Rumors are swirling about the extent to which Harvard University will acquiesce to the Trump administration’s attempt to crush institutions of higher education. Until very recently Harvard was being publicly lauded for standing up to the government. Reports that Harvard may be willing to pay a sizable financial settlement to resolve legal accusations that it allowed antisemitism and promoted diversity policies were shocking to many. But the university’s purported resistance to government overreach already had a glaring exception—Palestine—and we as scholars who work on the subject have recently experienced it firsthand.
The Harvard Educational Review was set to release a special issue this summer focusing on education and Palestine. The topic, commissioned in early 2024, was timely in the wake of Israel’s onslaught on Gaza, which rights groups and other experts have concluded is a genocide, and aligned with the journal’s commitment to publishing research that tackles the most pressing issues facing education. The articles had been accepted, edited and contracted. The special issue had already been promoted at major education conferences and on the back cover of the spring issue of the HER. But suddenly, Harvard pulled the plug.
As recently reported in The Guardian, the Harvard Education Publishing Group (HEPG), which publishes the Review, abruptly and unilaterally decided to cancel the forthcoming special issue.
We wrote one of the articles that was supposed to be published in the special issue. Our article, one of 10 slated for publication, focused on the experiences of Palestinian teachers during the Lebanese civil war. But in May, as the special issue was nearing publication, we were surprised to find out that HEPG wanted to submit the entire issue to Harvard’s Office of the General Counsel for an exceptional and last-minute “risk” review. Articles had already been through the regular publishing process and were under contract. At no point to our knowledge had any “risk”-related concerns been raised about any of them. An additional review was therefore well outside the realm of routine practice.
Alarmed by this move and the dangerous precedent of subjecting academic scholarship to vetting by university lawyers, all authors in the special issue organized and expressed unequivocal refusal to this additional review in a letter sent to HEPG.
After we expressed our refusal, HEPG went radio silent for almost a month. And then it canceled the whole issue, only then claiming that there were problems with copyediting and its internal process. But procedural claims have often been leveled to silence speech, especially when it comes to Palestine. Whatever concerns about the process, there is no justification for the cancellation of the entire special issue. HEPG’s decision is yet another example of the “Palestine exception” in action: the term used to describe how seemingly liberal institutions restrict freedom of expression when it comes to Palestine.
Given the timing of HEPG’s decision—which aligns with the Trump administration’s weaponizing of Title VI of the Civil Rights Act—this seems to be the logical outcome of a political climate that has promoted sweeping claims of antisemitism to attack student protesters and higher education institutions, including Harvard. In this climate it seems far more likely that HEPG opted for censorship over academic freedom.
Of particular concern is Harvard’s recent adoption of a problematic new definition of antisemitism. That definition, proposed by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA), has been roundly criticized by experts—and one of the authors of the definition—for equating critiques of the state of Israel with antisemitism. This conflation makes it harder to speak out against Israel’s actions and policies toward Palestinians and easier to victimize Palestinians. Harvard is not alone in this action.
Even before Israel’s latest brutal onslaught of Gaza, scholars writing and advocating for Palestinian rights confronted the limits of liberal empathy for Palestinians in the form of tenure denials, censored freedom of speech, doxing by pro-Israel groups and even death threats. But the repression of knowledge production and freedom of speech on Palestine has escalated since October 2023. U.S. universities and colleges (including Harvard) have canceled events that center Palestinian rights, attempted to censor scholarship, forcibly suppressed student protests against Israel’s actions in Gaza and beyond, and dismissed faculty over Palestine-related programming.
Still, the scrapping of this special issue marks a worrying escalation. It suggests that even those universities that are outspoken about their liberal values are ready to stifle academics’ legitimate criticism of Israeli policies and practices. Make no mistake: Anticipatory censorship of this kind is a hallmark of the governmental overreach that authoritarian regimes around the world are known for. As a growing number of higher education institutions adopt the IHRA definition of antisemitism, we fear we will see more and more examples of the suppression of academic freedom.
The consequences of this extend far beyond the academy. As the death toll in Gaza exceeds 60,000 and young people there face a third year without education amid ongoing bombardment, blockade and starvation, knowledge, debate and democratic action are essential to preventing the kind of horrors that are unfolding in Gaza today.
