Generative AI is changing the landscape of higher education, in both good and bad ways (Balch, 2023). In a world where AI skills and fluency will be necessary and marketable, colleges and universities have made efforts to embrace AI in the classroom (e.g., Balch & Blanck, 2025; Butulis, 2023; Parks & Oslick, 2024) and to provide their students with instruction and practice in using AI in productive and ethical ways (e.g., Schoeder, 2024). As the capacity of AI grows to complete increasingly complex tasks, we (as college instructors) may wonder what we can offer our students in the age of AI. Microsoft co-founder Bill Gates recently stated in an interview that advances in AI will mean the humans will no longer be needed “for most things,” and stated that doctors and teachers in particular could be replaced by AI (CNBC, 2025). Microsoft AI CEO Mustafa Suleyman stated the AI, because it will have the ability to complete tasks faster and more reliably than human workers, will change occupations broadly and will have a “hugely destabilizing” impact on the occupational landscape. Suleyman further stated that the fundamental purpose of AI is to be labor replacing (CNBC, 2025).
In higher education, we see our students use AI in many ways, to provide both authorized and unauthorized aid in their completion of assignments. We have crafted AI policies to help our students understand how AI is and is not permitted in our classes, and some of us have devoted energy to try to detect and police AI use in our classes. Given this reality in which AI can provide and synthesize information for and to our students at their requests in seconds, it is not completely paranoid to ask the question, “What can we, as college instructors, offer our students in the age of AI?”
Why College Instructors Matter: A Student’s Perspective
I had a conversation with one of my students recently about this exact question. He visited my office and in the course of our conversation he asked me how I thought I would use AI as a college instructor moving forward. I admit that I did not have the most thoughtful or eloquent answer as I discussed trying to keep up with advances, to recognize the utility of AI, but also to continue to foster critical thinking skills in my students. He told me that he uses ChatGPT all the time (and he is not alone among students in doing so; Kichizo Terry, 2023). He told me how quick and convenient it is. He surprised me, though, by telling me that he uses ChatGPT despite thinking that it would create “brain rot” in him and other students because it was doing their thinking for them. He then gave me the answer about what we can offer our students. He said that college instructors are not needed to give information to their students, at least not the foundations, definitions, etc., that comprise of a lot of traditional lecturing. He said that students could read much of the content off our PowerPoint slides and in the assigned readings without AI. What college instructors are needed for, he said, is to motivate our students to learn. We are needed to inspire students to come to class, to ask questions, to work out the answers with them. We are needed to engage them and to help them develop curiosity and critical thinking skills to offset their potential AI-induced brain rot. He said that students have had access to the information we teach prior to AI. They could always find and read the content on their own. What we can do as instructors is inspire them to learn the content, to ask their own questions, and to perhaps motivate their AI use to serve their own curiosity beyond the conversations in our classes.
Our Role as Instructors in the Age of AI
This is our role as instructors in the age of AI. This was our role as instructors prior to the advent of AI. As instructors, our role is not just to provide access to content. We cannot compete with the other resources available to our students in our fundamental content knowledge. Our role is to excite our students about the content. Our role is to inspire our students to learn that content. Our role is to bring PEACE to our classes so that our students will see the value in our classes and will engage in our classes to deepen their curiosity and their learning. PEACE is an acronym that stands for Preparation, Expertise, Authenticity, Caring, and Engagement (Saucier, 2019; Saucier, 2022; Saucier, Jones, Schiffer, & Renken, 2022). Beginning on the first days of our classes (Saucier, 2020; Saucier, Renken, Fulton, & Schiffer, 2024), we can demonstrate to our students that we have a plan, that we have content knowledge, that we are real living human beings with relatable thoughts and emotions, that we care about our students and their learning, and that we are enthusiastic and invested in the content we will learn with them. We can nurture our students’ intrinsic motivation to learn the content through demonstrations of our own engagement, activating the process of trickle-down engagement by which our own engagement as instructors promotes our students’ engagement and their subsequent learning (Saucier, Miller, Martens, & Jones, 2022). We can cue our engagement in the content by intentionally and explicitly sharing our own enthusiasm about the content and its value and importance (Saucier, Jones, Miller, Schiffer, Mills, & Renken, 2025).
AI is here. It is here to stay. It is a valuable tool that can accomplish important tasks quickly. Our students recognize its value and are already using it in many ways, both in and out of our classes. As college instructors, we are best served in providing our students with something that AI is not yet able to – our authentic investment in the learning, experiences, and success of our students. We have the ability to inspire our students’ wonder and curiosity in ways that will inspire them to be intrinsically motivated to learn and to keep learning. We should embrace this role as we teach in the age of AI.
Donald A. Saucier, Ph.D. (2001, University of Vermont) is a University Distinguished Teaching Scholar and Professor of Psychological Sciences at Kansas State University. Saucier has published more than 100 peer-reviewed journal articles and is a Fellow of the Society for Personality and Social Psychology, the Society for the Psychological Study of Social Issues, the Society for Experimental Social Psychology, and the Midwestern Psychological Association. His awards and honors include the University Distinguished Faculty Award for Mentoring of Undergraduate Students in Research, the Presidential Award for Excellence in Undergraduate Teaching, and the Society for the Psychological Study of Social Issues Teaching Resource Prize. Saucier is also the Faculty Associate Director of the Teaching and Learning Center at Kansas State University and offers a YouTube channel called “Engage the Sage” that describes his teaching philosophy, practices, and experiences.
CNBC (2025). “Bill Gates: Within 10 years, AI will replace many doctors and teachers—humans won’t be needed ‘for most things’.” Published March 26, 2025.
Saucier, D. A., Jones, T. L., Miller, S. S., Schiffer, A. A., Mills, H. D., & Renken, N. D. (2025). Cueing engagement: Applying the trickle-down engagement model to instructors’ in-class behaviors. Teaching of Psychology, 52(1), 45-52.
Saucier, D. A.,Jones, T. L., Schiffer, A. A., & Renken, N. D. (2022). The empathetic course design perspective. Applied Economics Teaching Resources, 4(4), 101-111.
Saucier, D. A., Miller, S. S., Martens, A. L., & Jones, T. L. (2022). Trickle down engagement: Effects of perceived teacher and student engagement on learning outcomes. International Journal of Teaching and Learning in Higher Education, 33(2), 168-179.
