Tag: administrator

  • Ask the Administrator: Advertising

    Ask the Administrator: Advertising

    An occasional correspondent writes,

    I am curious about your take on the amount of money that institutions are spending on marketing …

    According to this story, those four schools spent $676 million on marketing in one fiscal year.

    If private companies like Coke and Pepsi want to engage in an advertising arms race (a.k.a. the Cola Wars), that is fine because it is private money. If the shareholders don’t like it, they can vote out the board. However, a lot of this marketing money is from public dollars like Pell Grants, federal loans, GI Bill, etc. Public dollars should not be spent on an advertising arms race. Elizabeth Warren was looking into this in the context of OPMs.

    It seems like a huge transfer of wealth from taxpayers to Big Tech. The fact that adjuncts who teach online get paid so little is what really gets me upset about this.

    No one can unilaterally disarm in an arms race, but it seems like a condition of receiving federal aid could be that no more than X percent of your budget is marketing. This would mean some type of audits by government agencies, which are never fun, and the definition of “marketing” could be disputed. Schools might try to get around it with “content marketing” and other shenanigans, but it still seems like it’s worth a shot.

    So many thoughts …

    For obvious reasons, I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on my old constitutional law coursework. As long as the Supreme Court holds that money is speech—and the Supreme Court retains enough legitimacy to be taken seriously—I foresee major free speech issues around restricting advertising. If I were a betting man, I’d bet that the court’s legitimacy will have a shorter shelf life than its view on the “marketplace of ideas,” given how aggressively it’s shedding any pretense of respect for precedent.

    In the ’90s, a book called The Supreme Court and the Attitudinal Model (affectionately nicknamed SCAM) by Jeffrey Siegel and Harold Spaeth made some waves in political science circles for its claim that justices reasoned backward from the outcome they wanted. At the time, that was considered a shocking claim to make. Now it’s almost banal.

    And advertising generally isn’t what it used to be. Growing up, in the age of the media monoculture, ads tended to be corny. The best ones were either disarmingly sweet (Mean Joe Greene’s Coke ad, for example) or funny. They had to be, because they were expensive to air and the three networks had broad audiences. That led to inanity—anyone else remember the talking loaves of bread?—but the range of things that got advertised was relatively narrow and mostly inoffensive.

    Now it’s normal to see medicines advertised with machine-gun fire recitations of alarming side effects (“may cause fatal events”) and legal or legal-ish sports betting apps during games. In that context, ads for colleges are almost a relief, even if they sometimes seem excessive. At the last minor league baseball game I attended, three of the outfield billboards were for local colleges. I don’t remember that from earlier years.

    While we’re at it, separating institutional marketing from sports budgets at the Division I level would be a real challenge. How many students learn about universities from football? I’m guessing more than most of us would like to admit.

    That said, marketing isn’t cheap, and the money comes from somewhere.

    In the context of higher ed, separating public money from private money isn’t always clean. When I was at DeVry, the leadership there used to distinguish the taxpaying sector (meaning themselves) from the tax-consuming sector, which included private institutions. That was a bit convenient, as it left out the enormous reliance of most for-profits on federal and state financial aid, but there was a grain of truth to it. Nonprofit private colleges and universities benefit from tax exemptions and student financial aid, as well as (sometimes) research funding. In some states, they even receive direct operating aid. Higher ed is an ecosystem, rather than a system, but the entire ecosystem relies on public money in one form or another. In other words, assuming any actual respect for the law, it’s conceptually possible to attach limits on marketing expenses to the receipt of federal dollars.

    The underlying issue the correspondent raises is a serious one. Why do we force public or publicly funded institutions to compete with each other? Why do we underfund them to the point that they have to treat students as means rather than ends? The need for tuition dollars is behind the marketing; what if tuition were less relevant?

    Colleges have relatively fixed costs and relatively variable ones. In my more perfect world, public funding would cover the fixed costs and tuition could cover the variable ones. Instead, public funding falls well short of fixed costs, so they have to use variable revenues to cover fixed costs. That means scrambling to appease both prospective students and prospective funders, whether philanthropic or public. Advertising is part of that scrambling. When it works, it benefits the individual institution, but it’s likely negative for the ecosystem as a whole.