Thea Renda Abu El-Haj is a professor of education at Barnard College, Columbia University. Jo Kelcey is assistant professor of education in the Department of Psychology and Education at Lebanese American University.
Whenever I write something halfway decent (sometimes) or astoundingly dumb (often), I can count on a thoughtful response from Bob Ubell. Our conversation took place during the period when Bob published two books,Going Online(2017) and Staying Online(2021), as well as numerous articles in EdSurge, IHE, The Evollution and other publications.
Bob’s online education career goes at least back to 1999, where he was the dean of online learning at Stevens Institute of Technology. Subsequent leadership roles include vice dean of online learning at New York University Tandon School of Engineering and vice dean emeritus, online learning, at NYU Tandon.
In a profession where many of us are making things up as we go, Bob stands out for his long-term experience thinking about and leading online learning initiatives. I asked Bob if he would answer my questions about his career and the future of online learning, and he graciously agreed.
Q: According to your Wikipedia page, you have been working at the intersection of higher education, technology and publishing since you graduated from Brooklyn College in 1961. What does the next decade hold for you as you think about your contributions to our online learning community?
A: I’m not optimistic about what’s ahead, not only for digital education, but also for the nation’s wider academic enterprise. It’s impossible to answer your question in isolation without reckoning with the ugly scene now taking place in higher ed. Challenged by the federal government’s attacks, early this spring, 600 higher ed leaders warned about “unprecedented government overreach and political interference now endangering American higher education.” Since then, the present administration has continued to follow a treacherous path, destabilizing campuses across the country, targeting faculty and student academic freedom, and, in a new Supreme Court decision, ultimately dismantling the U.S. Department of Education.
In an opinion column inthis publication earlier this year, I predicted that American colleges and universities faced a terrifying cascade of autocratic moves “set by leaders in Hungary, Turkey and elsewhere … selecting college presidents, controlling faculty hiring and advancement, punishing academic dissent and imposing travel restrictions.” Many of these despotic actions have already been implemented and continue to be imposed on schools in this country.
Last month, to restore about $400 million in federal research funding, Columbia University bowed to tyrannical demands by officials. In an unprecedented agreement, Columbia will pay more than $200 million in fines for dubious accusations of antisemitic student theatrics. It also opened the gates for government intrusion in the school’s academic prerogatives in hiring, admissions and curriculum. Keeping Columbia in academic handcuffs, the deal will be overseen by an outside monitor, reporting to officials every six months.
The midcentury philosopher and cultural critic Hannah Arendt, in her masterful account of totalitarian regimes, revealed that they rely on systematic suppression of individual thought and freedom to maintain control, undermining the very purpose of universities—institutions that encourage critical thinking, open debate and intellectual autonomy, essential in a democracy. Recent power plays against Columbia, Harvard, Brown, Duke—and, just this week, UCLA—show how brutal our government can be in imposing its will.
The noted Columbia genocide scholar Marianne Hirsch, the daughter of Holocaust survivors, who teaches a class on genocide with a book by Arendt, is considering leaving Columbia following its adoption of a new definition of antisemitism, which casts criticism of Israel as hate speech, a provision in the new pact with the federal government. Hirsch fears it may force her to face official sanction for even mentioning Arendt, who criticized Israel’s founding.
“A university that treats criticism of Israel as antisemitic and threatens sanctions for those who disobey is no longer a place of open inquiry,” Hirsch told the Associated Press. “I just don’t see how I can teach about genocide in that environment.” Reactionary governments always find an innocent mark to target. In the 1950s, it was American Communists. Today, it’s pro-Palestinian faculty and students.
The downstream effects on remote learning are already being felt, with the perception overseas—following arrests of foreign students and other threats against students and scholars from abroad—that the U.S. is turning its back on international recruitment, undermining our reputation as a leading destination for higher education and potentially impacting foreign student tuition revenue, face-to-face and online. In the U.S., the demand to shut down DEI programs will surely affect the greatest number of online students—80 percent of whom work and a third [of whom] are first in their families to attend college.
