The National Institutes of Health is accelerating a Biden-era plan to make its research findings freely and quickly available to the public, the agency announced Wednesday.
The 2024 Public Access Policy was set to take effect Dec. 31, 2025, but will now take effect July 1 of this year. It updates the 2008 Public Access Policy, which allowed for a 12-month delay before research articles were required to be made publicly available. The 2024 policy removed the embargo period so that researchers, students and members of the public have rapid access to these findings, according to the announcement.
NIH director Jay Bhattacharya, who took over last month, said the move is aimed at continuing “to promote maximum transparency” and rebuilding public confidence in scientists, which has waned in recent years.
“Earlier implementation of the Public Access Policy will help increase public confidence in the research we fund while also ensuring that the investments made by taxpayers produce replicable, reproducible, and generalizable results that benefit all Americans,” Bhattacharya said in the memo. “Providing speedy public access to NIH-funded results is just one of the ways we are working to earn back the trust of the American people.”
Although the scientific research community is supportive of the policy itself, some are calling on the NIH to reinstate the original implementation date to give researchers time to effectively comply with this and other new agency regulations.
“This new effective date will impose extra burdens on researchers and their institutions to meet the deadline,” Matt Owens, president of COGR, which represents research institutions, said in a statement Wednesday. “Ironically, at the same time NIH is accelerating implementation of this policy, the agency is adding new burdensome certification and financial reporting requirements for grant recipients. This runs counter to the administration’s efforts to reduce regulations.”
Responding to Harvard University’s defiance of the coercive and illegal demands from the Trump administration, some major donors have recently urged the university to make accommodations rather than fight. A few have withheld large gifts over the last year and a half.
Holding degrees from two of Harvard’s least wealthy schools (Divinity and Education), I have made small annual donations to my relatively impecunious alma maters for 45 years, and I offer these considerations to weigh against those of the big donors who have generally graduated from Harvard’s wealthiest, so-called major schools.
Harvard’s resistance to authoritarian overreach bolsters the entire system of U.S. higher education, which came to be regarded as the best in the world only in the 1970s, after a century of slow development. Harvard’s defiance of unlawful authoritarianism inspires universities throughout the world.
This controversy is therefore not just about Harvard, but all of higher education everywhere. If Harvard caves, then no university will dare to defy governmental overreach. If Harvard resists, then others will be inspired to do so and shamed if they do not.
The urging by major donors to strike a deal with the Trump administration may result from feeling that Harvard’s small and secretive governing board, the Corporation, has, in recent months, not listened to them and ignored “the rightward shift of the country” that prompted Trump’s demands. (Although Harvard’s “major” and wealthiest professional schools—business, law and medicine—still graduate leading financiers on Wall Street and conservative justices of the Supreme Court, notwithstanding claims about the university’s “sins” of left-wing radicalism.)
In any case, the implied threat of major donors to withhold donations is transactional, just like the demands of the Trump administration. Thus, Harvard is caught between two transactional parties. Is the defiance of coercive and illegal overreach worth the possible loss in large gifts?
And the loss could be considerable. Over the last century, the rule in higher education fundraising is that 90 percent of gifts come from the top 10 percent of donors. Big donors count. Little ones scarcely, it seems.
But there are financial counterpoints.
By adjusting the spending rule for its endowment income and by floating bonds and loans, Harvard does have the resources to supplant lost federal income until its legal challenges are litigated, notwithstanding the prospect of further demands by the Trump administration.
Indeed, the annual investment income of large endowments vastly exceeds annual fundraising. As a result, wealthy universities were already shifting their focus from “gifts to growth” of investment yield by the beginning of the 21st century. Fundraising became less important than investing endowment.
Furthermore, major alumni donors, who might fear alienating the Trump administration by donating to Harvard, could easily make donations anonymously, which has long been a tradition in higher education.
Finally, and most importantly, Harvard’s defiance has already inspired support from many alumni who may now do more, counterbalancing the support of transactional big donors who withdraw.
I know that some little donors, like me, have not included Harvard in their estate plans precisely because Harvard has seemed so rich and invulnerable. As former president Drew Gilpin Faust once observed, Harvard’s commitment to its endowment could make the university “as close to immortal as any earthly institution might be.”
Now we see that Harvard needs the support of all of its alumni in these perilous times, not only for the sake of alma mater, but all of higher education.
Bruce A. Kimball, emeritus professor at the Ohio State University, is a former Guggenheim Fellow and co-author with Sarah M. Iler of Wealth, Price and Cost in American Higher Education: A Brief History (Johns Hopkins, 2023) and co-author with Daniel R. Coquillette of the two-volume history of Harvard Law School (Harvard 2015, 2020).
A large number of college students experience housing insecurity or homelessness, and finding suitable accommodations can be a challenge, particularly for those who attend colleges and universities that do not provide on-campus housing.
The fall 2024 Student Financial Wellness Survey by Trellis Strategies found that 43 percent of all respondents experienced housing insecurity and 14 percent were homeless during the prior 12 months. Among two-year college respondents, 46 percent were housing insecure and 16 percent experienced homelessness in the previous year.
Community colleges often lack the resources to directly address housing insecurity, so they rely on outside partnerships or housing assistance programs to accommodate students. For example, LaGuardia Community College partners with Airbnb to offer vouchers for short-term housing support for students. Tacoma Community College and the Tacoma Housing Authority co-created the College Housing Assistance Program, which subsidized housing costs for students experiencing homelessness until 2022.