The surge for Reform in the recent local elections in England has increased fears in the higher education sector that Labour may feel compelled to focus on driving down immigration at the expense of its other priorities and missions – James Coe has set out the risks of this approach on Wonkhe.
Vice chancellors are understandably frustrated with the public debate on immigration and do not relish the prospect of rehearsing the same political cycle in the wake of the forthcoming white paper on legal migration. All can reel off data point after data point demonstrating the value of international student recruitment to their regions and communities, which according to the most recent London Economics calculations for the academic year 2022–23 brought £41.9bn a year in economic returns to the UK. That data is well supported by polling that suggests the public is generally pretty unfussed about international students compared to other forms of legal migration. The latest insight from British Future on the public’s attitudes to international students found:
International students are seen to boost the UK economy, fill skills gaps, improve local economies and create job opportunities for locals and make cities and towns more vibrant and culturally diverse.
Heads of institution also add that of all the many and varied problems and complaints that arise from engagement with their local communities and regions, international students have never once featured. The problem, they say, is not policy, it is politics. And when politics tilts towards finding any means to drive down overall migration, higher education inevitably finds itself in the position of being collateral damage, despite the economic and reputational harm done – because it’s much easier to reduce student numbers than to tackle some of the more complex and intransigent issues with immigration.
Standing the heat
To give the government its due, the signal it wants to send on student visas is not currently about eroding the UK’s international competitiveness as a destination for study, and much more about reducing the use of that system for purposes for which it was never designed, particularly as a route to claiming asylum. Measures proposed are likely to include additional scrutiny of those entering from Nigeria, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka, an approach that may sit uncomfortably as making broad assumptions about a whole cohort of applicants, but at least has the benefit of being risk-based. That nuance may be lost, however, in how the public conversation plays out both within the UK and in the countries where prospective international students and their governments and media pay close attention to the UK international policy landscape and associated mood music.
The political challenge is not limited to higher education. Recognising the derailing effect of constant short-term reactive announcements in immigration policy, a number of influential think tanks including the Institute for Government, the Institute for Public Policy Research, the Centre for Policy Studies, Onward, and British Future have called on the government to create an annual migration plan. The Institute for Government’s explanation of how it envisages an annual migration plan would work sets out benefits including clarity on overall objectives for the system with the ability to plan ahead, the segmentation of analysis and objectives by route, and the integration of wider government agendas such as those on skills, or foreign policy.
For the higher education sector, an annual planning approach could make a big difference, creating space for differentiated objectives, policy measures and monitoring of student and graduate visas – something that in many ways would be much more meaningful than removing student numbers from overall published net migration figures, or presenting them separately. It could open up a sensible discussion about what data represents a meaningful measure, what should be adopted as a target and what should be monitored. It could also open up space for a more productive conversation between higher education representatives and policymakers focused on making the most of the connections between international education, regional and national skills needs, and workforce planning.
In the weeks and months ahead the government is also expected to publish a refreshed international education strategy, which should give the sector a strong steer about what the government wants to see from international higher education. But it will be critical for that strategy to have a clear line of sight to other government priorities on both the economy and the wider immigration picture, to prevent it being siloed and becoming dispensable.
The fate of the last government’s international education strategy tells an instructive tale about what happens when government is not joined up in its agenda. Three years ago the sector and its champions in Westminster celebrated the achievement of a core objective of that strategy – attracting 600,000 students to the UK – eight years earlier than planned. But that rapid growth provided both unsustainable, as numbers dropped again in response to external shocks, and politically problematic, as students bringing dependents drove up overall numbers and the government responded with another shift in policy. The credibility and longevity of the refreshed strategy will depend on the government’s willingness to back it when the political heat is turned up in other parts of the immigration system.
Quality is our watchword
The higher education sector is justifiably proud of its international offer and keen to work with government on developing a shared plan to make the most of opportunities afforded by bringing students to the UK to study. The focus has to be on quality: attracting well-qualified and capable applicants; offering high-quality courses focused on developing career-relevant skills, particularly where there is strategic alignment with the government’s industrial strategy; and further enhancing the global employability of UK international graduates, whether it’s through securing a good job via the Graduate route, or elsewhere.
The value of international recruitment is not always very tangible to people living in communities in terms of valuable skills and cultural capital – and that breaks down to telling stories in ways that people can connect with. As one Labour Member of Parliament suggested to us, many parts of Britain are in the process of reimagining their collective identities, and part of the job is building a compelling identity connection with the new economy rather than harkening back to an imagined past. That is work that sits somewhat apart from simply explaining the value of international students, but may also turn out to be intimately connected to it.
Higher education institutions can work with employers, the regional and national policymakers concerned with skills, innovation and growth, and in local communities, to further that agenda, but they need the breathing space afforded by policy stability and a clear plan from government they can trust will be sustainable. To create that space, the sector will need to demonstrate that it has a high standard of practice and will not tolerate abuse of the system. “Abuse” is a loaded word; many of the practices that raise alarm are technically legal, but they put the system as a whole in jeopardy. The sector has a great track record on developing a shared standard of practice through instruments like the Agent Quality Framework, but it may also need to collectively think through whose job it is to call out those who fall short of those standards, to avoid the whole sector being tarred with the brush of irresponsible practice.
While the landscape is complicated and at times disheartening, UK higher education can cut through the noise by sticking like glue to its quality message. Many universities are bigger and longer standing than Premier League football clubs – but those bastions of community pride have also had to work through challenges with their places and update their practice as the landscape has shifted. There is an opportunity with the forthcoming white paper and international education strategy to get the government and the sector on the same side when it comes to international higher education. Both parties will need to show willing to hear where the other is coming from to avoid another five years of frustration.
This article is published in association with IDP Education. It draws on a private discussion held with policymakers and heads of institution on the theme of international higher education’s contribution to regional economic growth. The authors would like to thank all those who took part in that discussion.
Sarah Bendall speaks at a HEDx event. Picture: HEDx
In this episode, vice-chancellor of La Trobe University Theo Farrell explains how artificial intelligence (AI) agents can serve the entire lifecycle of a university student.