On a personal note, I worry that closing the [Education Department] will cripple and may even end higher ed data collection and reporting, giving us less reliable information on the status of American college students. Over my career in higher ed, I’ve depended on federal government data, especially in supporting findings I’ve disclosed in my writing. “We’ll soon be in the dark,” I warned in a recent IHE column.
Turning to your question, asking what sort of contribution I might make to the remote learning community. Like so many others, I don’t feel my voice possesses much force against what’s happening. Nor do I feel competent to articulate what might make a difference. Academic opposition to what we face has been scattershot and largely ineffective, except for various successful legal maneuvers. More broadly, on a national scale, resistance has been disappointing, with few voices, in and out of electoral politics, with enough momentum to capture our yearning for democratic fresh air. To get us out of this nightmare, I dream that someone will rise in this desperate time to gather all of us together in an inspiring and powerful national movement against tyranny.
Q: There is a growing concern across higher education about the job market for new college graduates, as employers are increasingly utilizing AI to accomplish the work previously done by entry-level workers. What role should online learning leaders be playing at our institutions in evolving and adapting our institutions to the AI revolution?
A: Since the pandemic, it hasn’t been that easy for recent college graduates to find a job in our digital economy–even before the invasion of AI. In March, recent college grad unemployment was at 5.8 percent, the highest in the last decades, excluding the pandemic, and nearly double the rate of all workers with a college degree, now at 2.7 percent, nearly a historic low.
“For the first time in modern history, a bachelor’s degree is failing to deliver on its fundamental promise: access to professional employment,” observes a troubling report from Burning Glass, the big labor market analysis firm. “Young graduates face unemployment rates that are rising faster than any other education or age cohort, while over half of them land into jobs they didn’t need college to get. The traditional pathway from college to career is becoming less reliable.” In addition to other causes, the report singles out AI.
As with all radical technological innovations, the reception of AI is fraught with contradictory predictions on its impact. Touted by champions as an economic miracle, others fear it as a devilish intrusion, disrupting our material well-being, especially for college grads who have historically outpaced the economic success of others. In the postwar years, most American workers found middle-class manufacturing or clerical jobs, but in the last 40 years, new jobs are either in highly paid professional fields or low-wage service industries, a disastrous national calamity that has largely generated our present political trouble.
Sorry, but I don’t have exciting new ways to recommend to recent college grads to extricate themselves from the present dilemma, other than—not a very original idea—encourage them to enhance their knowledge gained in college classrooms with online or in-person nondegree courses in AI and other technical disciplines, giving them a leg up with attractive additional credentials.
Not being knowledgeable about AI, I reached out to Alfred Essa, an insightful colleague and author of the forthcoming Artificial Intelligence: Shaping the Future of Innovation, who advised, “Students must think of themselves as designers, creating AI-powered applications to solve problems, not just in the short-term, but over their careers, positioning themselves in industry, capable of building and changing things with AI.” Essa emphasized that his advice is not only for technically savvy students, but for others who are creative in aesthetics, humanities and other disciplines.
Essa worries that the present higher ed leadership is obsolete. “For colleges to succeed,” he urged, “they must be led by a new generation who will adopt the new AI environment.” In the meantime, for my part, higher ed needs to welcome AI as a technical innovation, in the long tradition of typewriters, calculators, computers and digital education. Once the genie is out of the bottle, you can’t stick it back in. Restrictive, retrograde rules are foolish or punishing—or both.
Q: What advice do you have for folks like me who are thinking about ways to stay active and engaged in online learning and higher education once we retire from our university administrative roles?
A: Cicero found that the way we lived in our youth prepares us for retirement. The choices we made when we were young naturally lead to the life we will live as we age. He argued that preparation for our later years is not a separate phase, but a continuation of the life we led all along. “The harvest of old age is the recollection and abundance of blessings previously secured,” he wrote (Cicero De Senectute, translated with an introduction and notes by Andrew P. Peabody [Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1887]).
In the nearly seven months since President Trump took office again, academic associations, faculty unions, researchers and other groups have used the legal system to push back on the administration’s efforts to reshape higher education and the federal government.
The lawsuits challenged bans on diversity, equity and inclusion programs; the administration’s crackdown on international students; the termination of thousands of grants; and the dismantling of the Department of Education.