These programs often come with red tape that can make it difficult for a student to enroll in the program; for example, GPA or credit requirements can push vulnerable students out if the institution doesn’t think they’re making adequate progress.
Alena A. Hairston, a professor at Fresno City College and doctoral student at Alliant International University, conducted a qualitative research project that evaluated student experience and engagement with housing assistance programs. Hairston found that while many students did not meet benchmarks for student success in the classroom, the experience contributed to their improved self-actualization, which can be a meaningful metric in student development.
The background: To ensure students are persisting and making progress toward a degree, college-led assistance programs often require learners to meet baseline educational checkpoints, including being enrolled, achieving a certain GPA or meeting regularly with a staff member. Community partners may institute their own requirements, including drug- and alcohol-free living or payment of a deposit.
If students don’t meet these requirements, they’re dropped, often without another option to continue their housing, which can be detrimental to their health and well-being. While failing to meet requirements can be a sign of student disinterest or lack of appreciation for the offerings, Hairston views stable housing as a foundational piece in student achievement and tied to the mission of community colleges.
“If a student shows up to attend [and] to be a part of the collegiate process, that says desire, right?” Hairston said. “And the only requirement for admission [at community colleges] is a desire to learn, so we need to go with that as our mandate [to serve students].”
Hairston wanted to understand how students accessed resources and the impact it had on their psychosocial development.
The study: Hairston interviewed nine students who participated in housing assistance programs, led either by the college or an off-campus entity, in 2021. Students were between the ages of 18 and 47 and represented a variety of racial, ethnic and gender categories. All learners were enrolled at least part-time at a community college.
Most respondents said they learned about housing programs through specific contacts, such as academic counselors for special programs including Extended Opportunity Programs, TRIO and the Puente Project, while others used the internet or other partners.
While students appreciated the services, they faced logistical challenges that made the experience frustrating, such as a lack of notification or timely communication from staff members. One was in an unsafe area and roomed with an individual who used methamphetamine.
Students said program requirements to maintain academic standing or health conditions (such as sobriety) were perceived as helpful, but in practice sometimes harmful and led to loss of housing. “As soon as you drop [below] a 2.0 or you drop nine units, they literally evict you,” one student shared. “Then you have an eviction on your record as well.”
A few students said they gained personal life skills or were motivated to continue working toward academic and career goals. Others felt their citizenship status or racial and ethnic backgrounds impeded their housing placements or ability to access resources.
In addition to finding secure housing, most participants utilized other campus, public and private services to pay for additional resources, including furniture, phone bills, laptops, bikes and mental health support.
The COVID-19 pandemic created additional challenges for participants, such as job losses, the decline of support networks, moves, educational disruption and relapses into substance use.
In conversations, students commented on how housing assistance motivated them to stay enrolled and allowed them to prioritize other elements of their lives, including mental health care and caregiving responsibilities.
“The program [helped me with] a lot of psychological things like digging into yourself and figuring out the root problems that keep causing me to drink,” a study participant shared. “So I got to unburden a lot of my little demons.”
Lessons learned: Based on her conversations with students, Hairston recommends policymakers tie self-actualization and personal growth to efficacy metrics to understand the value of these programs and improve students’ self-reflection on their progress and achievement.
One possibility would be to measure student success on a yearlong basis, rather than term by term. Some learners returning to higher education may need counseling or struggle with the rigor of their coursework, resulting in poor academic performance in their first term back.
Instead of weighing GPA or credits completed as the most important factors for student eligibility, Hairston advocates for a greater emphasis on self-efficacy and personal growth, perhaps delivered through a self-diagnostic at the start and end of the term or a regular self-study to track learning and the challenging circumstances they encountered. This also creates opportunities for checking in on students during the term to ensure that they’re not falling behind without support, Hairston said.
Program participants should also be paired with counselors who are trained in trauma-informed care and academic counseling, Hairston said. Ensuring a welcoming atmosphere for services, program information and resources can reduce barriers to access and promote thriving.
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A 2023 global survey of more than 900 faculty members found that 33 percent are “often or always” physically exhausted, 38 percent are emotionally exhausted and 40 percent are just worn-out. The constant pressure to conduct research, secure grants and fellowships, attend conferences, and publish or perish is only part of the story. There is, additionally, the immense responsibility to teach and mentor students who are facing their own mental health crises.
In the inescapable race to beat the tenure clock and, once tenured, move to the next rung of the ladder while staying relevant and recognizable in our fields, faculty members need to take a pause. We must slow down to strengthen our mental health, ensure student success and produce meaningful scholarship.
Some might ask how slowing down will help us keep up. How will we survive in academia if we are slow to publish in high-impact journals, or present our research in international forums, or participate in faculty development opportunities, or mentor multiple students, or be on several significant boards and committees? We will, if we do not equate slowness with being lazy or unproductive and, instead, understand it as the pace and the process that allows us to function and create deliberately, contemplatively, while resisting exhaustion and burnout.
In my international conflict management classroom at Kennesaw State University, I encourage my students—future peacemakers—to think about slow peace. In my research on feminist agency in violent peripheral geographies, I deliberate on how, in zones of ongoing conflict, active resistance must (and does) surface in response to direct and immediate violence. But this only addresses the symptoms; in the urgency of the moment, what is not—and cannot—be addressed is the structural violence that results from a lack of cultivating peace as a way of life. Only by slowing down to reflect on, and gradually dismantle, the tools that perpetuate cultures and structures of violence can we enable enduring peace, ensure the well-being of the communities in conflict and reduce the recurrence of everyday violence.
