation in the social and community aspects of university life that are vital for wellbeing and development.
Especially in the SU, it’s not ideal because lots of societies will do socials there so if you can’t afford that… It might seem silly, but if you’re part of a sports society then there is some sort of expectation to go to Sports Night on a Wednesday most weeks so that obviously adds up if you’re going most weeks.
Opting out is often the only option, but it comes at a cost to confidence and connection
Why this matters for universities and policymakers
Financial stress is no longer a fringe issue in UK higher education. When 30% of students are taking on extra debt just to cover essentials, and many are skipping classes or missing out on key experiences, the impacts on retention, well-being, and academic outcomes cannot be ignored.
The disconnect between what students need and what current funding models assume continues to grow. Part-time work and family contributions are often treated as standard, despite being unrealistic for many students.
What’s next: Building an evidence base for change
If the Minimum Income Standard for Students 2024 brought much-needed clarity to the financial pressures facing undergraduates, this year’s follow-up takes that work a step further.
The upcoming report, Minimum Income Standard for Students 2025 (MISS25), focuses specifically on first-year students living in purpose-built accommodation, offering the most detailed insight yet into the cost of starting university life in the UK.
The findings are stark. Those on minimum support face a funding gap that must be filled by family or debt. The report also reveals a growing mismatch between student needs and how maintenance systems are designed, particularly for those without access to parental support.
For institutional leaders, policymakers and student advocates, we encourage you to read closely, and to consider how your planning, funding and engagement strategies can respond to what today’s students are telling us.
Click the link below to sign up for a copy of the MISS25 report when it’s ready.
TechnologyOne is a partner of HEPI. TechnologyOne is a global Software as a Service (SaaS) company. Their enterprise SaaS solution transforms business and makes life simple for universities by providing powerful, deeply integrated enterprise software that is incredibly easy to use. The company takes complete responsibility to market, sell, implement, support and run solutions for customers, which reduce time, cost and risk.
ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. — La casa de Maggi, situada en un barrio residencial de esta ciudad, es un refugio para las familias locales. Es un lugar donde, tras solo unas semanas en el programa de cuidado infantil familiar de Maggi esta primavera, un niño en edad preescolar empezó a llamarla “mamá” y a su marido “papá”. Los niños que han terminado el programa de Maggi siguen rogando a sus padres que los lleven a su casa en lugar ir de al colegio.
En los últimos meses, cada vez son menos las familias que acuden a la guardería: se han intensificado las medidas de control de la inmigración y las políticas migratorias han cambiado rápidamente. Tanto Maggi como las familias que dependen de ella, algunas de las cuales son inmigrantes, ya no se sienten seguras.
“Hay mucho miedo en la comunidad latina, y todos ellos son buenas personas, gente buena y trabajadora”, dijo Maggi, de 47 años, en español a través de un intérprete una mañana reciente, mientras observaba a un recién nacido dormir en lo que solía ser su sala de estar. Desde que comenzó su propio negocio de cuidado infantil hace dos años, ha dedicado casi cada centímetro de su espacio común a crear un oasis colorido y lleno de juguetes para los niños. Maggi no entiende por qué tantos inmigrantes corren ahora el riesgo de ser deportados. “Llevamos aquí mucho tiempo”, dijo. “Hemos estado trabajando honestamente”.
Los inmigrantes como Maggi desempeñan un papel crucial en el cuidado infantil en el hogar, así como en el sistema de cuidado infantil más amplio de Estados Unidos, que cuenta con más de 2 millones de trabajadores, en su mayoría mujeres. (The Hechinger Report no utiliza el apellido de Maggi por motivos de seguridad, tanto para ella como para las familias que utilizan sus servicios). Es muy difícil encontrar y retener a los cuidadores, no solo porque el trabajo es duro, sino también por los salarios bajos y las prestaciones limitadas. A nivel nacional, los inmigrantes representan casi el 20 % de la mano de obra dedicada al cuidado infantil. En la ciudad de Nueva York, los inmigrantes representan más del 40 % de la mano de obra dedicada al cuidado infantil. En Los Ángeles, casi el 50 %.