“What we’re seeing is that when the administration tries to impose a whole new set of rules and regulations based upon their particular ideology … the courts are saying, ‘Wait’ or ‘No,’ until it gets to the Supreme Court,” said Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers, a teachers’ union that has filed multiple lawsuits against Trump and notched a few victories.
An Inside Higher Ed analysis of more than 40 lawsuits against the administration that are related to higher ed found that district judges have ruled against the executive branch in nearly two-thirds of the cases. Almost a quarter have yet to be decided. Of those in which a judge has ruled, 18 have been appealed, and only two were overturned. In bothinstances when the district court was overruled, it had to do with reversing injunctions that prevented the Trump administration from canceling grants based in part on the president’s executive order against DEI. The Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Trump administration in a separate but similar case.
Nine cases have yet to receive a decision from an appeals court.
For more updates on litigation against the administration, go to Inside Higher Edrevamped lawsuit tracker. The searchable database will be updated regularly.
Of the cases Inside Higher Ed analyzed, the most frequent issue at hand was grant cuts, at 14 cases, followed by the Education Department’s reduction in force at eight.
“A lot of the actions the administration is taking are very clearly being defined by the courts as patently illegal. They’re outside of the established law and they exceed executive authority,” said Jon Fansmith, senior vice president for government relations at the American Council on Education, which has sued the administration severaltimes to challenge a proposed cap on reimbursements for indirect research expenses that would cost universities millions.
Some worry that rulings from the conservative majority on the Supreme Court could be driven by party alignment more than the law. Fansmith said he was certainly concerned by the court’s rulings so far but was hesitant to call them an “interjection of partisan politics.”
He noted that the rulings have come from the court’s shadow docket. This means they have made their decisions outside of the traditional case procedures with limited briefings, no oral argument and often no detailed explanations.
For example, when it comes to the case challenging the Education Department’s layoffs, Fansmith said that the lawyers he’s talked to are “sort of confounded by the decision.” The justices didn’t offer an opinion on whether the department can legally fire half its employees, but did allow the administration to proceed with the process while the courts work through the case.
“So it’s sort of a split decision in some ways; the merits haven’t yet been resolved finally,” he said.
But the odds of the court making a final judgment that brings back the employees seems unlikely, some legal experts have said. And Weingarten noted that even if they do hear the cases this fall and make a final decision next spring, the damage will have been done.
“The problem is that when you start talking about medical and scientific research, the moment that those things get stopped, there is irreparable damage and it’s hard to recreate them,” she said. “The Trump administration is really hurting what was an anchoring principle of American enterprise and innovation … that research has really been suffocated and used as leverage for the Trump administration to get its ideological whims adopted.”
Still, many different plaintiffs—including Democratic attorneys general—continue to push back against the Trump administration’s agenda.
Massachusetts AG Andrea Joy Campbell, who has challenged the president in multiple suits, believes that Trump and his cabinet have repeatedly demonstrated a willingness to use “unlawful abuses of power” to limit academic freedom. And as long as they continue to do so, she added, Democratic leaders will keep taking matters to court.
“State attorneys general have the power to fight back to uphold the rule of law and protect our young people—and that’s exactly what we’re doing,” Campbell wrote in an email to Inside Higher Ed. “We’ve achieved significant victories in the vast majority of our cases, and we will continue to hold the line because our children and the future of our democracy depend on it.”
Democracy Forward, a nonprofit legal group that has represented plaintiffs in a number of cases, also chimed in, saying the Trump-Vance “assault” on education will continue to be “met with force.”
“These victories show just how essential higher education is to our democracy and why protecting it from political interference will remain a core part of our work,” said Skye Perryman, the group’s president and CEO.
She added that while the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn some cases was “incredibly disappointing,” it’s not the end.
“We win a lot, but if we’re not experiencing some setbacks, we’re not pushing hard enough,” she said.
However, major concerns still loom among many higher education advocates as Trump officials continue to fight back, pushing for lawsuits to reach the Supreme Court and lambasting the district and appellate judges that rule against the executive branch, calling them “activist[s]” for disagreeing with the president.