As I move deeper into decolonial feminist peace in my scholarship, teaching and practice, I recognize the university depends on some of the same tools of violence and patriarchal control that are used to perpetuate the colonial and postcolonial conflicts that we study in my classroom. For example, the “fast-paced, metric-oriented neoliberal university” makes constant demands on faculty members’ time and effort, ensuring we are exhausted and preoccupied with “keeping up.” To meet its numerical expectations, we often sacrifice our “intellectual growth and personal freedom”; we rarely pause to reflect on the quality and real-world impact of our output or the toll it takes on us. Exhausted people rarely have the time or energy for community and rest, which are essential not only for individual well-being but also for collective resistance to slow violence.
Similarly, colonial capitalists initiated my ancestors in Assam, in the peripheral northeast region of India, into the plantation (tea) and extraction (coal, oil) economies by weaponizing productivity and exhaustion. They denigrated our traditional lahe lahe way of life that was based on living gently, slowly and in organic harmony with the planet and its people. The nontribal people of Assam embraced capitalism and the culture of “hard work” and exhaustion. They also aligned with the colonizers to designate the tribal peasants who stayed connected with their ancestral lands and refused to work in the plantations as “lazy natives.”
This process of ethnic fragmentation started by the colonizers was subsequently exploited by the post-/neocolonial Indian state to diffuse and dissipate resistance against itself as it continued to extract the communal resources of the ethnic people of Assam and its neighboring northeastern states while ignoring their customary laws and political rights and governing this peripheralized region through securitization and militarization. The historical, horizontal conflicts between the many communities of the Northeast undermined their necessary, vertical resistance against the Indian state. Meanwhile, on the Indian mainland, Assam is still derogatorily referred to as “the lahe lahe land” and people from the entire Northeast region are subjected to discrimination and racist violence.
Building solidarities across marginalized entities alone can successfully challenge larger structures of oppression—whether racism, colonial violence or academic capitalism—that continue to thrive while we remain divided. In the conflict zone I call home, I advocate for addressing the slow and sustained violence that historically eroded indigenous ways of peaceful coexistence between communities. I propose ways of building peace by reintroducing customary nonviolent structures and cultures into everyday practices of communities, allowing community members to reconnect with each other and with nature and the environment.
For example, traditional slow crafts like weaving organic cotton and silk fabrics involved the entire community while benefiting individual members and protecting the planet. Reviving these practices would slowly, but radically, disrupt the cycle and progression of violence and societal fragmentation.
Within the academy, too, we can practice slow peace. My individual resistance began when I started questioning my sense of guilt and self-doubt about being unproductive or “slow.” Just as my precolonial ancestors did, I too realized that my self-worth is not tied to my productivity; I slowed down. This deepened my scholarship and made it more deliberate as I connected it to my embodied, intergenerational history. My approach to scholarship also grew more intentional as I re-examined its real-world impact.
At the same time, I recalled that my lahe lahe culture valued rest and resting in community through finding connections with people, engaging in communal joy and being in nature. I moved away from commodified self-care products and apps and took more mindful breaths during my morning yoga. Now I am more energized in the classroom, where I practice laughter and joy with my students while encouraging them to build an empathetic and mutually caring classroom culture. They bring genuine engagement and produce strong work that they take ownership of. I have also added nature walks with emotional support coworkers, aka new friends, to my routine. Our conversations have led to research collaborations and several creative engagements with the local community.
If, as Audre Lorde says, self-care is “warfare,” it is no less a war to attempt to build a community of care involving colleagues and students in institutions and settings that are engineered to facilitate isolation by emphasizing increasingly demanding personal achievements tied to hierarchies of power and privilege. As I continue to deliberately and strategically work on decolonizing my academic praxis, I am convinced that within the academy and outside—where our knowledge-making has consequences—the quicker we begin slowing down, the sooner we will reap the benefits of the lahe lahe life.
Uddipana Goswami is author of Conflict and Reconciliation: The Politics of Ethnicity in Assam (Routledge 2014) and Gendering Peace in Violent Peripheries: Marginality, Masculinity and Feminist Agency (Routledge 2023). Gendering Peace earned an honorable mention in the International Studies Association’s Peace Section’s 2025 Best Global South Scholar Book Award. She teaches at the School of Conflict Management, Peacebuilding and Development at Kennesaw State University.
With research contracts, cost recovery and student financial aid totaling billions of dollars on the line, many universities have called upon powerhouse external lobbying firms to defend against federal funding cuts and make the case for the public good that flows from higher education. Engaging external government relations experts can bring important perspective and leverage in this critical period, but this approach may not be scalable or sustainable across the nearly 550 research universities in large and small communities across the country.
Fortunately, campuses have their own powerful asset for advocacy: alumni. Graduates know firsthand the benefits of higher education in their lives, professions and communities, and they can also give valuable feedback as campuses work to meet the challenges of this moment and become even better. The National Survey of College Graduates estimates that 72 million individuals hold at least a bachelor’s degree. Engaged well, alumni can be a force multiplier.
Alumni often get attention in their role as donors. They will receive, on average, more than 90 email messages from their alma mater this year, many asking them to reflect on the value of their college experience and pay it forward. The most generous donors will be celebrated at events or visited personally by campus leaders. Millions and sometimes billions of dollars will be raised to advance campus missions.