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Physical security company Genetec’s Sydney office. Picture: Supplied
Western Sydney University (WSU) will send some of its students to intern at a Sydney-based tech company amid continued calls for universities to partner with industry to produce better quality graduates.
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Signage at he University of Sydney campus in Sydney. Picture: Bianca De Marchi
The university arguably leading the sector in its use of artificial intelligence (AI) in assessment tasks has received criticism from some students who have complained they lost marks for not using AI in a test.
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If Lionel Robbins – author of the first major review of higher education in 1964 – could have glimpsed the future, he would no doubt have been pleased with much of what he saw.
Back then, only about five per cent of young people attended university. His ambition was to extend opportunities to all who could benefit from a degree – and much of what he envisioned has come to pass.
Yet after years of expansion, universities are in a funding crisis, students are struggling with costs, many question the benefit of a degree, and both international and domestic student demand is under threat.
This is why I now find myself frequently debating how best to measure the value of higher education – for fear we may lose what we have failed to adequately value.
In research
The value of university research is perhaps the least disputed aspect. The UK, home to just one per cent of the world’s population, produces six per cent of global research output and over 13 per cent of the most highly cited articles, according to Universities UK. Over 60 per cent of this research involves international collaboration, and a third of academics come from abroad.
Whether measured by citations, publications, Nobel Prizes, or the ability to attract international talent, UK research performs strongly and is undeniably valuable. At the Leverhulme Trust, we certainly appreciate this. We receive far more outstanding ideas than we can support, and the research produced is extraordinary.
However, university research is not a standalone activity. In many, though not all, institutions, research and teaching are intertwined – and not only in a financial sense. Research informs teaching, and teaching shapes research.
Connectedness
Without a strong flow of talented students, the future of UK research looks bleak. This is why, with our mission to support research, we invest a lot in doctoral students. Calculations of value (and indeed policy) need to take this connectedness into account – tricky with different government departments responsible for research and teaching, and a one-size-fits-all funding model with cross-subsidy of research built in.
The sector’s status as a major export industry is also undeniable, contributing around £27 billion to national exports. But HE’s contribution to the national accounts does not capture its broader social impact, and I suspect Robbins might have been most heartened by the strides made to widen access.
Putting a value on this is tricky, but opportunities for individuals from working-class backgrounds to attend university have improved dramatically. Despite setbacks in recent years, it is noteworthy that nearly 30 per cent of students eligible for free school meals now progress to higher education. Remarkably, around half do in London. More than 60 per cent of Black students go on to university. The fact that the system is far more open to all students is of great value and worthy of celebrating.
Perceptions
But what about the value for students in this expanded sector? Various metrics have been employed to assess the worth of a degree: student satisfaction surveys, employment rates, job quality and wages. Each of these measures is limited in different ways. However, with taxpayers’ money funding a significant portion of costs, even such imperfect measures of value are necessary and informative.
On average, graduates earn more than their non-graduate peers, but averages are not helpful in understanding the scepticism among some students about the value of their degree. In regions lacking investment, transport and thriving industries, there is insufficient demand for graduate skills. Therefore, many graduates who are unable to relocate do poorly in the labour market.
Earnings and employability, particularly measured early in a graduate’s career, do not, of course, capture the full value of a degree. This is perhaps most obvious for those in jobs with high social value, such as nurses, or those in low-paid but creative jobs.
Demands
Nonetheless, in repeated surveys, students and graduates report concern about their job prospects. Many are struggling to find graduate jobs.
At the same time, there continue to be skill shortages in some fields. Skills England has the difficult task of addressing national skills needs, including any mismatch between supply and demand, and this must include consideration of graduate skills. Helping students make informed choices and ensuring that all degrees, irrespective of discipline, equip them with a broad, adaptable skill set is crucial. But we need to acknowledge that even in tough labour markets, this will still not ensure great jobs for all.
It is in those left behind areas with weak labour markets that assessing the value of universities for their local communities and economies is more difficult but vital. Universities can catalyse local growth – the evidence on agglomeration effects is substantial. Some institutions contribute nationally; others drive local innovation and regeneration.
In deprived areas, universities serve as social anchors and must help retrain adults for emerging jobs. Some universities in struggling regions have played critical roles not only in equipping students with skills for the modern economy but also in providing a sense of community and purpose during periods of industrial decline and economic hardship.
Risks
In the short term, as the UK grapples with its economic challenges and the sector with the funding crisis, we need to be alert to the risks of a shrinking HE system. Loss of teaching capacity will lead to loss of research capacity, and vice versa. If we are to preserve the sector’s strength, we need to recognise the varied roles that institutions play across teaching, research, local development and social mobility.
Looking forward, universities will continue to make a crucial contribution to economic growth by developing the skills of the workforce, but only if accompanied by other types of investment.
Above all, with such a diverse sector, a one-size-fits-all approach cannot work. Policy needs to actively shape the system and enable different universities to focus on where they can add the most value.
You can value anything; someone’s opinion, their feelings, their house, indeed nothing is out of the scope of being valued.
In its broadest philosophical sense, value can be considered as the importance of any object, feeling or an action, prescribed by an individual before, during or after the fact.
If we consult the ancient texts, then Plato offers a binary view of value. There is instrumental value, where something serves as a means to another end, and then there’s intrinsic value, which is just that.
Its value exists by virtue of its own existence, it does not need to enable any other end or objective.
The value of higher education
So, is a degree and any student loan repayments just a means to graduate employment and taxpayer ROI (instrumental value), or is being within university education in of itself valuable (intrinsic)?
I’m going to dodge the question early doors, to be honest, and instead invite discussion alongside a presentation of the student view of all of this. I’m nearing the end of a three-year longitudinal data collection process, whereby I’ve been annually surveying and interviewing the same cohort of undergraduate students from five different HEIs since the end of their first year back in May 2023. This has largely been in service of my part-time PhD, but with a day job in student experience and enhancement there’s some ready employment applicability.
How did we get here?
Please do check out my PhD literature review when it’s published for a fulsome answer, but in summary, a series of neoliberal policy interventions since the 1963 Robbins Report have led us to where we are today. The commodification of HE has crept in over time, and instruments like the NSS launched in 2005 (happy 20th anniversary!) and a new market regulator in 2017 are not insignificant markers of this creep.