“There is a troubling and dangerous trend of unelected judges inserting themselves into the presidential decision-making process,” White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said during a press conference in May.
Leavitt’s comments were related to court decisions blocking certain immigration policies, but Madi Biedermann, press secretary for the Education Department, has also criticized judges that rule against Trump.
In May, Biedermann called a district court judge who blocked the department’s mass layoffs a “far-left judge,” adding that he “dramatically overstepped his authority” and had “a political ax to grind.”
Weingarten, on the other hand, says it’s Trump and the conservative Supreme Court that are thwarting academic freedom and violating constitutional rights for political power.
What we’ve seen is “more the sign of an autocrat that tries to control as opposed to people who believe in freedom,” she said. “It’s all very, very dangerous for the future of America.”
As a first-year student at Emory University, Leia Marshall walked into the Pathways Center to receive advice on her career goals.
She was a neuroscience and behavioral biology major who thought she might go to medical school. But after meeting with a peer mentor, Marshall realized she was more interested in optometry. “I didn’t really know a lot about the prehealth track. I didn’t really know if I wanted to do medicine at all,” she said. “Getting to speak to a peer mentor really affected the way that I saw my trajectory through my time at Emory and onwards.”
Emory opened the Pathways Center in August 2022, uniting five different student-facing offices: career services, prehealth advising, undergraduate research, national scholarships and fellowships, and experiential learning, said Branden Grimmett, associate dean of the center.
“It brings together what were existing functions but are now streamlined to make it easier for students to access,” Grimmett said.
The pre–health science peer mentor program engages hundreds of students each year through office hours, advising appointments, club events and other engagements, helping undergraduates navigate their time at Emory and beyond in health science programs.
The background: Prehealth advising has been a fixture at Emory for 20 years, led by a team of staff advisers and 30 peer mentors. The office helps students know the options available to them within health professions and that they’re meeting degree requirements to enter these programs. A majority of Emory’s prehealth majors are considering medicine, but others hope to study veterinary medicine, dentistry or optometry, like Marshall.
How it works: The pre–health science mentors are paid student employees, earning approximately $15 an hour. The ideal applicant is a rising junior or senior who has a passion for helping others, Grimmett said.
Mentors also serve on one of four subcommittees—connect, prepare, explore and apply—representing different phases of the graduate school process.
Mentors are recruited for the role in the spring and complete a written application as well as an interview process. Once hired, students participate in a daylong training alongside other student employees in the Pathways Center. Mentors also receive touch-up training in monthly team meetings with their supervisors, Grimmett said.
Peer mentors host office hours in the Pathways Center and advertise their services through digital marketing, including a dedicated Instagram account and weekly newsletter.
Peer-to-peer engagement: Marshall became a peer mentor her junior year and is giving the same advice and support to her classmates that she received. In a typical day, she said she’ll host office hours, meeting with dozens of students and offering insight, resources and advice.
“Sometimes students are coming in looking for general advice on their schedule for the year or what classes to take,” she said. “A lot of the time, we have students come in and ask about how to get involved with research or find clinical opportunities in Atlanta or on campus, so it really ranges and varies.”
Sometimes Marshall’s job is just to be there for the student and listen to their concerns.
“Once I met with a student who came in and she was really nervous about this feeling that she wasn’t doing enough,” Marshall said. “There’s this kind of impostor phenomenon that you’re not involved in enough extracurriculars, you’re not doing enough to set you up for success.”
Marshall is able to relate to these students and help them reflect on their experiences.
“That’s been one of my favorite parts of being a peer mentor: getting to help students recognize their strengths and guide them through things that I’ve been through myself,” she said.
In addition to assisting their classmates, peer mentors walk away with résumé experience and better career discernment, Grimmett said. “Often our students learn a lot about their own path as they’re in dialogue with other students. It’s a full circle for many of our peer mentors.”
“It’s funny to think about the fact that our role is to help others, but it really helps all of us as peer mentors as well,” Marshall said. “We learn to connect with a variety of students, and I think it’s been really valuable for me to connect with the advisers myself and get to know them better.”
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This article has been updated to correct the spelling of Branden Grimmett’s name.