Maggi juega con una de sus pupilas en el patio trasero de su guardería. Maggi dirige una de las pocas guarderías que ofrecen atención las 24 horas del día, los 7 días de la semana, en su ciudad. Credit: Jackie Mader/The Hechinger Report
La guerra de largo alcance de la administración Trump contra la inmigración, que incluye cuotas diarias para la detención de inmigrantes, nuevas restricciones a los permisos de trabajo y la detención de residentes legales, amenaza el ya frágil sistema de cuidado infantil de Estados Unidos. Los proveedores inmigrantes, especialmente aquellos que atienden a familias inmigrantes, se han visto especialmente afectados. Al igual que Maggi, los proveedores de cuidado infantil de todo el país están viendo cómo las familias desaparecen de su cuidado, lo que amenaza la viabilidad de esos negocios. En Estados Unidos, uno de cada cuatro niños menores de seis años tiene al menos un progenitor nacido en el extranjero. Algunos niños que podrían beneficiarse de cuidadores experimentados se encuentran ahora en casa con hermanos mayores o parientes ancianos, perdiéndose la socialización y la preparación para el jardín de infancia que los centros de cuidado proveen. Algunos trabajadores inmigrantes, independientemente de su situación, tienen demasiado miedo para ir a trabajar, lo que agrava la escasez de personal. Recientemente, la administración anunció que prohibiría el acceso de los niños indocumentados a Head Start, el programa de cuidado infantil financiado por el gobierno federal para niños de familias con bajos ingresos.
Relacionado: Los niños pequeños tienen necesidades únicas y proporcionarles los cuidados adecuados puede ser un reto. Nuestro boletín gratuitosobre educación infantil hace un seguimiento de estos temas.
“Las políticas antiinmigrantes pueden y van a debilitar toda nuestra infraestructura de cuidado infantil”, afirmó Karla Coleman-Castillo, analista política sénior del Centro Nacional de Derecho de la Mujer. Los programas domiciliarios, en particular, se verán afectados, ya que suelen atender a más familias inmigrantes. “Cualquier cosa que amenace la estabilidad de la capacidad y la comodidad de las familias para acceder a la educación infantil, y la comodidad de los educadores para incorporarse o permanecer en el mercado laboral, va a afectar a un sector ya de por sí precario”.
Para Maggi, las consecuencias no se han hecho esperar. En febrero, solo unas semanas después de que se anunciaran los primeros cambios, su matrícula pasó de 15 niños al día a siete. Algunas familias regresaron a México. Otras se pusieron tan nerviosas que no se atrevían a desviarse de sus rutas de trabajo ni siquiera para dejar a sus hijos rápidamente. Algunas ya no querían dar su información al estado para obtener ayuda para pagar la guardería.
En mayo, solo dos niños, un bebé y un niño de 4 años, estaban matriculados a tiempo completo, junto con seis niños que acudían a la guardería antes o después del colegio. Maggi acepta a niños que pagan de forma privada y a aquellos que pagan con subsidios de cuidado infantil a través del programa estatal para niños de bajos ingresos. Gana unos 2.000 dólares al mes por el bebé y el niño en edad preescolar, y unos doscientos más cada semana por el cuidado después de la escuela, lo que supone una reducción significativa con respecto a los 9.000 o 10.000 dólares de finales de 2024. Para los padres que no reciben subsidios estatales, mantiene sus tarifas bajas: menos de 7 dólares la hora. “Me dicen que soy barata”, dice Maggi con una leve sonrisa. Pero ella no está dispuesta a subir sus tarifas. “Yo era madre soltera”, dijo. “Recuerdo que me costaba mucho encontrar a alguien que cuidara de mis hijos cuando tenía que trabajar”.
Como muchos proveedores de cuidado infantil que emigraron a Estados Unidos siendo adultos, Maggi comenzó su carrera en un campo completamente diferente. Cuando era una joven madre, Maggi se licenció en Derecho en una universidad de México y trabajó en la fiscalía del estado de Coahuila, en el norte del país. Su trabajo le obligaba a trabajar muchos fines de semana y hasta altas horas de la noche, haciendole difícil cumplir con sus obligaciones como madre soltera. “Me siento muy mal por no haber podido pasar más tiempo con mis hijas”, añade. “Me perdí gran parte de su infancia”.