As generous as alumni donors may be, the effectiveness of their philanthropic support is linked to the even greater investments states and the federal government make in higher education. University leaders in fundraising and beyond have an obligation to provide alumni with candid information about the potential impacts of looming generational policy and funding shifts, along with opportunities to support their campus as advocates.
In a crisis, information and attention necessarily flow first to on-campus constituents. Crisis communications and management plans may initially overlook alumni or underestimate the compelling role that they can play with both external and internal stakeholders. While most alumni are not on the campus, they are of the campus in deep and meaningful ways. And, unlike the handful of ultrawealthy alumni who have weighed in to the detriment of their Ivy League campuses, a broad group of alumni can bring practical wisdom and a voice of reason to challenging issues.
Campus leaders now preparing for a long period of disruption should assess alumni engagement as part of this planning and gather their teams to consider:
How might alumni and development staff work with strategic communications, government relations staff and academic leaders to shape university messaging and advocacy?
What facts about policy and funding challenges do alumni need to understand in a media environment filled with misinformation?
How might alumni perspectives inform campus discourse about challenges to the institution’s values and academic freedom?
How might existing alumni programming provide opportunities for information-sharing between campus leaders, academic leaders and alumni?
How are campuses acknowledging and supporting alumni who are directly affected by changes in the federal workforce and economic disruption?
This is a critical time for campus leaders to build bridges. Alumni can be a huge asset in this work. As degree holders, donors, professionals and citizens, engaged alumni know the specific value of their alma mater and of higher education broadly. They have stakes, authenticity and social capital, and they deserve the opportunity to add their voices.
Lisa Akchin,senior counsel at RW Jones Agency and founder of On Purpose LLC, previously served as associate vice president for engagement and chief marketing officer at University of Maryland Baltimore County.
Earlier this year, HEPI, with support from global information analytics company Elsevier, hosted a roundtable dinner on how UK research and innovation should support the government’s five missions.
This blog considers some of the themes that emerged from that discussion.
The Labour government has made clear that five missions drive its decisions on policy. These are: kickstarting economic growth, an NHS fit for the future, safer streets, breaking down barriers to opportunity and making Britain a clean energy superpower. In October 2024, it announced a £25 million R&D Missions Programme to address specific challenges involved in meeting these missions and to help turn scientific advances into real-world benefits.
How well do the UK’s research strengths already map to the missions, and how much capacity exists to do more? For global information analytics company Elsevier, this was worth interrogating. It set to work, drawing on its Scopus database of research publications and the Overton index of policy documents, clustering papers into topics and using artificial intelligence and large language models to link them to the missions.
This allowed it to track what share of UK research carried out between 2019 and 2023 relates to the missions the government has identified and how this compares to other policy areas, including how it has varied over time. Elsevier has also been able to make comparisons with the research strengths of other countries in these areas. The process involved developing a methodology that matched huge datasets to the narrative national goals set out in Labour’s manifesto.
The role of R&D in supporting government priorities was the subject of a roundtable dinner, informed by this analysis, hosted by HEPI in February and attended by policymakers and senior leaders from across the higher education sector. The discussion was held under the Chatham House rule, by which speakers express views on the understanding that they will be unattributed.
Useful information
Sarah Main, vice-president, academic and government relations at Elsevier, told participants that the aim of the analysis was to be useful, for the research community and policymakers, in making the case for continued investment in R&D in the lead up to a tight spending review.
The work shows that a significant share of the UK’s published research relates to government priorities: for example, 11% relates to growth and around 35% to its aims around health. By making comparisons with research outputs in other countries, it also identifies possible future partnerships and collaborations.
But she pointed out that research output is only one way in which research and innovation supports the government’s missions; people, skills and infrastructure also play a part. Further work, she said, could help identify the key people, institutions and areas in which the UK has relevant strengths, as well as suggest emerging questions and themes.
Many of those attending the roundtable felt that it was useful to see how far universities are producing research that supports government priorities and to be able to demonstrate this to policymakers – and the Treasury. They particularly welcomed the chance to identify where relevant research was taking place internationally.
It was suggested that the tool would be useful in maintaining a dialogue between research and government priorities, identifying quickly the kind of work taking place and who was doing it and helping to build communities around research areas.
Potential problems
But there were reservations about aligning research too closely with specific policy areas. The fear was that what could be lost in the process was curiosity-driven work, which was a feature of the UK system and which could lead to valuable nuggets of knowledge that could go on to solve world problems. Another concern was that innovation strengths did not always translate into strengths around delivery.
Some questioned how much could be achieved without investment in supporting a healthy research environment for the long term. The recent decision to cut overseas aid in favour of increasing the defence budget was an example of how quickly government policies could change.
Research priorities could change too. One participant in the roundtable said it would be important not to ignore findings from further back in the past or for policymakers to forget the broader research agenda in favour of the latest exciting paper.
‘I look at the missions and I think the reason these are possible is because of R&D that was being done 25 years ago,’ said one delegate, who was worried that concentrating on where the government is looking now could be at the expense of developing capability in the missions of future generations and working out what these would be – learning to live with robots perhaps or addressing chronic loneliness.
Focusing exclusively on missions also ignores how ready the research community is for a shock like Covid or another existential challenge. And what about some of the nuances of where the UK’s research strengths are located, such as working with other disciplines, and how research feeds into growth in more general ways than through specific papers? Relevant skills training and universities’ educational role are also important.
