Tag: Belongs

  • For a stronger, fairer Wales HE belongs in every manifesto

    For a stronger, fairer Wales HE belongs in every manifesto

    Wales stands on the cusp of significant political change. With an expanded Welsh Parliament and revised voting system, the 2026 Senedd election will mark a new chapter in Welsh democracy.

    May’s election will also be the first where 16- and 17-year-olds can cast their vote. This is a generation whose recent experience of education, and their future university and career aspirations, could be central to the choices they make at the ballot box.

    For those of us working in higher education, these changes present both a challenge and an opportunity. The new proportional voting system will likely result in a more diverse Senedd that will require greater collaboration across parties in order to be effective. For Universities Wales, this means we must continue to engage constructively with all political groups, building consensus around the vital role universities play in shaping a stronger Wales.

    A larger Senedd also means expanded committees and greater capacity for policy scrutiny. This is a welcome development that offers more space for detailed debate on the issues that matter, from economic growth and skills, to research, innovation, and community wellbeing. It also means more elected representatives who can champion higher education.

    Against this context, Universities Wales has launched a manifesto that sets out a clear vision for the future. It is a vision rooted in national renewal; one that sees universities as the essential infrastructure needed for Wales to thrive. Our message is simple: when universities succeed, Wales succeeds.

    Building jobs and skills

    In an age of rapid economic and technological change, Wales’ economy demands a flexible and highly skilled workforce. With Wales estimated to need 400,000 more graduates by 2035, universities will be central to supporting the next Welsh Government in meeting future economic needs and building a more skilled and prosperous nation.

    However, delivering on this ambition will require greater recognition of the role universities already play in delivering skills – including through the degree apprenticeships system – alongside a renewed focus on financial sustainability.

    A sustainable university sector is key to unlocking investment, productivity, and growth across Wales. Given recent challenges, an independent review of university funding and student support will be an essential step in ensuring universities can continue to deliver for Wales, now and into the future.

    Driving opportunity

    Wales’ future prosperity depends on our ability to nurture talent and equip people with the skills to thrive in a fast-moving world. Graduates are the backbone of our economy and the drivers of our future success. Put simply, there will be no growth without graduates.

    However, in Wales, we are seeing a worrying decline in the percentage of 18-year-olds choosing to go to university.

    We cannot afford to keep recycling old arguments about the value of a university education. We need to be stronger in demonstrating its essential role in shaping future prospects. If we fail, we risk leaving the next generation less qualified and with fewer pathways to success.

    Taking action to understand and reverse this trend through an independent commission on participation could unlock the potential of thousands of people, upskilling the economy and driving social mobility.

    Supporting research, innovation and local growth

    Equally as important is ensuring there is recognition and appropriate support for the full spectrum of work carried out by our universities, both here at home and through their international activities, which strengthen Wales’ global presence and influence.

    For example, while university research and innovation benefits people, business and public services across the nation and beyond, it is an area that continues to be significantly underfunded; pro-rata to population size, in 2024–25, the funding allocations made by HEFCW (now Medr) for R&I in Wales were £57m lower than those made by Research England for England, and £86m lower than in Scotland.

    Consequently, our manifesto pushes for greater investment in research, innovation and commercialisation within the current system of R&I funding. This means increases to QR funding, as well as further investment through the Research Wales Innovation Fund. This will be crucial to unlocking productivity and growth across all parts of Wales.

    We are also calling for greater support for the important work universities do within their communities to drive economic growth, attract investment, support public services, and shape the places where people live, work and thrive.

    The cliff-edge of funding caused by the loss of EU Structural Funds – which Wales particularly benefitted from – and the inadequacy of replacement funding, has had a detrimental impact on universities’ activity in this area. This is why long-term regional investment funding, channelled through the Welsh government, will be vital to supporting universities’ roles as anchor institutions, and encouraging private co-investment.

    Wales’ national renewal

    These priorities are not partisan. Every political party wants to see a thriving, prosperous Wales – and that vision depends on a strong, resilient and effective university sector. We know that the next Welsh government, whatever its composition, will face tough choices. But investing in universities is not a luxury, it is a strategic necessity that strengthens our economy, builds resilience, and transforms lives.

    As chair of Universities Wales, I believe our sector stands ready to play a central role in Wales’ future. The political system may be shifting, but our aim remains the same: to support a strong, fair, and successful Wales. This is a pivotal moment for our sector and for the nation. Now is the time to recognise the full value of Welsh universities,­ and to place them at the heart of Wales’ national renewal.