Durante un año, cuando sus hijas estaban en la escuela primaria, Maggi las matriculó en un internado, las dejaba allí los domingos por la noche y las recogía los viernes por la tarde. Algunos fines de semana, se llevaba a las niñas a su oficina, aunque sabía que no era un lugar adecuado para ellas. Maggi anhelaba un trabajo diferente en el que pudiera pasar más tiempo con ellas.
Hace unos 15 años, cuando la violencia se recrudeció en México, Maggi empezó a pensar seriamente en emigrar. Su primo fue secuestrado y los policías con los que trabajaba fueron asesinados. Maggi recibió amenazas de muerte de los delincuentes a los que había ayudado a procesar. Entonces, un día, unos hombres la detuvieron y le dijeron que sabían dónde vivía y que tenía hijas. “Fue entonces cuando dije: esto no es seguro para mí”.
En 2011, Maggi y las niñas emigraron a Estados Unidos, llevándose todo lo que cupo en cuatro maletas. Terminaron en El Paso, Texas, donde Maggi vendía gelatina y tamales para ganarse la vida. Tres años más tarde, se mudaron a Albuquerque. Maggi conoció a su marido, se casaron y poco después dieron la bienvenida a un hijo, su cuarto hijo.
En Albuquerque, Maggi se estableció en una vida dedicada al cuidado infantil profesional, lo que le resultó natural y le permitió pasar más tiempo con su familia que lo que había podido en México. Ella y su marido se sometieron a un intenso proceso de selección y se convirtieron en padres de acogida. (Nuevo México no exige que las personas tengan un estatus migratorio legal para ser padres de acogida). Maggi matriculó a su hijo menor en un centro Head Start, donde los administradores la animaron a empezar a trabajar como voluntaria. Le encantaba estar en el aula con los niños, pero sin permiso de trabajo no podía convertirse en profesora de Head Start. En su lugar, después de que su hijo empezara la escuela primaria, empezó a ofrecer cuidados infantiles de manera informal a familias que conocía. Maggi obtuvo la licencia del estado hace dos años, tras un largo proceso que incluyó varias inspecciones, una verificación de antecedentes y una formación obligatoria en RCP y principios de cuidado infantil.
Maggi no tardó en crear un negocio muy respetado que cubría una necesidad acuciante en Albuquerque. El suyo es uno de los pocos programas de cuidado infantil de la zona que ofrece atención las 24 horas del día, los 7 días de la semana, algo poco habitual en el sector a pesar de la gran necesidad que existe. Los padres que confían en ella son profesores, cuidadores de personas mayores y personas que atienden llamadas al 911.
En la sala de estar de Maggi, los niños se mueven libremente entre áreas de aprendizaje cuidadosamente seleccionadas con estanterías repletas de juguetes de colores, materiales de arte colocados en una mesa en miniatura y filas de libros. Los pósters educativos de sus paredes refuerzan los colores, los números y las formas. Le encanta exponer a los niños a nuevas experiencias, y con frecuencia los lleva de excursión a tiendas de comestibles o restaurantes. Es cariñosa, pero tiene grandes expectativas para los niños, insistiendo en que recojan lo que ensucian, sigan las instrucciones y digan “por favor” y “gracias”.
“Quiero que tengan valores”, dijo Maggi. “Les enseñamos a respetar a los animales, a las personas y a los demás”.
A finales de 2024, el negocio de Maggi estaba floreciendo y ella esperaba seguir creciendo.
Aún no se han publicado datos sobre hasta qué punto las políticas de inmigración de la actual administración han afectado a la disponibilidad de servicios de cuidado infantil. Pero las entrevistas con los proveedores de cuidado infantil y las investigaciones apuntan a lo que puede suceder en el futuro, y que ya está sucediendo.
Después de que una política de 2008 permitiera al Servicio de Inmigración y Control de Aduanas verificar el estatus migratorio de las personas detenidas por la policía local, se produjo un marcado descenso en la matriculación en guarderías tanto de niños inmigrantes como no inmigrantes. También se produjo una disminución en la oferta de trabajadores de guarderías. Aunque las mujeres eran una minoría entre los deportados, los investigadores descubrieron que la política provocó temor en las comunidades de inmigrantes y muchos abandonaron sus rutinas normales.