“Value for money” as a phrase, for the full villain origin story, appeared in the 1980s via the Local Government and Finance act, defining value for money in terms of 3Es: economy, efficiency and effectiveness. With the creation of the aforementioned HE regulator in 2017, value for money became part of regular policy parlance, given it was a central feature of the OfS’ strategy documentation and purpose. It also inspired people like myself and others to get under the skin of what it actually means in this context.
Right here, right now
By annually surveying and interviewing the same cohort of students across five institutions throughout their university education so far, I’ve found a few threads to pull on that I want to share. The first one is all about time and the temporal location of student value for money perceptions.
Current policy is at odds with how students think about the value of their education. It looks into a hazy future of graduate earnings and loan repayments, with the higher of each being the better for all concerned. From my research, and the addition of a ‘temporal location’ to all my survey interview responses, student perceptions of value for money are located in the present day or recent past. They are not looking to a near-future and PAYE potential; they are looking at what they currently get versus the expectations they had and that is the challenge for institutions to overcome.
Non-users and peer influencers
A second research thread to dangle for readers here is that of non-user bias in student value for money perceptions. From my data, students are more likely to rate a particular aspect of their student experience as negative value for money when they haven’t used it. They don’t opt for neutral ratings; they go for negative as “I don’t know what they do.”
As a counterpoint from my data, those students who do engage are far more likely to rate aspects as good value for money and on the whole are receiving excellent customer service (their words, not mine!). These two things in tandem really are a challenge for institutions, as while engagement leads to positive perceptions, very few will have the resource capacity to cater for all of their students.
The influence of near-peers also can’t be understated. Students in my research will think something is bad value for money if a peer tells them so. This isn’t perhaps a shocking revelation, but what it can create is a barrier to that student ever engaging with that service for themselves, as it didn’t work out for their friend (as is their perception).
How do you deliver timely (and personalised) messages to students in order to make them aware of the variety of things on offer for them? In an NSS context this is vital because students who think over the course of their degree that something hasn’t happened or not been available may well score you as such.
Value for money when money is tight
In my research I ask students about their value for money perceptions of student services and support. For positive perceptions one thing is very apparent in that they are largely driven by a direct engagement with any particular service, and doubly that their expectations of that service were met. They got what they thought they came in for.
If you want students to think you offer value for money, then any investment you have in student support ought to focus on providing an excellent service, and meeting student expectations of that. This sounds simple, and indeed rather basic, but a bad experience leads to that student telling their peers, who may then not engage when they themselves need to access that particular service. In the current era we can’t give every student everything, and nostalgia for a more affluent time won’t help. All you can do is excel at the services you do offer to students and feed that positivity cycle.
Dark and dangerous times lie ahead
The sector is in a tricky financial situation, resources are shrinking, international numbers are in flux and your current and next incoming cohort are going to feed your APP, NSS, and TEF metrics for the remainder of this decade. Looking through a value for money lens, the things that drive positive student perceptions are excellent service levels that align to what they were expecting to happen. Focus on doing that very well is what you have to do when expansion and new projects aren’t an option.
As one last bit of insight from my research, I ask students each year if they feel like they know what their tuition fee is spent on, and the majority say no. I also ask them to rate their overall university experience for value for money, and 44 per cent give it a very good or good rating. That 44 per cent is slightly above what you see in the annual HEPI Student Academic Experience Survey, but for those in my data who do feel like they know where their tuition is spent, this rises significantly to 73 per cent. You don’t need an itemised Council Tax type bill, but something not far off that demonstrates the breadth of fee spend could work wonders.
I swear if I was Danish or Lithuanian or Greek or something I wouldn’t have this problem.
But (no) thanks to the byzantine bureaucrats at the Brexit Broadcasting Corporation, I have somehow been rejected for media accreditation to cover the higher education aspects of the Eurovision Song Contest for the third year in a row.
It’s all the more baffling because not only did I send them some examples of the pieces I’d write (“Why Eurovision’s new voting algorithm provides inspiration for reform of income contingent student loans”, that sort of thing), I even removed my glasses for the pass photo to avoid a repeat of last year’s fracas in the Euroclub — when an ex-pat from Portugal TV demanded an interview with me in the Euroculub because he thought Ken Bruce had come to see Jedward.
Anyway, undeterred I’ll be flying off later to stay in a converted monastery in this year’s host country Switzerland, where I’ll spend the week leading a double life by pretending to be an academic during the day (so I can eat discounted Zuger Kirschtorte in a mensa) and pretending to be a fan of music at night (so I can watch Croatian entry Marko Bošnjak screaming his way through Poison Cake in a badminton arena.)
And so I thought I’d start the week by looking at where we’re at with Europe.
I place a plank on a plank and call it a boat
Back in 2020, then education secretary Gavin Williamson said that Turing, the post-Brexit successor to Erasmus+, would “expand opportunities to study abroad and see more students from all backgrounds benefit from the experience”.
But since then the living allowance rates have already been cut to the bone (£14 per day for Switzerland, which would barely buy you a Schnitzel and chips), and schools and FE colleges have had their funding capped at about 50 placements each.
The UK government can point and has pointed to increased participation in outward mobility — and a much broader range of countries being visited. But we’re missing out on the social and educational benefits of the collapse in EU inward, and under the headlines, in a huge number of cases, the outward are very short trips rather than proper study abroad.
As I often argue on our SU study tours, the danger in that approach is that you barely get beyond noticing that they call a Twix a Raider before you’re on the flight back — when it’s the longer term immersion that can bring deeper rewards.
And it may all well get worse. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a spending review on – and back in March The Timesreported that as well as offering up for the chop universal free meals for infants, funding for free period products and a raft of dance, music and PE schemes, secretary of state Bridget Phillipson has suggested that the Turing scheme could go altogether.
Guess which ones would win out of feeding kids, buying tampons, playing the Trombone and flying to Frankfurt for a fortnight.
That’s life, and what a miracle
The EU might yet push us in the other direction, though. There’s an EU summit on 19th May, and the slipstream of trade deals with the US and India, Keir Starmer has been rolling the pitch on a closer partnership with the EU, arguing that the British public has “moved on” from Brexit and suggesting that alignment over food standards, closer working on law enforcement and a “controlled youth mobility scheme” are all on the cards.