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  • From the Classroom to the Career Office: Why Career Readiness Belongs in Every Discipline – Faculty Focus

    From the Classroom to the Career Office: Why Career Readiness Belongs in Every Discipline – Faculty Focus

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  • From the Classroom to the Career Office: Why Career Readiness Belongs in Every Discipline – Faculty Focus

    From the Classroom to the Career Office: Why Career Readiness Belongs in Every Discipline – Faculty Focus

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  • Teaching students how to talk: why dialogue belongs at the heart of higher education

    Teaching students how to talk: why dialogue belongs at the heart of higher education

    UK universities are under mounting financial pressure. Join HEPI and King’s College London Policy Institute on 11 November 2025 at 1pm for a webinar on how universities balance relatively stable but underfunded income streams against higher-margin but volatile sources. Register now. We look forward to seeing you there.

    This blog was kindly authored by Estefania Gamarra, Postdoctoral Research Fellow, and Marion Heron Associate Professor in Educational Linguistics, both from the University of Surrey Institute of Education. It was also authored by Harriet R. Tenenbaum Professor in Developmental and Social Psychology and Lewis Baker Senior Lecturer in Chemical and Process Engineering – Foundation Year, both from the University of Surrey.

    Today’s higher education sector faces a need to increase student progression and improve retention. This goal is especially necessary for Foundation Year programmes. A proposed solution is active learning. Yet amid the push to make lectures more interactive, one approach stands out – dialogue.

    Dialogue transforms students from passive listeners into active participants. But while universities increasingly encourage discussion in classrooms and put students in pairs, they often overlook a crucial question: do students know how to talk to each other in academic contexts?

    For years, the emphasis has been on teaching students how to write academically, while teaching them how to engage in academic talk – how to reason aloud, build on others’ ideas, and disagree respectfully –  has been largely ignored. Academic dialogue is not a natural skill: it is a learnt one. For many students, particularly those from ethnic minoritised or first-generation backgrounds, the language of higher education can feel like a second language. Expecting them to navigate complex, often implicit norms of discussion without support risks reproducing the very inequalities universities seek to address.

    What we mean by educational dialogue

    Educational dialogue refers to purposeful, structured talk that supports reasoning, collaboration, and shared understanding. It differs from casual conversation because it asks participants to listen actively, build connections between ideas, and make their thinking explicit. In this way, dialogue makes learning visible – students co-construct understanding through talk.

    Despite a growing body of research in schools showing the benefits of educational dialogue for reasoning, collaboration, and attainment, there has been little work examining how this plays out in higher education. Our project, funded by the Nuffield Foundation, aimed to fill that gap by exploring how Foundation Year students across six UK universities talk to one another when given structured opportunities for dialogue – and whether a targeted intervention could enhance the quality of these interactions.

    What we found

    We observed clear disciplinary differences in the ways students engaged in dialogue. Psychology students, for instance, tended to make more connections to topics beyond the classroom, while Engineering students often built on one another’s ideas in a collaborative effort to solve the problems presented. Recognising these differences is crucial: subject cultures shape how students learn to talk, and this understanding can help educators design more inclusive, discipline-sensitive approaches to active learning. At the same time, if our goal is to prepare students for an increasingly interdisciplinary world, we must also help them become aware of how other disciplines talk and encourage them to develop the flexibility to communicate across disciplinary boundaries.

    The intervention itself had a tangible effect. Discussion time increased, and we observed a higher frequency of dialogic moves such as connecting ideas and making reasoning explicit. In simple terms, students were not just talking more; they were engaging in higher-quality dialogue.

    Both students and teachers noticed the change. Students reported greater confidence in contributing to class discussions and felt more comfortable expressing disagreement respectfully. Teachers in the intervention group described classroom talk as ‘more professional’ and ‘more purposeful’, noting that students participated more readily and that discussions felt more structured.

    Why this matters for policy

    These findings underscore a simple yet powerful message: if universities want students to collaborate effectively and communicate professionally, they must teach them how to talk.

    This is not merely a matter of classroom technique but of educational equity. All students are expected to adopt the norms of academic discourse without being taught what these norms are. By treating dialogue as a teachable skill – much like academic writing – universities can make participation more equitable and support a sense of belonging for all learners.

    Embedding educational dialogue within curricula also has broader policy implications. It aligns directly with the sector’s commitments to widening participation, student engagement, and the development of graduate attributes. In an increasingly interdisciplinary world, helping students learn how to communicate across disciplinary and cultural boundaries is not an optional extra – it is essential preparation for both professional and civic life.

    A call to action

    Universities already invest heavily in teaching academic writing. It is time to afford talk the same status. Embedding structured opportunities for educational dialogue – and explicitly teaching the skills that underpin it – can help create classrooms where every student, regardless of background, can find and use their voice.

    If higher education is serious about inclusion, engagement, and progression, it must teach students not just what to say, but how to say it.