En el sector del cuidado infantil, eso es problemático, según los expertos. Los inmigrantes que trabajan en este sector suelen tener un alto nivel de formación y están muy capacitados para interactuar positivamente con los niños, incluso más que los trabajadores nativos. Si una parte cualificada de la mano de obra es esencialmente “purgada” porque tiene demasiado miedo de ir a trabajar, eso reducirá la calidad del cuidado infantil, afirma Chris Herbst, profesor asociado de la Universidad Estatal de Arizona que ha estudiado el efecto de la política de inmigración en el cuidado infantil. “Como resultado, los niños recibirán un servicio deficiente”.
Los programas domiciliarios como el de Maggi se encuentran entre los más vulnerables. Los hijos de inmigrantes son más propensos a estar en esos entornos de cuidado infantil. Sin embargo, en la década anterior a la pandemia, el número de programas domiciliarios disminuyó en un 25 % en todo el país, en parte debido a las dificultades financieras para mantener este tipo de negocios.
Una mañana reciente, Maggi estaba de pie en su sala de estar, vestida con una bata blanca adornada con coloridas mariquitas de dibujos animados. El año pasado, la sala habría estado llena de niños. Ahora está en silencio, salvo por la charla de Kay, la única niña en edad preescolar a la que cuida cada día. (The Hechinger Report no utiliza el nombre completo de Kay para proteger su privacidad). Mientras la pequeña se sentaba en una de las mesitas a hacer una manualidad, Maggi acunaba al bebé, que acababa de despertarse de la siesta. Los ojos del bebé se fijaron en el rostro de Maggi mientras ella lo mimaba.
“¡Hola, chiquito!”, le dijo en español. Él esbozó una sonrisa y el rostro de Maggi se iluminó.
Mientras una de sus hijas se encargaba de alimentar al recién nacido, Maggi siguió a Kay al exterior. La niña de preescolar saltaba del arenero a los columpios y a la casita de juegos, con Maggi siguiéndola diligentemente y jugando a su lado.
Los defensores y expertos afirman que el aumento de las medidas de control de la inmigración puede causar estrés y traumas a los niños pequeños. En Estados Unidos, uno de cada cuatro niños menores de seis años tiene al menos un progenitor nacido en el extranjero. Credit: Jackie Mader/The Hechinger Report
Finalmente, Kay se detuvo y apoyó la cabeza en la cadera de Maggi. Maggi le acarició suavemente la cabeza y le preguntó si estaba lista para mostrar sus habilidades preescolares. Las dos se sentaron en una mesita a la sombra y Kay observó con entusiasmo mientras Maggi sacaba pequeños juguetes de plástico. Kay apiló tres tortugas de plástico. “¡Mamá, mira! ¡Son amigas!”, dijo Kay, riendo.
Kay llegó al programa de Maggi después de que su madre la sacara de otro programa en el que sentía que no la trataban bien. Aquí, Kay es tan feliz que se esconde cuando su madre viene a recogerla. Sin embargo, a Kay le falta un aspecto clave de la experiencia del cuidado infantil. Normalmente, la niña tendría varios amigos de su edad con los que jugar. Ahora, cuando le preguntan quiénes son sus amigos, nombra a las hijas adultas de Maggi.
A Maggi le preocupan aún más los niños que ya no ve. La mayoría están ahora al cuidado de sus abuelos, pero es poco probable que esos familiares sepan cómo estimular el desarrollo y la educación de los niños, dijo Maggi. Muchos no pueden correr con los niños como ella lo hace, y es más probable que recurran a las tabletas o la televisión para entretenerlos.
Ha visto los efectos en los niños que abandonan su programa y regresan más tarde habiendo retrocedido. “Algunos de ellos están haciendo bien las cosas conmigo, y luego, cuando regresan, se han quedado atrás”, dijo. Por ejemplo, un niño al que Maggi solía cuidar acababa de empezar a caminar cuando su madre lo sacó de la guardería a principios de este año, al comienzo de la campaña de represión de la inmigración. Al estar al cuidado de un familiar, Maggi descubrió que ahora pasan gran parte del día sentados en casa.