That may not be enough. A large group of member states were already frustrated at what intransigence from the UK in the negotiations, mainly over their demand that students using their mobility rights would get to pay the same tuition fees as UK students if they enrol into a UK university for a year or so.
Now they’re demanding a full re-join of Erasmus+, partly because back when we were still part of the scheme, the UK was the third most popular study destination behind only Spain and Germany.
In the Telegraph, Lord Frost – our lead negotiator over the eventual Brexit deal – seems to think that that would continue:
Erasmus will always be a net cost to the UK because more EU students want to come to Britain than Brits want to study in Europe. That is still the case because we have the best universities and the English language. We don’t need to pay the European Commission to get people to come here.
I might be wrong about this – I often am – but right now given the state of the UK and the way in which cuts are raining down in universities, I’d wager that spending a semester in Badajoz, Białystok or Blagoevgrad or whatever looks infinitely more attractive in 2025 than it did in 2019. They’re all more likely to be teaching in English than they were a decade ago, and there’s a much better chance that your chosen modules will actually run when you get there.
And anyway, what Frosty’s little England analysis also misses are the incalculable soft power and medium-term economic benefits that having a large number of EU students coming to the UK for a year offers. People routinely wax on about their Erasmus experience as life-changing – building friendships and connections that later end up as the sort of trading partnerships that Starmer is supposed to be rebuilding.
How much time do we have left together
It’s also worth bearing in mind how Erasmus+ has been changing. As well as the traditional study placements that most will understand, there’s a new European Student Card Initiative (ESCI) which will streamline access to libraries, transport, and cultural activities, a new app offering access to learning agreements, destination information and a digital version of the student card. The European Solidarity Corps offers young people the chance to volunteer or work in projects that benefit communities across Europe, and Blended Intensive Programmes (BIPs) that combine physical and virtual learning, and International Credit Mobility options that extend beyond Europe.
There’s also the DiscoverEU initiative, which provides free rail passes to encourage cultural exploration and connection, new Centres of Vocational Excellence (CoVEs) to drive collaboration between vocational education providers, businesses, and research centres, a Green Erasmus+ initiative, which prioritises projects with a positive environmental impact and offers support for green travel options, and Erasmus+ Teacher Academies — which are supporting the professional development of staff and promoting innovative teaching practice across Europe.
Given some of the problems with skills and teaching innovation in the system back home, and the weird reality of an impending credit-based student finance system with barely and progress on credit transfer, add all of that up and any sensible Department for Education would be as desperate to get us back into Erasmus+ and wider EU projects as DSIT was to get us back into Horizon.
Interestingly, Eurovision host country Switzerland – which has of course never been a member of the EU – used to take part in Erasmus+, but was chucked out in 2014 following a referendum that voted to limit mass immigration.
That meant that like us, Swiss universities could no longer participate fully in student exchanges and had to negotiate individual bilateral agreements with each partner university, creating no end of administrative burdens.
SEMP – The Swiss Programme for Erasmus+ – does enable exchange activities, but universities taking part have to finance 40 per cent of costs, with the remaining 60 per cent covered by the federal government.
But since 2023, Switzerland has pursued a new package with the EU, keen to re-establish relations in trade, transport, education, and research. The resultant December 2024 deal granted access to Horizon Europe, Euratom and the Digital Europe programmes earlier this year – and it’s set return to Erasmus+ in 2027 subject to parliamentary approval and a likely referendum in 2026.
(They love their referendums in Switzerland. There was even one to approve the expenditure on Eurovision in the Basel-Stadt canton – the socially conservative EDU called it a “propaganda event” labelling 2024’s event as a “celebration of evil”, while the populist Swiss People’s Party said that the money would be better donated to those seriously affected by Summer 2024’s Swiss storms than “wasted on this embarrassing rainbow event”. United by Music and all that – Yes won by 66.5 per cent to No’s 33.5 per cent.)
Sadly, with UK universities keen to see any pennies left spent on their excel sheets, and higher education stuck in an always-distracted schools department, it may not happen — and if it does, it’ll be down to EU negotiators clocking that Starmer needs a deal that can help neutralise growing youth support for populism back home.
LOS ANGELES — Scattered among the shrubs on the southern border lie belongings migrants left behind — toothbrushes, water bottles, baseball caps. Some of the owners forged north, crossing the boundary undetected. Others were apprehended or succumbed to dehydration, drowning or one of the unimaginable dangers in the harsh desert that straddles Mexico and the United States.
Angélica Reyes survived. At nine months old, she made the journey that could have claimed her life just as it started.
Since 1994, approximately 10,000 migrants have died in the borderlands. That year, the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) took effect. Designed to open trade between the United States, Canada and Mexico, the now-defunct policy has faced criticism for depressing Mexican wages. Their income flatlining, Reyes said, her parents left the city of Guadalajara, in the western part of Mexico, and headed with her to Los Angeles. They did not have authorization to live in the United States.
Reyes is now 32, though she remembers knowing she was undocumented as early as first grade.
“My mom was very cognizant of the discrimination and the obstacles that I would face throughout my life,” she said. “She made it clear, like, ‘You can’t mess up. You need to be twice as good to get half of the respect. You need to really prove that you earned your spot.’”
To do that, Reyes earned the good grades that set her up to become a history teacher for the Los Angeles Unified School District. She is one of about 15,000 teachers — and among the more than 835,000 undocumented people — who have received temporary permission to live, work and study in the United States through an Obama-era program known as Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). Women represent over half of DACA recipients, whose future in this country has been under threat by legal challenges to the program’s existence and the anti-immigration agenda of President Donald Trump.
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If DACA ends, the goal of ongoing litigation, 700 education personnel, including teachers and teacher aides, would lose their jobs each month for two years as their work permits are revoked, according to FWD.us, an immigration reform organization. In California, the state with the most DACA recipients, 200 educators would lose their jobs monthly. In Texas, 100 would.
DACA-recipient teachers relate firsthand to the estimated 620,000 undocumented K-1 2 students, who confide in them about their experiences in immigrant families. They show youth that regardless of legal status, it’s possible to attain one’s professional goals. Many of these teachers are also activists, fighting for their students, themselves and other marginalized people. They see themselves as assets to schools.