    Unfortunately, the ideology that assumes the market is always right has become common sense among one and a half of our two political parties. Markets are tools, not gods; regulating them is not heresy. But at this point in our political culture, anything that displeases markets is punished, often with an unnerving sense of righteousness among the punishers. We’ve even developed a new twist on Calvinism—the “prosperity gospel”—to sanctify wealth and to cast the nonwealthy as undeserving. I almost expect the mascot of the next for-profit educational behemoth to be the golden calf.

    Yes, I’d very much prefer to spend educational dollars on education, just as I’d rather spend medical dollars on medical care. Under the system we have, though, institutions can either compete or die. Changing that would require a political sea change.

    It’s almost enough to make me miss the talking loaves of bread.

    Have a question? Ask the Administrator at deandad (at) gmail (dot) com.

    Source link

  • Human connection still drives school attendance

    Human connection still drives school attendance

    Key points:

    At ISTE this summer, I lost count of how many times I heard “AI” as the answer to every educational challenge imaginable. Student engagement? AI-powered personalization! Teacher burnout? AI lesson planning! Parent communication? AI-generated newsletters! Chronic absenteeism? AI predictive models! But after moderating a panel on improving the high school experience, which focused squarely on human-centered approaches, one district administrator approached us with gratitude: “Thank you for NOT saying AI is the solution.”

    That moment crystallized something important that’s getting lost in our rush toward technological fixes: While we’re automating attendance tracking and building predictive models, we’re missing the fundamental truth that showing up to school is a human decision driven by authentic relationships.

    The real problem: Students going through the motions

    The scope of student disengagement is staggering. Challenge Success, affiliated with Stanford’s Graduate School of Education, analyzed data from over 270,000 high school students across 13 years and found that only 13 percent are fully engaged in their learning. Meanwhile, 45 percent are what researchers call “doing school,” going through the motions behaviorally but finding little joy or meaning in their education.

    This isn’t a post-pandemic problem–it’s been consistent for over a decade. And it directly connects to attendance issues. The California Safe and Supportive Schools initiative has identified school connectedness as fundamental to attendance. When high schoolers have even one strong connection with a teacher or staff member who understands their life beyond academics, attendance improves dramatically.

    The districts that are addressing this are using data to enable more meaningful adult connections, not just adding more tech. One California district saw 32 percent of at-risk students improve attendance after implementing targeted, relationship-based outreach. The key isn’t automated messages, but using data to help educators identify disengaged students early and reach out with genuine support.

    This isn’t to discount the impact of technology. AI tools can make project-based learning incredibly meaningful and exciting, exactly the kind of authentic engagement that might tempt chronically absent high schoolers to return. But AI works best when it amplifies personal bonds, not seeks to replace them.

    Mapping student connections

    Instead of starting with AI, start with relationship mapping. Harvard’s Making Caring Common project emphasizes that “there may be nothing more important in a child’s life than a positive and trusting relationship with a caring adult.” Rather than leave these connections to chance, relationship mapping helps districts systematically identify which students lack that crucial adult bond at school.

    The process is straightforward: Staff identify students who don’t have positive relationships with any school adults, then volunteers commit to building stronger connections with those students throughout the year. This combines the best of both worlds: Technology provides the insights about who needs support, and authentic relationships provide the motivation to show up.

    True school-family partnerships to combat chronic absenteeism need structures that prioritize student consent and agency, provide scaffolding for underrepresented students, and feature a wide range of experiences. It requires seeing students as whole people with complex lives, not just data points in an attendance algorithm.

    The choice ahead

    As we head into another school year, we face a choice. We can continue chasing the shiny startups, building ever more sophisticated systems to track and predict student disengagement. Or we can remember that attendance is ultimately about whether a young person feels connected to something meaningful at school.

    The most effective districts aren’t choosing between high-tech and high-touch–they’re using technology to enable more meaningful personal connections. They’re using AI to identify students who need support, then deploying caring adults to provide it. They’re automating the logistics so teachers can focus on relationships.

    That ISTE administrator was right to be grateful for a non-AI solution. Because while artificial intelligence can optimize many things, it can’t replace the fundamental human need to belong, to feel seen, and to believe that showing up matters.

    The solution to chronic absenteeism is in our relationships, not our servers. It’s time we started measuring and investing in both.

    Latest posts by eSchool Media Contributors (see all)

    Source link