Antes de que comenzara la segunda administración Trump, el panorama de la atención infantil parecía prometedor en Nuevo México, un estado con una tasa de pobreza infantil crónicamente alta. En 2022, Nuevo México comenzó a implementar una serie de cambios en las políticas de atención infantil. Los votantes aprobaron una enmienda constitucional que garantiza el derecho a la educación infantil temprana, con financiación sostenida para apoyarla. El estado ahora permite que las familias que ganan hasta el 400 % del nivel federal de pobreza, o casi 125.000 dólares al año, puedan optar a la guardería gratuita. Eso incluye a la mayoría de los hogares del estado. Entre otros cambios está que ahora se paga más a los proveedores por los niños que inscriben a través del programa de asistencia del estado.
El aumento ha sido útil para muchos proveedores, incluida Maggi. Antes de la pandemia, recibía unos 490 dólares al mes del estado por cada niño en edad preescolar inscrito en su programa, frente a los 870 dólares al mes que recibe ahora. Si inscribe a bebés que cumplen los requisitos para recibir asistencia para el cuidado infantil, recibe 1.100 dólares al mes, casi 400 dólares más que antes de la pandemia. Sin embargo, necesita que los niños estén inscritos para recibir los pagos. El hecho de que su programa funcione las 24 horas del día, los siete días de la semana, le ayuda. Gana dinero extra del estado cuando cuida a los niños por las tardes y los fines de semana, y recibe una mensualidad para cubrir los gastos de los niños en acogida que recibe.
Los defensores del cuidado infantil en Nuevo México están preocupados porque la política de inmigración afectará al progreso del sector. “Me preocupa que podamos perder centros de educación infantil que podrían ayudar a las familias trabajadoras”, afirmó Maty Miranda, organizadora de OLÉ Nuevo México, una organización sin ánimo de lucro dedicada a la defensa de los derechos. “Podríamos perder a valiosos profesores y los niños perderían esos fuertes vínculos”. Las medidas de control de la inmigración han tenido “un enorme impacto emocional” en los proveedores del estado, añadió.
Las autoridades estatales no respondieron a una solicitud de datos sobre cuántos proveedores de cuidado infantil son inmigrantes. En todo el estado, los inmigrantes representan alrededor del 13 % de la población activa total.
Muchos educadores locales de la primera infancia están asustados debido a la aplicación más extrema de las leyes de inmigración, al igual que lo están los niños a su cargo, dijo Miranda. “A pesar del miedo, los maestros me dicen que cuando entran en sus aulas, intentan olvidar lo que está pasando fuera”, añadió. “Son profesionales que intentan continuar con su trabajo”.
Maggi dijo que está tan ocupada con los niños que permanecen a su cuidado que no tiene tiempo extra para trabajar en otro empleo y obtener más ingresos. No especula sobre cuánto tiempo podrá sobrevivir su familia, sino que prefiere centrarse en la esperanza de que las cosas mejoren.
El mayor temor de Maggi en este momento es el bienestar de los hijos de los inmigrantes a los que ella y tantos otros proveedores de servicios a domicilio atienden. Sabe que algunos de sus niños y familias corren el riesgo de ser detenidos por el ICE, y que ese tipo de interacciones, para los niños, pueden provocar trastornos de estrés postraumático, alteraciones en el desarrollo cerebral y cambios de comportamiento. Algunos de los padres de Maggi le han dejado números de emergencia por si son detenidos por los funcionarios de inmigración.
Muchos de los niños a los que Maggi cuida después de la escuela tienen la edad suficiente para comprender que la deportación es una amenaza. “Muestran miedo, porque sus padres están asustados”, dijo Maggi. “Los niños están empezando a vivir con eso”.
En medio de los vertiginosos cambios políticos, Maggi intenta seguir mirando hacia adelante. Está trabajando para mejorar sus habilidades en inglés. Su marido está obteniendo una credencial para poder ayudarla más en su programa. Sus tres hijas están estudiando para convertirse en educadoras de la primera infancia, con el objetivo de unirse al negocio familiar. Con el tiempo, quiere atender a niños de preescolar inscritos en el programa estatal, lo que le proporcionará una fuente de ingresos estable.