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  • Why critical data literacy belongs in every K–12 classroom

    Why critical data literacy belongs in every K–12 classroom

    Key points:

    An unexpected group of presenters–11th graders from Whitney M. Young Magnet High School in Chicago–made a splash at this year’s ACM Conference on Fairness, Accountability, and Transparency (FAccT). These students captivated seasoned researchers and professionals with their insights on how school environments shape students’ views of AI. “I wanted our project to serve as a window into the eyes of high school students,” said Autumn Moon, one of the student researchers.

    What enabled these students to contribute meaningfully to a conference dominated by PhDs and industry veterans was their critical data literacy–the ability to understand, question, and evaluate the ethics of complex systems like AI using data. They developed these skills through their school’s Data is Power program.

    Launched last year, Data is Power is a collaboration among K-12 educators, AI ethics researchers, and the Young Data Scientists League. The program includes four pilot modules that are aligned to K-12 standards and cover underexplored but essential topics in AI ethics, including labor and environmental impacts. The goal is to teach AI ethics by focusing on community-relevant topics chosen by our educators with input from students, all while fostering critical data literacy. For example, Autumn’s class in Chicago used AI ethics as a lens to help students distinguish between evidence-based research and AI propaganda. Students in Phoenix explored how conversational AI affects different neighborhoods in their city.

    Why does the Data is Power program focus on critical data literacy? In my former role leading a diverse AI team at Amazon, I saw that technical skills alone weren’t enough. We needed people who could navigate cultural nuance, question assumptions, and collaborate across disciplines. Some of the most technically proficient candidates struggled to apply their knowledge to real-world problems. In contrast, team members trained in critical data literacy–those who understood both the math and the societal context of the models–were better equipped to build responsible, practical tools. They also knew when not to build something.

    As AI becomes more embedded in our lives, and many students feel anxious about AI supplanting their job prospects, critical data literacy is a skill that is not just future-proof–it is future-necessary. Students (and all of us) need the ability to grapple with and think critically about AI and data in their lives and careers, no matter what they choose to pursue. As Milton Johnson, a physics and engineering teacher at Bioscience High School in Phoenix, told me: “AI is going to be one of those things where, as a society, we have a responsibility to make sure everyone has access in multiple ways.”

    Critical data literacy is as much about the humanities as it is about STEM. “AI is not just for computer scientists,” said Karren Boatner, who taught Autumn in her English literature class at Whitney M. Young Magnet High School. For Karren, who hadn’t considered herself a “math person” previously, one of the most surprising parts of the program was how much she and her students enjoyed a game-based module that used middle school math to explain how AI “learns.” Connecting math and literature to culturally relevant, real-world issues helps students see both subjects in a new light.

    As AI continues to reshape our world, schools must rethink how to teach about it. Critical data literacy helps students see the relevance of what they’re learning, empowering them to ask better questions and make more informed decisions. It also helps educators connect classroom content to students’ lived experiences.

    If education leaders want to prepare students for the future–not just as workers, but as informed citizens–they must invest in critical data literacy now. As Angela Nguyen, one of our undergraduate scholars from Stanford, said in her Data is Power talk: “Data is power–especially youth and data. All of us, whether qualitative or quantitative, can be great collectors of meaningful data that helps educate our own communities.”

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  • Tax Policy Belongs in Liberal Arts Curriculum (opinion)

    Tax Policy Belongs in Liberal Arts Curriculum (opinion)

    As congressional Republicans scratched and clawed to pass President Trump’s signature policy effort, the One Big Beautiful Bill Act—a sprawling, tax-heavy package celebrated as much for its branding as for its contents—it is notable how few people could explain what exactly was in it. Tax cuts for some, probably. A Social Security bonus, maybe. A gutting of public benefits, almost certainly. What is clear, though, is that the bill’s complexity was always in service of its politics: When no one understands tax policy, it’s much easier to sell whatever story you want.

    That confusion is exactly why we should be teaching tax policy more broadly—not just in sparsely attended law school classes and accounting departments, but in general education curricula and first-year seminars. Tax isn’t just a technical rule-following subject; it’s a civic one. Tax policy shapes everything from fairness and inequality to the functional shape of the state itself. Yet, most students will graduate college without ever being asked to consider what tax is for—much less whom it helps, whom it harms and why it remains so easy to obscure.

    That is precisely the starting point for the course I designed at Drexel University, Introduction to Tax Theory and Policy, which I teach in our innovative undergraduate law major, housed at the Thomas R. Kline School of Law. It’s not a course for aspiring tax attorneys, prospective C.P.A.s or Excel mavens—few of my students intend to practice tax law. They’re interested in criminal or family law, or they’re business majors, future social workers, engineers or undecided second-years. But they’re all taxpayers—and that’s the relevant bit.