“My immigration status inspires both my undocumented and documented students because they know all the obstacles that are faced by folks with my immigration status can be overcome,” Reyes said. “They know that if I could do it, that’s something that they could do as well.”
Without undocumented teachers, educator shortages across states could worsen. California has spent about $1.6 billion since the 2016-17 school year to tackle its teacher shortage. Still, the state issued 11 percent fewer teaching credentials between the 2021-22 and 2022-23 school years. Last year, it enacted legislation to eliminate barriers to entry, dropping a standardized test teaching candidates had to pass to demonstrate competence in math, reading and writing. But since undocumented immigrants aren’t widely perceived to be career professionals, the fact that schoolchildren nationwide depend on them has received scant attention in the broader immigration debate.
Maria Miranda, elementary vice president of the United Teachers Los Angeles (UTLA) labor union, said undocumented teachers “bring a different perspective to the table, a different skill set.”
Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers, the nation’s second largest teacher labor union, said DACA recipients in classrooms have strengthened the United States.
“They are role models, like all teachers, and should be treated as such, but instead, they are made to feel uncertain and fearful as their protections are challenged in court and as the Trump administration promotes mass deportations, even from sensitive locations like schools that were once considered off limits,” Weingarten said. “Immigration reform can’t be used as an excuse to rip teachers out of classrooms, where they are so desperately needed.”
Reyes at 1 year old with her father. (Angelica Reyes)
When Reyes was about to register for the SAT during her senior year in high school, one misinformed guidance counselor asked her why she planned to take the college entrance exam, insisting that higher education was off limits to undocumented students.
“I was devastated. It broke my heart,” Reyes said. “I remember crying and telling my mom, ‘I worked hard, for what?’”
Since 2001, however, California has extended access to in-state college tuition to undocumented students who have lived there long term. Unaware of this law and under the assumption that her counselor was correct, Reyes missed the deadline for the SAT and for the application to University of California schools, so she enrolled in a community college she could afford, a common path for many undocumented immigrants.
Then, in 2011, a state law was enacted that made her cry tears of gratitude: the California DREAM Act. The policy allows undocumented immigrants who entered the United States before they were 16 to obtain financial aid if they’ve earned qualifying credits at California schools. These young people have been nicknamed Dreamers after the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors (DREAM) Act, a 2001 federal bill that would have given them legal status had it succeeded.
Reyes said that when she decided to apply to the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), a community college counselor took in her light brown skin and wavy black mane and without so much as seeing the 4.0 GPA in her transcript, told her to apply somewhere less competitive.
“I’m a competitive student!” Reyes recalled balking. “She opened my chart and she was, like, ‘Oh, you actually are.’ Her tune changed so quickly. It was really infuriating because if I had believed her, like many students believe counselors, I would have not gone to UCLA.”
In college, Reyes had to make a choice about her career path. Her research project on youth activism at Abraham Lincoln High School, where she graduated in 2010, had drawn her to education. “I realized that’s where I was needed,” she said.
It was at Lincoln High in March 1968 that students spearheaded the protests known as the Chicano Blowouts or East Los Angeles Walkouts. With signs stating “School Not Prison” and “We Are Not Dirty Mexicans,” almost 15,000 youth from Lincoln and other schools in historically Mexican-American East L.A. walked out of classes for a week to protest their substandard education.
Chicano student walkouts in front of Abraham Lincoln High School in East Los Angeles during the 1968 blowouts. (LAPL)
Back then, students could be paddled for speaking Spanish, and with few advanced courses at Eastside schools, they were routinely steered to vocational classes like auto shop. These inequities contributed to a 60 percent dropout rate in the area. Jailed for their activism against these circumstances, the teenagers garnered community support that ushered in sweeping policy changes — bilingual instruction, ethnic studies and more Latino teachers.
Today, the carnicerías, bungalow homes and palm trees along North Broadway Avenue, leading to 93 acres of green hills, offer no hint of the past tumult, but a mural at Lincoln commemorates the walkouts of nearly six decades ago.
Through her research, which also explored youth activism of the 2010s, Reyes learned that contemporary Lincoln High students continued to have unmet needs, such as support applying for college financial aid or accessing legal services as members of immigrant households. So when Lincoln High teachers asked if she wanted to develop a space to serve students, Reyes threw herself into the effort. The Paula Crisostomo Dream Center — named after a lead activist of the Chicano Blowouts and the inspiration for the 2006 film “Walkout” — opened at Lincoln in 2015.
“We established programming for immigrant students, for immigrant parents. We did immigrant and educational history,” Reyes said. “It’s still a resource for students at Lincoln, and we’ve expanded it to several other schools.”
Working at the Dream Center for three years convinced her that teaching was the best way to reach undocumented and marginalized youth. Rather than dismiss them, as she had been dismissed by school counselors, she would inspire students to excel academically regardless of legal status. In 2012, four years before she graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s degree in sociology and six years before she earned her master’s in education from the university, DACA enabled undocumented students like herself to become career professionals.
Reyes surrounded by family at her high school graduation. (Angelica Reyes)
It’s complicated: Those two words capture Reyes’ feelings about DACA. Although the program allowed her to teach, she has long viewed it as flawed, exploitative and a “constant reminder” she isn’t “fully accepted.”
DACA stems from the activism of undocumented college students frustrated that the DREAM Act failed and that their immigration status would limit their potential, said Jennifer R. Nájera, author of “Learning to Lead: Undocumented Students Mobilizing Education.” Fighting for immigrant rights, they found a purpose.
Like the DREAM Act, DACA was reserved for young people who came to the United States as children and didn’t have criminal histories. “They had to graduate from high school or college or go to the military, show ‘good moral character,’” said Nájera, an associate professor in the Department of Ethnic Studies at the University of California, Riverside. Instead of citizenship, Obama’s executive order “provided temporary relief from deportation, a two-year relief specifically, that could be renewed, and a work permit, which was a big deal.”
While DACA recipients cherished their professional opportunities, some contended that the policy cast them as second-class citizens, Nájera said.
That includes Reyes.
“I knew it was a Band-Aid,” she said. “In fact, when I first started teaching, my DACA expired because of an issue with the application. They had asked me if I was in a gang, and apparently I didn’t check off the X hard enough, so I wasn’t hired at the beginning of the year. I remember feeling this immense frustration.”