A pesar de toda la incertidumbre, Maggi dice que la sostiene un propósito mayor. “Quiero que disfruten de su infancia”, dijo en una tarde soleada, mirando con cariño a Kay mientras la niña dejaba sus pequeños zapatos rosas a un lado y saltaba a un arenero. Es el tipo de infancia que Maggi recuerda en México. Kay se rió encantada cuando Maggi se agachó y vertió arena fresca sobre los pies de la pequeña. “Una vez que creces, no hay vuelta atrás”.
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
Not because parents don’t matter – they do. In fact, my wife, a primary school teacher, often talks about how parental engagement is one of the strongest predictors of a child’s development. So, when I hear that parents are stepping up to help their children navigate the world of work, that’s no bad thing.
But with more graduates returning to the parental home after university, we need fresh policy approaches to support their early careers and ensure talent isn’t lost from regional economies.
Place-based
Regional graduate schemes offer a promising solution. Initiatives like those in West Yorkshire and Sheffield connect skilled graduates with local SMEs, which often struggle to compete with larger employers for talent. These schemes create new pathways for graduates to stay and thrive in the regions where they studied or grew up, while helping employers fill critical skills gaps. Crucially, they also act as a focal point for collaboration between local authorities, businesses, and training providers (including universities) to drive inclusive regional growth.
Expanding these kinds of initiatives also helps signal to policy makers that higher education has a key role to play in the skills discussion, which too often gets overlooked, leading to fragmented policy making. The formation of Skills England has the potential to address this, provided they properly recognise the contribution of higher education.
University careers services hold a huge reservoir of expertise in supporting graduate transitions. With the right backing, they could play a much greater role in driving regional employability initiatives. The potential is there; it just needs the support and opportunity to be fully unlocked.
Worth it
Part of the solution is for the sector to get better at articulating impact, so we can challenge the lazy characterisations you sometimes see in the media about degrees not being worth it, despite much evidence to the contrary.
What’s perhaps less widely understood is just how far university careers services have come in recent years. They’ve shifted from being a niche student support team at the edge of campus life to playing a central role in institutional strategy. In an era where graduate outcomes are a key metric for regulators, rankings, and reputation, careers services have massively upped their game.
Most universities now offer at least two years of careers support after graduation, and lifetime access is rapidly becoming the norm (our latest sector benchmarking report based on responses from 112 Heads of Careers found 41 per cen of careers services now offer lifetime support to alumni). But how many graduates know this? And more importantly, how many are using it? The support is there – from trained, experienced professionals – but we need to do a better job of shouting about it.
Practicality
And careers services today are doing far more than CV checks and advice appointments. They’re innovating to meet students’ real-world needs. Nottingham Trent University, for example, have set up a Professional Student Wardrobe, helping level the playing field by providing smart clothes for interviews and professional workplaces. And most institutions are also experimenting with AI-powered tools to increase efficiency and scale up support.
Innovative practices are also coming out of Kingston University, which runs simulated assessment centres for all second years to help them understand their skills and get the chance to experience graduate recruitment processes before hitting the real thing after graduation. This initiative has been welcomed by employers and Kingston University recently picked up two accolades at the Institute of Student Employers Awards as a result.
Careers services do a fantastic job of providing tailored support for individual students, but scaling impact is no small feat when the average staff-to-student ratio in careers services is around 1:1,080. However, careers services have found one of the best ways of scaling impact across the institution is to proactively work with academics to embed employability in the curriculum. I like to think of it as yeast in a loaf of bread – invisible, but transformative.
Cause for celebration
We need to get better at celebrating the work of careers services because they’re not just a nice extra; they’re fundamental to helping students succeed and universities thrive. Working at AGCAS, we benefit from seeing the global picture, and it’s clear that institutions in the UK and Ireland really are world leading when it comes to employability. It’s time to recognise that, champion it, and make sure careers teams get the visibility and support they need to keep making such a difference. As a first step, we should all work to increase visibility of careers services to parents, so they can better signpost the support that is available.