Title: Policymakers Role in Expanding Prison Education Access
Authors: Jennifer Thomsen and Shytance Wren
Source: Education Commission of the States
A June 2025 report from the Education Commission of the States outlined ways in which state policy actors can expand access to prison education and therefore reduce likelihood for recidivism and incarceration costs.
Policymakers’ Role in Expanding Prison Education Access summarized findings from an 18-month long community of practice which included stakeholders representing state education policy leaders, leaders from corrections departments, higher education prison program directors, policy leaders, and researchers. The community of practice highlighted key barriers faced by incarcerated learners and produced policy suggestions to remediate these barriers to education.
Among the report’s key findings:
Prison education is a cost-saving measure. Every one dollar spent on prison education saves four to five dollars in incarceration costs.
Inefficient governance in prison education programs creates a lack of access for incarcerated learners and a lack of data for policymakers to improve programs. A key consideration in addressing this issue is to review what level of governance the best policies would come from (i.e.: from the governor by executive order).
Access to financial aid is often limited for incarcerated individuals. One way to mitigate this barrier is to review existing state financial aid programs that prohibit incarcerated individuals from receiving aid.
Inconsistency in access to student support prevents continued learning. A consideration for state leaders to address this inconsistency is to strengthen partnerships with community colleges and job training programs to ensure adequate reentry guidance for incarcerated learners.
The report concludes that expanding access to prison education is most efficient when state policymakers address governance, financial aid access, and student supports for incarcerated learners.
Title: Varying Degrees 2025: Americans Find Common Ground in Higher Education
Authors: Sophie Nguyen, Olivia Sawyer, Olivia Cheche
Source: New America
New America’s ninth annual survey on higher education in America found that despite the politicization and polarization of higher education, Americans are united in their understanding of the importance and value of a college degree.
Varying Degrees 2025: Americans Find Common Ground in Higher Education report found more agreements than differences between Democrats and Republicans.
Key report findings include:
Nine out of ten Americansbelieve colleges are responsible for equipping students for career success. Americans widely agree colleges are also responsible for bolstering a student’s writing and communication skills.
While about 40 percent of Americans believe the state of education is fine how it is, there are partisan differences across those who report seeing positive effects. Nearly three-fourths (74 percent) of Democrats see positive effects of higher education, in contrast with only 39 percent of Republicans.
Seventy-three percent of Americans believe college is worth the investment and needed to be successful in life. However, this belief in return on investment changes greatly depending on the type of college discussed. Many Americans think highly of community colleges, a majority think public colleges and universities are worth the investment, and significantly less believe in the cost of private colleges – especially private for-profit institutions. Regardless of degree type, two in three Americans believe it is easier to find a well-paying job with some college education.
Half of Americans surveyed believe college is unaffordable. The report finds that both Democrats and Republicans believe the cost of college is a major issue. Both parties identify the cost of college as one of the main reasons students choose not to enroll in postsecondary education.
Over 70 percent of Americans believe the government should invest more tax dollars on postsecondary education. Although there is a larger partisan divide on this belief – most Democrats (91 percent) and Republicans (58 percent) agree in the federal government’s responsibility to make higher education more affordable.
Varying Degrees 2025 concludes that despite unprecedented legislation effecting higher education, targeted attacks on institutions of higher education from the White House, and media polarization of postsecondary education – Americans largely believe in the value of a college education.
First in Leadership Series by Barry Ryan, PhD, JD August 11, 2025
It is hard to think of a time when higher education was swimming in a pool filled with a greater number of shark-like threats than at present.
Some of these were predictable (in hindsight), some not so much. Let’s set aside blame, however, on either an institutional level or on a more global basis. The vital thing now is for genuine leaders to help chart courses that will lead higher education, not just to mere survival, but to new and meaningful purposes that will benefit this generation and the next.
When situations are “normal,” we may be tempted to imagine that we need leadership that can keep the legacy intact, turn the crank, not rock the boat. But normal no longer exists, does it?
I remember a senior university leader, who admonished me, as I began a new presidency: “everything’s going great—just don’t mess it up” (using slightly more colorful language). One year later, seismic changes in higher ed created an unexpected crisis and necessitated major changes in the institution. Almost everything that had contributed to its prior success turned, overnight, into a liability.