Talking politics
Then, how much weight should be given to a government’s stated priorities? If last July’s election had elected a party with the mission to make Britain great again, would the research community want to find out how far the work it was doing supported it?
Also, how far are the government’s missions likely to persist, with Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin doing everything they can to undermine them, as one delegate argued? Far more likely to determine whether the government gets re-elected will be progress on growth and healthcare, which have been consistent public concerns for decades. Even if, as Elsevier has found, 35% of research in the UK relates to health, ministers may respond by asking why, in that case, people are no healthier.
Some felt that universities needed to be more political and to understand better the channels by which research becomes policy and how to negotiate them. This could involve researchers considering the attitudes of the public as well as those of politicians.
The government may also need to give universities a clearer idea of what good looks like when it comes to universities, such as whether the amount of research related to healthcare that Elsevier has identified is good enough, where the government wants universities to be focusing and what resources will be available to them.
But spending too much time dabbling in politics could be dangerous. Instead, suggested one participant, universities should be engaging “at scale” with all sectors and everyone involved in the political process, giving advice to whoever needs it.
The public purse
Universities should also avoid dwelling on their own self-interest. One delegate noted that finding out how far they contribute to the government’s missions would be of little use if the sector collapses. But another suggested that focusing too closely on missions could encourage universities merely to highlight relevant work they are already doing and then make another request for money.
It is certainly the case that there will be plenty of other calls on the public purse over the next few months and years. In this context, it could be useful for the sector to stress the shorter-term wins relevant to the missions that management science or operational research can offer, as well as long-term gains such as new drugs. One delegate suggested that it would be useful to have clearer identification of where research has directly led to spin-out companies and economic growth.
The roundtable concluded that universities are clearly relevant to addressing the government’s missions, that they are already influencing policy and that the methodology under discussion could help inform strategy. But it recognised that outcomes – such as reduced crime and an efficient NHS – are what matter most to the public and these therefore should be the priority.
RIVER FOREST, Illinois — Cuando Jacqueline Quintero empezó a explorar opciones para ir a la universidad cuando se graduara de secundaria, se dio cuenta de algo que muchas parecían tener en común.
“No me gusta decirlo, pero todo el mundo parecía tan blanco”, dijo Quintero, cuyos padres llegaron a Estados Unidos desde México. “Simplemente no sentía que yo pertenecía allí”.
Hasta que fue a una recepción para estudiantes admitidos en la Dominican University, cerca de donde creció en los suburbios del oeste de Chicago. Entre las cosas que la hicieron decidirse casi de inmediato a ir allí: Se proporcionaba información a las familias tanto en inglés como en español.
“Por fin mis padres pudieron hacer preguntas” en su lengua materna, dice Quintero, que ahora cursa el penúltimo año de la carrera de Derecho. “Estaba acostumbrada a traducirles toda mi vida. Me puse a llorar, literalmente”.
Este aparentemente pequeño detalle es uno de los muchos que han ayudado a impulsar la matrícula de Dominican en casi un 25 por ciento desde 2021, un período durante el cual las instituciones comparables han luchado por atraer estudiantes y cuando el número de jóvenes de 18 años está a punto de comenzar un largo declive.
Esto se debe a que la universidad ha aprovechado un grupo de clientes potenciales que está creciendo: Los graduados hispanos como Quintero.
Históricamente, a las universidades y escuelas superiores no les ha ido bien a la hora de reclutar estudiantes hispanos. Ahora su propio éxito puede depender en gran medida de ello.
“La demografía de nuestro país está cambiando, y la enseñanza superior tiene que adaptarse”, afirma Glena Temple, presidenta de Dominican.
O, como dijo Quintero, sonriendo: “Ahora nos necesitan”.
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Jacqueline Quintero, hija de inmigrantes mexicanos, estudia en la Dominican University y tiene previsto estudiar Derecho. “Ahora nos necesitan”, dice refiriéndose a las universidades que reclutan estudiantes hispanos como ella. Credit: Camilla Forte/The Hechinger Report
Mientras que se prevé que en 2041 las cifras de graduados en enseñanza secundaria blancos, negros y asiáticos disminuyan en un 26%, un 22% y un 10%, respectivamente, se prevé que el número de graduados hispanos en enseñanza secundaria durante ese periodo aumente un 16%, según la Western Interstate Commission for Higher Education, que realiza el seguimiento de estos datos.
Según el Centro Nacional de Estadísticas Educativas, casi 1 de cada 3 alumnos desde preescolar hasta 12º curso es hispano. Esta cifra es superior a la de menos de 1 de cada 4 de hace una década. La proporción de alumnos hispanos en las escuelas públicas es aún mayor en algunos estados, como California (56%), Texas (53%) y Florida (38%).
Esto hace que estos jóvenes – a menudo hijos o nietos de inmigrantes, o inmigrantes ellos mismos – adquieran una nueva importancia para las universidades, que históricamente no han conseguido atraer a tantos estudiantes hispanos como a gente de otros orígenes raciales.
Sin embargo, en un momento en que la educación superior necesita que aumente, la proporción de estudiantes hispanos que van a la universidad ha ido disminuyendo. Invertir esa tendencia es todo un reto, por muchas razones – el elevado costo, la necesidad de encontrar un trabajo inmediatamente después de la secundaria, el hecho de que muchos proceden de familias sin experiencia universitaria a las que pedir consejo – agravadas por los ataques cada vez más agresivos a los programas de diversidad de los campus, que podrían dificultar aún más la captación y el apoyo a estos estudiantes.