Los Angeles Unified employs about 300 DACA-recipient school personnel, according to Miranda of the UTLA labor union. As Reyes’ teaching career started, DACA weathered the first of multiple legal challenges. Trump rescinded the program during his first term, a move the Supreme Court later blocked; at the time, Reyes told her students about possibly losing her job. Since then, she has endured several other threats to DACA , though she’s now pained to tell her students that the program isn’t accepting new applicants.
DACA, she said, must be replaced with a sustainable alternative.
In a December interview, Trump said, “We’re going to have to do something with” DACA recipients. “They were brought into this country many years ago” and “in many cases, they’ve become successful.”
But that sympathy has been absent from his immigration policies since he resumed office. He has issued an executive order prohibiting undocumented college students from receiving in-state tuition. He has also lifted restrictions on immigration enforcement in “sensitive locations” such as churches, hospitals and schools, prompting parents nationwide to keep kids out of class.
A protester waves the Mexican flag during a demonstration for immigration rights outside Los Angeles City Hall on February 5, 2025. (Qian Weizhong/Getty Images)
“A lot of times, the children are U.S. citizens and the parents are concerned,” Reyes said. “But I’ve had students who shared that their parents are U.S. citizens, and they’re still scared because they know that U.S. citizens are also caught up in these raids. So, this isn’t about criminality. It’s about the targeting of Brown folks.”
Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents and other federal authorities reportedly detained or deported at least 10 U.S. citizens, including children, in the first 100 days of Trump’s second term.
Last month, the California state superintendent presented Senate Bill 48 to limit ICE appearances at schools as absences have spiked — and schools could lose millions of dollars since their funding is tied to average daily student attendance. About half of California children belong to families that include at least one immigrant parent, while one in five live in mixed-status families with at least one undocumented parent.
“It’s very taxing emotionally for our members and our students,” Miranda said of ICE enforcement. “We have students at the elementary level who are terrified of seeing anyone in uniform. Some of them are so young that they don’t know the difference between the police and immigration. It’s a very scary moment.”
When Trump targeted DACA during his first term, Reyes warned in a Los Angeles Times opinion piece that disbanding the program could upend public education. But now she says her students deserve more than DACA’s “breadcrumbs.”
“We need to fight for something new because my kids want to be chefs and doctors and lawyers, but they’re being held back by their immigration status,” she said. “It’s excruciating in two ways: One, I want my students to have the opportunities that they deserve to serve the community. And, two, I don’t know when I’m going to be taken from them because of my own uncertainty.”
For now, she knows that her presence makes a difference at her high school. Los Angeles Unified has an immigrant student body of about 30,000 students, according to UTLA. Of those, one in four is undocumented. After Reyes shared her immigration status with students during a recent lunchtime conversation, she said a ninth grader confessed that she planned to quit school because she, too, is undocumented. Learning Reyes managed to become a teacher made the girl reconsider.
“It was really beautiful to see that, like it reignited her hope to have a bright future,” Reyes said.
Although the risks of revealing her status frighten her, her conscience compels her to, Reyes said. She quoted Mexican Revolution leader Emiliano Zapata: “It’s better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.”
Staying silent as the president attacks immigrants would make it hard for Reyes to face the youth in her life — her son, especially.
Reyes after receiving her master’s degree in education from UCLA. (Angelica Reyes)
Whenever a state turned red on Election Night, Nathan Reyes felt his anxiety shoot up. Still, he held out hope Kamala Harris would win. Then the Electoral College math made it plain: Donald Trump would be president again.
Although he’s a U.S. citizen, Nathan wondered what lay ahead for his undocumented relatives under a president promising mass deportations.
“I feel worried for them because if they get deported, what am I going to do?” he asked. “Where am I going to stay?”
So, he began to plan. He and his family would “have to pick our poison” — stay in a country hostile to their presence or self-deport together to Mexico regardless of citizenship status.
That her son, with a pile of ringlets and a round cherubic face, was even considering these options stunned Reyes. Nathan is in seventh grade.
“I was like, ‘Oh, my God, this kid is 12,’” Angélica Reyes said. “Why is he talking about this?’”
Rummaging through a bin of childhood possessions in her mother’s bedroom last year, Reyes found a poem she wrote in fourth grade about her fear of police. Her parents were street food vendors, an occupation California criminalized until 2018, so Reyes realized growing up that one brush with the law could have seen them deported.
Just as she did not have a childhood free of deportation fears, neither has her son.
Nathan, now 13, is hardly the only youth pondering the possibility of a relative’s departure, according to Lisette Sanchez, a psychologist in Long Beach, California. She said children are leaving school with “Know Your Rights” cards advising them of their civil liberties during ICE encounters, but they may not understand the information.
“They’re just feeling fear,” she said. “They’re being told something’s gonna happen. So mental health wise, you’re looking at chronic anxiety. You’re looking at hypervigilance.”
Angélica Reyes and her son Nathan Reyes in front of Abraham Lincoln High School in East Los Angeles, California, on February 9, 2025. (Zaydee Sanchez/The 19th)
To gain some sense of control, they may overconsume social media, leading to racing thoughts, rapid heart rate and sleeping difficulties.
“It’s this chronic nonstop anxiety because the state of uncertainty feels never-ending, and in many ways, it is not ending, right?” Sanchez said. “There’s different news every day.”
By speaking openly with children, parents can help them better manage stress, she said. Teachers, if they’re permitted, can broach the topic of immigration. Nathan appreciated how his Spanish teacher led a class discussion after the election.
“Sharing your feelings and emotions and finding that a lot of other people are feeling very similar can bring comfort to you,” he said.
Reyes gave birth to her son while she was in college and briefly wed to his father. She applied for legal status as an immediate family member of a U.S. citizen, her spouse. But years passed before the federal government responded to her request, she said. By then, her marriage had ended.
“I don’t think people understand how long the path to citizenship can be, what it looks like, how costly and time-intensive it is,” Sanchez said.
Reyes, who has not remarried, said being undocumented seeps into every aspect of her life, including romantic relationships. She feels obligated to tell prospective partners about her status.