The inaugural Academic Employability Awards are a sign that the tide is turning. We’re seeing deeper collaboration between careers teams and academic departments, embedding employability into course design, assessment, and pedagogy.
So, is it parents or careers services that help graduates find jobs? Well, it’s both.
Parents know their child better than anyone and may be able to offer networks, but there’s also a huge amount that careers and employability teams do that really moves the dial for students and graduates.
As a writer, Jo Davis is used to sharing through her online presence. In this episode of The Social Academic, we talk about her life online such as her digital portfolio. And, offline through the coloring books she designed, the Starseed Panic Pages, and journaling. What does it mean to be intentional about your digital and analog life as an academic? We talk about focus and what it can do for your brain to be on paper.
I’ve admired Jo Davis’ writing for years. I followed her on X after reading one of her movie critiques. When she shared a recent podcast appearance on the Moments that Define Us, I thought she was perfect to come on The Social Academic to talk about her life online and on paper. And, what it means to be her authentic self.
Jo Davis is a professor, author, freelance writer, film critic, artist, and a beacon of creativity. She teaches writing and rhetoric at the University of Denver.
[For my good friend, a higher education executive who has seen it all, and suggested that all of us pause, take a look back, and think.]
Neil Postman first gained national attention in 1969 with Teaching as a Subversive Activity, co-authored with Charles Weingartner. In a period marked by war, civil unrest, and cultural transformation, Postman offered a bold challenge to the status quo of American education. Schools, he argued, were failing not because they lacked resources or rigor, but because they had lost sight of their deeper purpose. Instead of fostering critical thinking and civic engagement, they were manufacturing conformity through standardized tests, textbooks, and passive learning. Postman envisioned classrooms without fixed curricula, where teachers would become co-learners and facilitators, helping students develop the tools of inquiry and what he memorably called “crap detection.” It was a radical vision: education as an act of democratic resistance.
By the early 1980s, Postman had turned his attention to how media was shaping society—and deforming education. In The Disappearance of Childhood (1982), he claimed that television was dissolving the cultural boundaries between children and adults. Television, unlike print, made no distinction in content delivery; it treated all viewers as equal consumers of images and sensation. The consequences, he warned, were profound: children were becoming prematurely cynical while adults increasingly behaved like children. The medium, he believed, flattened developmental distinctions and eroded the cultural function of school as a place for guided maturation and ethical formation.
Then came Amusing Ourselves to Death in 1985, Postman’s most widely read and enduring work. Written during the ascendancy of television and Reagan-era consumer culture, the book argued that television had transformed public discourse into entertainment. It was not merely the content of television that disturbed him, but its form—its bias toward speed, simplification, and emotional stimulation. In such a media environment, serious discussion of politics, education, science, or religion could not survive. News became performance, candidates became celebrities, and education was increasingly judged by its entertainment value. Postman lamented the way Sesame Street, often hailed as educational television, conditioned children to love television itself—not learning, not schools, not the slow, difficult process of study.
As the decade progressed, Postman began articulating a broader cultural critique that culminated in Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology (1992). In this work, he defined technopoly as a society that not only uses technology but is dominated by it—a culture that believes technology is the solution to all problems, and that all values should be reshaped in its image. Postman acknowledged that tools and machines had always altered human life, but in a technopoly, technology becomes self-justifying. It no longer asks what human purpose it serves. Postman noted that schools were being wired with computers, not because it improved learning—there was no solid evidence of that—but because it seemed modern, inevitable, and profitable. His question—“What is the problem to which this is the solution?”—was a challenge not just to education reformers, but to an entire ideology of progress.
In The End of Education (1995), Postman returned to the question that haunted all his work: what is school for? He argued that American education had lost its narrative. Without compelling guiding stories—what he called “gods”—schools could not inspire loyalty, discipline, or moral development. In place of narratives about democracy, stewardship, public participation, and truth-seeking, schools now told the story of market utility. They trained students for jobs, not for life. They emphasized performance metrics over philosophical inquiry, and they treated students as customers in a credential economy. Education, he warned, was becoming just another mass medium, modeled increasingly after television and later the internet, with predictable results: shallowness, fragmentation, and disengagement.