En el pasado, según Deborah Santiago, directora ejecutiva de la organización de defensa de los hispanos Excelencia in Education, las instituciones de enseñanza superior “podían alcanzar sus cifras [de matriculación] sin implicar a esta población. Eso ya no es así”.
Ese gran número de estudiantes hispanos que se acercan a la edad universitaria “es para lo que tenemos que prepararnos como instituciones de enseñanza superior y para satisfacer las necesidades de nuestras comunidades”, afirma Greg Mosier, presidente del Kansas City Kansas Community College, que ahora se anuncia en periódicos en español y en la radio en español.
“A medida que los baby boomers se jubilan, la población joven es mucho menor y tiene que sostener a una población de más edad”, afirma Michael Collins, vicepresidente del Centro para la Equidad Económica Racial de la organización sin fines de lucro Jobs for the Future.
El Centro para la Liberación Cultural de la Dominican University, cerca de Chicago. La sala es un lugar de estudio, conversación y encuentro para estudiantes de todas las procedencias. Credit: Camilla Forte/The Hechinger Report
A menos que las universidades construyan redes más amplias, dijo Collins – incluyendo la ayuda para que más hispanoamericanos puedan acceder a empleos mejor pagados – “nuestra calidad de vida será menor. Es un panorama bastante desolador”.
Incluso los más pequeños esfuerzos por matricular y apoyar a los estudiantes hispanos se complican aún más con la retirada de los programas de diversidad y las ayudas económicas a los estudiantes indocumentados, muchos de ellos hispanos.
Aunque la base jurídica de esa decisión ha sido ampliamente cuestionada, tiene en vilo a las instituciones de enseñanza superior. Incluso muchos colegios y universidades que los activistas elogiaron por impulsar la matriculación de hispanos no quisieron hablar de ello.
Algunos expertos dicen que la mayoría de los programas para reclutar y apoyar a los estudiantes hispanos no se verían afectados por las campañas anti DEI, ya que se ofrecen a cualquiera que los necesite. “Estas cosas funcionan para todos los estudiantes”, dijo Anne-Marie Núñez, directora ejecutiva del Instituto para el Éxito de los Estudiantes Hispanos de la Universidad de Texas en El Paso.
La proporción de graduados de secundaria hispanos que van directamente a la universidad es inferior a la de sus compañeros blancos, y está disminuyendo: del 70% al 58% entre 2012 y 2022. Ese es el último periodo para el que se dispone de cifras del Centro Nacional de Estadísticas Educativas. Los estudiantes hispanos que se matriculan en la universidad también la abandonan en mayor proporción.
Hay razones económicas y culturales para ello.
Según la Oficina del Censo, el ingreso medio anual de las familias hispanas es más de un 25% inferior al de las familias blancas, lo que significa que la universidad puede parecer fuera de su alcance. El Center for Law and Social Policy ha calculado que más de tres cuartas partes de los estudiantes hispanos que acuden incluso a colegios comunitarios de bajo coste tienen necesidades financieras no cubiertas.
Esto empuja a muchos directamente al mercado laboral. Muchos estudiantes universitarios hispanos trabajan al menos a tiempo parcial mientras estudian, algo que, según las investigaciones, reduce la probabilidad de graduarse.
Cuando Eddie Rivera terminó la secundaria en Carolina del Norte, “la universidad no era realmente una opción. Mi consejero no me ayudó. Sólo seguí lo que mi cultura hispana nos dice, que es ir a trabajar”.
Cuando Eddie Rivera terminó la secundaria en Carolina del Norte, “sólo seguí lo que mi cultura hispana nos dice, que es ir a trabajar”. Animado por sus compañeros, acabó matriculándose en la Dominican University. Credit: Camilla Forte/The Hechinger Report
Rivera, que tiene el estatus DACA, o Acción Diferida para los Llegados en la Infancia, trabajó en una residencia de ancianos, en un parque de trampolines cubierto y en un hospital durante la pandemia, donde sus colegas le animaron a ir a la universidad. Con la ayuda de un programa de becas para estudiantes indocumentados, también terminó en Dominican, donde a sus 28 años es estudiante de tercer año y se especializa en relaciones internacionales y diplomacia, con planes de obtener una maestría en política exterior y seguridad nacional.
Dominican, una pequeña universidad católica que data de 1922 y que antes se llamaba Rosary College, tiene una historia de educación de hijos de inmigrantes, del norte y centro de Europa, inicialmente.
Hoy, de las farolas del campus de 30 acres cuelgan pancartas con fotos de antiguos alumnos hispanos de éxito, y una banda de mariachis dirige las celebraciones del Día de los Muertos.
Las visitas a la institución se realizan en inglés y español, se ofrece a los estudiantes trabajo en el campus y el personal ayuda a familias enteras a superar crisis sanitarias, de vivienda y financieras. Dominican añadió un campus satélite en otoño en el barrio mexicano-americano de Pilsen, en Chicago, que ofrece titulaciones de dos años orientadas al empleo. Todos los estudiantes de la universidad reciben ayuda financiera, según datos federales.
“Todos los días me encuentro con un miembro del personal o un profesor que me pregunta qué me pasa en la vida y cómo pueden ayudarme”, dice Aldo Cervantes, estudiante de tercer año de Negocios con especialización en Contabilidad, que quiere dedicarse a la banca o a los recursos humanos.