“I remember to always be upfront, like, ‘Hey, I’m undocumented. I don’t want you to think I’m going to use you for papers,’” she said.
Reyes lives in one of the country’s 4.7 million mixed-status households, which include undocumented individuals and people with legal status or U.S. citizenship. If she gets deported, she has arranged for others to care for her son.
Her sister, two years younger, is a U.S. citizen. Asked if she resents that twist of fate, Reyes said, “I’m happy that she gets to be safe. I think that there’s a lot of pain and guilt for her.”
Her sister realizes, Reyes said, that her entire family could be taken away.
Reyes and her son Nathan doing a science experiment when he was little. (Angelica Reyes)
Should she be forced out of the only country she considers home, Reyes wants her son to know this: “I would never willingly leave you. I am dedicated to you. I love you, and I will always be working as hard as possible to get back to you.”
For Nathan, it is mind-boggling that anyone would want his mother out. He doesn’t understand why politicians demonize immigrants. Trump launched his first presidential campaign calling them criminals and continues to malign them.
“My mom has done a lot of good for her community,” Nathan said. “She has organized a finders keepers closet where people who don’t have some resources they need, like canned food or clothes, can take what they need.”
Just as Nathan defends her honor, Reyes vouches for her parents. Her mother is now a nail technician and her father is a food vendor. Growing up, she said, she watched them visit the sick, volunteer at churches and fundraise for the poor.
“Whenever they saw a need, they stepped up, and they didn’t wait for someone else to help,” she said.
She’s hurt when people sympathize with Dreamers while disparaging their parents, that the immigration system paints family members as saints or sinners. The DACA recipients she’s researched feel similarly, Nájera said.
“Many of the students that I interviewed were always talking about their parents,” Nájera said. “They did not want their stories to be divorced from their parents and their family stories. These families, they’re units.”
But the Dream Act caused a migrant generational divide, insinuating that those who arrived in this country as children deserve citizenship, while their parents and others who arrived as adults do not, Nájera said.
Angélica Reyes helped paint the red and yellow skulls on the mural across the street from Abraham Lincoln High School in East Los Angeles, where she graduated. (Zaydee Sanchez/The 19th)
Migration often occurs out of necessity. For example, after NAFTA took effect in 1994, U.S. agricultural exports flooded Mexico, displacing workers, according to Edward Alden, a distinguished visiting professor in the College of Business and Economics at Western Washington University. Four years earlier, over 4 million Mexican migrants were in the United States, a figure that ballooned to nearly 13 million — around 9 percent of Mexico’s population — by 2008.
Reyes said NAFTA crushed the bakery business her father’s side of the family owned because it could not compete with the U.S. companies that swooped in. Her parents migrated north to earn higher wages.
Today, economic instability is but one of the reasons that motivate migrants.
“A lot of the Venezuelans are leaving Venezuela because it’s a violent, dangerous place, and the government has destroyed the economy in different ways,” Alden said. “Same thing out of Central America. These are people who aren’t necessarily leaving for economic reasons. They’re doing it for personal safety reasons.”
Reyes said she has Central American students who fled horrors. She wants them to feel safe in the United States, and the fact Los Angeles Unified has pledged not to cooperate with immigration officials voluntarily provides some comfort. Run by a formerly undocumented superintendent, the sanctuary districtblocked Homeland Security agents from entering two schools in April.
The fear of raids on campuses has traumatized her students, Reyes said. “It’s so difficult to convince my students that they are worthy of love and that they’re worthy of respect and that they deserve civil rights.”
It is equally difficult to keep advocating for herself, she said. But as the threat of deportation looms, she has no choice but to keep fighting.
“It’s hard to know that I can’t earn citizenship and that I can’t give my kid stability or safety,” she said. “I feel like if I could earn it, I would have three citizenships. I would have put in the work.”
Dr. Vicki Patterson DavidsonCongresswoman Jasmine Crockett (D-Texas) delivered a moving speech at Tougaloo College’s commencement ceremony earlier this month. While listening to her speech, I remembered the three times someone called me the ‘N’ word – once as an elementary school student, once as a high school student, and once as a sophomore at Tougaloo College. Each time, the racial epithet was uttered by a white male.
My family was one of the first to integrate the North Pike School District in Pike County, Mississippi in the 1970s – fifteen years after Brown v. Board of Education in 1954. I knew it was ignorance that drove others to call me the ‘N’ word during the 1980s and 1990s.
My daughter experienced a similar remark while growing up in central Mississippi in the mid-2000s. A classmate told her during recess that he “did not play with Black girls.” Heartbroken, I shared two quotes and a song with her later that evening. “Nothing in the whole world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity,” by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and one by Oprah Winfrey, a native Mississippian, who told Wellesley College graduates in 1997 to “turn your wounds into wisdom.”
That evening we listened to “I’m Here” from the Broadway musical, The Color Purple – a song which resonates with so many Black girls and women across our nation. “I’m Here” would later be performed at the 2010 Kennedy Center Honors celebrating Winfrey. My daughter decided to dress like Winfrey during Black History Month that school year. My daughter had turned her wounds into wisdom.
Mirroring the courage and strength of Fannie Lou Hamer, a prominent activist who frequently visited Tougaloo College during the Civil Rights Movement, Congresswoman Crockett addressed the state of American civil rights and liberties under the Trump administration. Crockett’s commencement speech was not disturbing. Her speech, full of wisdom, rang with relevance as she stood near the historic steps of the Woodworth Chapel below the steeple bell. The cowardly threats and reactions which followed are what continue to ring with prejudice, hatred, and ignorance nearly fifty-four years after Hamer delivered her famous “Is It Too Late?” speech at Tougaloo in the summer of 1971.
Known for its educational excellence and activism in higher education, Tougaloo College is no stranger to controversy. A private, historically Black liberal arts college that has hosted and graduated prominent civil rights leaders and politicians for years, Tougaloo is the same institution that educates and prepares future physicians, scientists, lawyers, educators, and researchers who serve Mississippi and the global community.
Tougaloo College students, faculty, staff, alumni, friends, and community stand together in wisdom without fear. We are not invisible. We are not silent. We are here.
Dr. Vicki Patterson Davidson is an alumna and an Assistant Professor of Education and Chair of the Department of Education at Tougaloo College.