By the time Postman died in 2003, the world he had warned about was rapidly taking shape. Facebook had not yet launched. Smartphones had not yet arrived. Generative AI was decades from the mainstream. But already, education was being reshaped by branding, performance metrics, digital delivery, and venture capital. The university was becoming a platform. The classroom was being converted into content. Students were treated not as citizens in formation, but as users to be optimized. The language of education—once rooted in moral philosophy and civic purpose—had begun to sound more like business strategy. Postman would have heard the rise of terms like “learning outcomes,” “human capital development,” and “scalable solutions” as evidence of a culture that had surrendered judgment to systems, wisdom to code, and meaning to metrics.
Postman’s refusal to embrace digital culture made him easy to ignore in the years that followed. He never gave a TED Talk. He didn’t blog. He didn’t build a brand. He never even used a typewriter. He wrote every word by hand. In a world of media influencers, LinkedIn thought leaders, and edtech evangelists, Postman’s ideas didn’t fit. But the deeper reason we forgot him is more unsettling.
Remembering Postman would require a painful reckoning with how far higher education has drifted from its public mission and democratic roots. It would mean admitting that education has been refashioned not as a sacred civic institution but as a delivery mechanism for marketable credentials. It would mean asking questions we’ve tried hard to bury.
What is higher education for? What kind of people does it produce? Who decides its purpose? What stories do our schools still tell—and whose interests do those stories serve?
Postman would not call for banning screens or abolishing online learning. He was not nostalgic for chalkboards or print for their own sake. But he would demand that we pause, reflect, and resist. He would ask us to think about what kind of citizens our institutions are shaping, and whether the systems we’ve built still serve a human purpose. He would remind us that information is not wisdom, and that no innovation can substitute for meaning.
As the Higher Education Inquirer continues its investigations into the commercialization of academia, the credentialing economy, and the collapse of higher ed’s public trust, we find Postman’s voice echoing—uninvited but indispensable. His critiques were not popular in his time, and they are even less welcome now. But they are truer than ever.
We may have forgotten him. But we are living in the world he tried to warn us about.
Sources
Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner, Teaching as a Subversive Activity (1969)
Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985)
Neil Postman, Technopoly: The Surrender of Culture to Technology (1992)
Neil Postman, The End of Education: Redefining the Value of School (1995)
Join the Contingency Taskforce (CTF) of Higher Ed Labor United (HELU) for an urgent strategy discussion of how we can build campus solidarity among faculty and other higher ed workers, across job ranks, in light of the severe threats we now face. How can we organize broadly to defend the most vulnerable members of our communities? How can we help people overcome isolation and fear, discovering new courage and power by connecting with others? How can we raise up the voices and needs of historically marginalized workers and students within the broader fight to defend higher ed? Register here.
Attacks from the Trump administration are putting international students and workers in our campuses at risk. Mass SEVIS terminations, cancellations of Visa appointments, targeted attacks against Chinese nationals, ICE detentions and threats of raids in our campuses are making our jobs, our livelihoods, and the mission of our institutions unsafe. These actions follow the same pattern: attacking those who are in the most vulnerable positions to create a chilling effect on the rest of us. We demand action from colleges and universities now! Join us on Zoom August 4th at 2pm ET/1pm CT/12pm MT/11am PT to plan next steps and organizing strategies. Register here.
HELU Open House Thursday, August 14 at 6 pm ET/5 pm CT/4 pm MT/3 pm PT
HELU has been organizing since 2021 and is growing. On Thursday, August 14, at 6pm ET/5pm CT/4pm MT/3pm PT we will be hosting another HELU Open House, designed to welcome folks into the national higher ed organizing space and help everyone find a way to plug in. Join HELU on Thursday, August 14th, at 6pm ET/5pm CT/4pm MT/3pm PT. Register here.
On August 20, 2025, HELU is bringing together higher ed library workers across the country to strategize against threats to our livelihoods and profession. We will come together to meet and set our agenda, then we will break into small groups to discuss crises in academic freedom, disparities between library staff categorizations, labor organizing, austerity, and more. Our goal is to develop a platform for library worker protections to advocate for and implement across the country. Register here.