También hay una Academia Familiar para que los padres, abuelos, hermanos y primos de los estudiantes conozcan los recursos de la universidad; como incentivo, las familias que acudan a cinco sesiones obtienen créditos para que su estudiante realice un curso de verano sin costo alguno.
Un armario de ropa en la Dominican University para estudiantes que necesitan trajes de negocios para entrevistas de trabajo. Uno de los factores que frenan la matriculación de hispanos en la universidad es la menor renta media de los hogares. Credit: Camilla Forte/The Hechinger Report
“Cuando observamos a la población latina que va a la universidad, no se trata de una elección individual”, afirma Gabe Lara, Vicepresidente de Éxito y Compromiso Estudiantil, utilizando el término preferido por la universidad para referirse a las personas de ascendencia latinoamericana. “Es una elección familiar”.
Estas y otras medidas han contribuido a más que duplicar la proporción de estudiantes hispanos en los últimos 10 años, hasta casi el 70% de los 2.570 estudiantes de Dominican, según cifras facilitadas por la universidad.
Genaro Balcazar dirige las estrategias de matriculación y marketing como director de operaciones de la universidad, tiene una forma pragmátuca de ver la situación.
“Atendemos las necesidades de los alumnos no por quiénes son”, dijo Balcázar, “sino porque necesitan la ayuda”.
Este artículo sobre la enseñanza superior y el reclutamiento de alumnos hispanos fue producido por The Hechinger Report, una organización de noticias independiente sin fines de lucro centrada en la desigualdad y la innovación en la educación. Suscríbete a nuestro boletín. Escucha nuestro podcast sobre educación.
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Two years ago, I was invited to deliver a course at a prestigious management school abroad. Though hesitant at first, I accepted the opportunity to do what turned out to be one of my most rewarding teaching experiences. I taught a group of students unlike any I had taught over the span of my long teaching experience in diverse settings and institutions.
The students portrayed an exceptional level of behavioral engagement. This surprised me since I had never seen them before, and I was new to them. I had not had the chance to establish any social or emotional bonds with them. I could see them taking their own notes during the lessons, never asking me for my slides, a common practice among other students I have taught. They would work on the assigned tasks in class and use their time efficiently. Assigned homework was always completed without me having to send them reminders. When I gave a break during a session, many would open books and read until the class resumed.
It happened that my class was interrupted by the New Year’s one-day holiday. I asked the class after the holiday to think of a new year’s resolution, and to my surprise, a handful of students said that they intended to increase the number of books they would read in the coming year.
At the end of my visit, I left those students and went back home to my regular educational setting. I found myself reflecting on my own recent experience. In my setting, most teachers I work with grapple with the challenge of engaging their students in their learning; thus, they work hard on providing students with incentives and support to stay on tasks, contribute to their groups, and complete their assigned work. I know that many of those teachers designed very good learning experiences and tried to accommodate their students’ needs, yet they did not observe the engagement they hoped for.
This contrast raised several questions:
What are we missing as educators when it comes to student engagement?
Are the challenges related to the curriculum, the school, or the larger context extending beyond the school to the home and society?
Is it the collective perception toward education a factor in fostering student engagement? Have educators and parents been able to help students understand the bigger meaning behind their school experiences and tasks?
Have we been able to help them make the connection between these tasks and their reality?
Has the system taken these into considerations when designing the educational curricula?
Talking about relating learning experiences to real life brings to my attention how this group of young management students integrated their academic knowledge with their online profiles. Many connected with me on LinkedIn, where I have been seeing them share deep reflections and insights from their studies. Although they are still in their early years of their university studies, they express their opinions and stand as though they are experts in their field. They report on activities they engage in related to what they study and reflect on what they encounter and experience. They provide bulleted lists of advice and practice. Reading their posts, I see these students already can foretell their placement in life after they graduate and are acting accordingly. This could be a reason why they embrace schoolwork and engage with it willingly.
I end with two incidents from my visit that resonate with me. For one of the assessments, I conducted an online, objective-type quiz, consisting mainly of multiple-choice questions. The class speed in which the students submitted their responses led me to think they had worked collectively on a WhatsApp group. When I raised this concern, one student who seemed offended assured me that they would not do such a thing. This claim was validated when I graded the final exam, a rigorous three-hour subjective type of exam. The class average was an impressive A.
The second incident was when I asked the class for feedback on my teaching, as I usually do towards the end of a semester. One student advised me: “Next time you teach here, be tougher on students. We are used to working hard, and we can handle it.” I had never heard of anything similar from a student; on the contrary I have students who often request reduced workload and extended deadlines.
Reflecting on this experience, I believe the following can be considered as main takeaways for educators:
Design meaningful learning experiences: The type of learning experiences we design for our students should relate to their realities and be meaningful and to where the students see themselves later in life
Recognize the multifaceted nature of engagement: Student engagement is not necessarily the product of the teacher’s efforts but a myriad of aspects including the curriculum, perceptions, school and culture.
Allow students’ voices: Listening to the students’ voices provides us with a lot of tips on how we can improve the learning experiences for them and attend to what they think they need help with.
Foster student accountability: There are ways to help students be accountable to their own actions and to behave responsibly towards their learning
Cultivate academic integrity: academic integrity can be achieved effortlessly when students are interested in what they do and understand the positive impact of their learning on their lives.