    Courses like mine aim to democratize access to legal and policy tools so that all students, irrespective of their major, can become more informed and empowered participants in civic life. In class, we don’t parse tax rates or calculate deductions. No calculators are required, and at no point is anyone expected to consider the straight-line depreciation of an apartment complex. We ask why the system is built the way it is, and we talk about the power that it reflects and protects. We talk about values: what kinds of behavior the tax code encourages or punishes. We talk about trust and legitimacy: What happens when people believe the system is rigged, and what if they’re right? In short, we treat tax not as a set of arcane rules and rates to memorize, but as a lens through which we can better understand the power structures we live under.

    The surprising part (at least to me, when I first taught it and admittedly just hoped I wouldn’t be lecturing to an empty room) is how much students connect with this approach. More than connect with it—they often enjoy it. I’ve received feedback from students that describes the class as life-changing and course reviews that have noted how it changed assumptions regarding what tax even is. High praise from 19- and 20-year-olds.

    The course itself draws on philosophy, political theory, economics and law—but what it really cultivates is a kind of civic literacy. It asks students to think about who they are in relation to the state and how much of their future may be shaped by the tax policy they’ve never been taught to see. For many, it is the first time they’ve encountered taxation not as something to dodge, but as something to question, debate and reimagine in furtherance of their own values.

    In one session, we explore how the tax code is employed as a kind of soft steering wheel in the economy—how it at turns encourages homeownership, subsidizes sports stadiums, directs corporate research and development, and shapes (or even outright creates) the market for electric vehicles. Another week, we explore estate taxes and inheritance: not just who pays, but what it means to redistribute wealth across generations and what happens when we don’t. We read Garrett Hardin’s “The Tragedy of the Commons,” engage in spirited debates about the potential for tax to solve the artificial intelligence copyright debate, and unpack why TurboTax spent two decades fighting free filing.

    Over the course of the class, the question shifts away from what is a tax and toward whose values does this system reflect? That shift—from mere definitional awareness to focused critical engagement—is when I know the class is working. Students cease to see tax as someone else’s problem and begin seeing it as a potent tool of and for democracy.

    In their final papers, students have proposed remarkably forward-looking and sophisticated tax policy reforms—reflecting both creativity and civic seriousness. One student argued that companies receiving public subsidies through tax credits, like chemical and drug manufacturers, should be barred from claiming additional credits to remediate harms their products create. Another proposed a data-collection “sin tax” aimed at discouraging exploitative surveillance practices by tech companies. These aren’t rote academic exercises. They’re thoughtful intervention proposals that treat tax as a lever for shaping society.

    If tax policy determines who gets what, who pays for it and how the government keeps a hand in the marketplace, then it belongs squarely at the heart of a liberal arts education. We don’t cabin discussions of justice in law schools, and we don’t isolate questions of the public good in policy programs—why do we treat taxation, which intersects with both and innumerable other facets of modern life, as off-limits or too technical for undergraduates?

    This isn’t a plea to teach undergraduates to file their own taxes—though there is probably a case to be made for that, too. It’s about ensuring curricula help them understand how the world works and how it’s been designed to work for some more than others. That means tackling the politics of Internal Revenue Service funding, exploring how “tax relief” often functions as an upstream transfer of wealth and how a positively sprawling bill like the one recently passed through Congress can obscure much more than it reveals.

    If no one understands how tax policy works, how can anyone meaningfully weigh in on whether they support one revenue bill or another? On issues like immigration, abortion or education funding, many people bring at least some passing knowledge or lived experience to the conversation. Tax remains, for most, a black box. The more opaque it becomes, the more tempting it is for lawmakers to retreat into it—tucking major redistributive choices into the shadows of the tax code, where they can be shielded from public scrutiny.

    On the other hand, when students come to see tax as a form of the civic superstructure—something they live within and not just under—they are empowered to not only understand tax policy but to shape it. That should be one of the goals of any serious undergraduate education.

    We don’t have to, and should not, keep treating tax as one professional niche within other professional niches. If we want students to understand how tax relates to power, fairness and democratic participation, we should give them the tools to talk about it. This needn’t focus on the rates and rules but should illustrate the values taxes reflect and trade-offs they embed.

    Courses like mine don’t require a background in economics, accounting or law. They require a willingness to take seriously the idea that how we tax equates to how we govern. If we can help students see tax not as a source of dread or line item on their paycheck, but as the site of collective economic decision-making, we don’t just produce better-informed graduates—we’ll also produce more engaged citizens.

    Andrew Leahey is a practice professor of law at Drexel University’s Thomas R. Kline School of Law.

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