Amal Farhat has experience in teaching and instructional coaching at K-12 schools and higher education. She has worked in the private and public sectors. Her interests mainly pertain to the development of professional learning communities through positive, constructive interactions among stakeholders of an institution. In higher education, she taught in the Faculty of Letters and Humanities and Faculty of Education. Additionally, she works as a teaching and learning specialist supporting faculty members with their teaching practices. Amal holds a PhD in education from the Doctoral Institute at Lebanese University, a counseling in pedagogy diploma from St. Joseph University, and is CAEL (Certificate in Advanced Education Leadership) certified from Harvard Graduate School of Education.
Over the past few decades, there has been – as many an academic will attest – a significant shift in the extent to which parents are involved in their children’s higher education.
Parents now often attend university open days with their children, with some institutions laying on separate talks and events for them. Moreover, despite the introduction of tuition fees and maintenance loans, many parents end up making some financial contribution to their child’s higher education.
To date, however, we know relatively little about parents’ perspectives on their involvement, nor about the extent to which they support their children in non-financial ways once they have embarked on their higher education journey. Research that I have recently completed (with Julia Cook and Dan Woodman) on parents of Australian higher education students may be transferable to the UK, given the similarities between the two higher education systems and social structures more generally.
Drawing on data from the longitudinal Life Patterns project, which has been following the lives of young Australians since the 1990s, we asked parents with children in higher education – or shortly to enrol – a series of questions about the support, if any, they were offering their children, as well as whether they felt parents should be supporting their children in any particular ways. Their responses were fascinating.
Independence and intervention
Nearly all of those we spoke to believed that higher education was a space in which young people learned how to be independent – and it was this that helped to distinguish it from school. University was typically positioned as a space where their children would “fend for themselves”, engage in “adult learning”, and be accountable for their own actions.
However, while there was a strong rhetorical commitment to higher education as a time of achieving independence, when describing the detail of their parenting practices our participants outlined a wide range of ways in which they had been closely involved in the lives of their student children (or thought a parent should be), providing high levels of practical and emotional support.
All of those we interviewed were either already providing financial support to their offspring at university, or they had clear plans to do so when their children enrolled. In addition, they either had already spent, or thought it was desirable to spend, considerable time with their children supporting them through any problems they encountered during their studies. This differed between participants but often included “coaching” approaches, to help the child identify the root cause of problems; strong encouragement to take advantage of the various services available on campus – sometimes with detailed advice about how best to access these; and, in a significant number of cases, direct involvement in academic matters, including paying for private tutors.
The following excerpts from our interviews are illustrative:
Yeah, we would help [daughter] through that and … make a timetable for her for the week on how she could help with the study. …. So she’s not thinking it’s all got to be done in a short amount of time.
The other thing we could do is investigate some tutoring if that’s required.
None of our interviewees remarked on the apparent paradox between the rhetorical foregrounding of “independence”, on the one hand, and the numerous examples of parental intervention, on the other. This is perhaps unsurprising. It does, however, raise the interesting question of why these parents continued to see university as a space of independence given the various forms of support they were giving their child (or thought should be given).
Defining distances
In answering this question, we can first point to the dominance of discourses about independence. Despite the well-documented changes to young people’s lives over recent decades and the associated later age at which the traditional markers of adulthood are on average now reached, independence as an achievement of early adulthood retains considerable discursive power. Admitting that one’s child is “semi-dependent”, or similar, while at university may thus be viewed as admitting or that an adult child is struggling and even that one has “failed” as a parent.
Relatedly, it appears that there continues to be some social opprobrium associated with acknowledging that one intervenes in the life of one’s son or daughter once they reach the age for higher education. This is alluded to in the following comment from one of our interviewees:
Kids get older, they’re more mature than you think. You don’t want to be seen as mothering your children, I don’t want to be that umbrella parent that’s hanging over them all the time saying ‘do go do this’ or ‘you should do that’.
Both structural factors (such as having to pay tuition fees, and the high cost of university housing) and cultural influences (such as the expectation that parents take responsibility for monitoring their child’s educational progress) likely encourage parents to continue to intervene quite significantly in the lives of their student-children. Yet it appears that these participants were nevertheless keen to discursively distance themselves from such behaviours.
These findings provide new insights into how parenting practices are shifting over time. They may also have broader political and policy implications. Our sample was broadly middle class and we would speculate that the interventions outlined above may not be available to all students – particularly those from families with no prior experience of higher education. Universities thus need to be aware that some students may be being supported in their academic endeavours by parents, and this may serve to exacerbate social inequalities. Can more support be offered within universities to those without such familial resources?
With respect to more general policy debates, for those who believe that the student loan should be increased (or grants restored) to cover costs currently often picked up by parents, arguments may be harder to make if the actual degree of parental contribution is masked by the discourse of “independence”. There may therefore be some advantage to being more open about the degree of parental support, with respect to finances at least.
This is Mason Science College, founded in 1875 by Sir Josiah Mason. It was one of the institutions which formed the nucleus of the University of Birmingham in 1900 (the other was Queen’s College, founded in 1825 as the Birmingham Medical School). The buildings were used by the university until the 1960s but are now gone.
Mason had made his fortune in manufacturing – mostly steel pens, but other products too.
The card was posted on 17 April 1905 in Bournemouth to an address in Doncaster.
Thanks for letter and will answer in a day or so. Went to hear Sousa’s band today. Have you heard him? I trust you are stronger dear. Love in haste …
John Philip Sousa and his band were touring Britain in 1905, but I can’t pin down where they played on Monday 17 April.
Apologies for the brevity of this post – I’m under the cosh this week, with work and other stuff, so the postcard blog is short and sweet. Hopefully back to normal next week!