There is, of course, more than one crisis in which higher ed is being buffeted. The sheer number of colleges and universities that have ceased to exist at all, or have been merged to various extents with others, or are currently teetering on the brink, appears in news stories almost every day. The root causes are legion and often woven together: financial shortfalls, a shrinking number of students, reductions in state and federal support, the disappearance of many international students, families, and prospective students increasingly unable to justify the cost of a degree, the “value” of which is seriously questioned. The list goes on.
Of the three large “types” of higher education in the United States—public (state) colleges and universities, private not-for-profit colleges and universities, and for-profit entities—the vast majority are struggling in meaningful ways.
If you find yourself in a leadership role in this age of crisis, what are some key things you can do to keep becoming a better leader and more effectively serve your institution and your colleagues? Here are three suggestions that you may find helpful.
First, don’t panic.
And even if you do feel panic welling up inside you, do your best to keep it from becoming obvious. Phil Slott, who was involved in the Dry Idea marketing campaign in the 1980s, seems to have coined a relevant phrase: “Never let them see you sweat.” It just stresses you out more and does little to inspire confidence in those who are looking to you for leadership.
Once you’ve steadied yourself, the next critical realization is that leadership in crisis cannot be solitary work.
Second, remember every day, you can’t do this alone.
A 19th-century lawyer by the name of Abe Lincoln is credited with the adage: “A person who represents himself in court has a fool for a client.” That rings true for any leader who tries to do everything and assumes they have sufficient knowledge (or wisdom or experience or insight) to solve every problem on their own. No one does—no matter how experienced.
So where do you turn for help? The answer is two-fold: internally and externally. You need to draw on both circles and find confidential, experienced, and reliable counsel.
Choose very carefully with whom you share the issues internally. Depending on the nature of the problem you’re trying to address, success might well be thwarted if there is a lapse of absolute confidentiality. At the starting point of the process, you need to be able to rely on one other person, or perhaps a very small circle, with which you will be able to expand bit by bit as the timeline moves along.
There are difficult audiences and stakeholders in the life of an academic institution, and ultimately, all must be included in the process of working through a crisis. The sequencing of sharing information and inviting input, though, must be very carefully structured. If you’re a president, oftentimes the first person you seek is a senior member of the administration—a provost, vice president, or someone in a similar position. At times, it could be the chair of the board or a wise and thoughtful alum. But whoever the person(s) may be, the timing of sharing the situation and seeking input for solutions is everything.
It’s very important not to neglect external assistance as well. It is all but impossible to generate a sufficient perspective on a crisis from only one (your) vantage point, or even from that of your small, trustworthy group. You’re very likely not the first institution to face these problems, and consulting with trusted external leaders can provide not only perspective but also ideas you may not have thought of on your own.
Some of these leaders may be in academic institutions, but not necessarily. It is always helpful to have relationships with leaders in other professional fields as well, who may be particularly helpful in providing fresh perspectives and ideas. For example, in my own experience, I’ve found such people in leadership of non-profit organizations or boards, key corporate positions, government at various levels, and experienced friends with whom I served long ago, and could provide input on both my institution’s situation and also my own strengths and weaknesses. In addition, external folks don’t have the same emotional investment as someone internal, so the chances of a more neutral observation point are increased significantly.
There is a temptation—and often a prudent one—to seek external input from lawyers. There are, of course, a fair number of attorneys and firms with expertise in higher education, which can be a plus. Higher education is a very specialized field, and, frankly, most lawyers have a huge knowledge deficit in terms of the operational realities of a college or university. Their tendency is to think, “Well, I know higher ed—after all, I went to college and law school” (or maybe even taught a course or two). Beware the well-intentioned lawyer who does not have directly relevant practice experience.
This, of course, does not at all preclude seeking competent legal advice for certain aspects of the problems you may be facing. For example, most institutions have or will need counsel in employment matters. Even if not the center of your challenge, these issues will likely arise as part of the need for a solution to your challenges. If it appears you will have to make difficult financial decisions that might impact faculty or staff, you should seek excellent employment counsel much sooner rather than later. With students, Title IX requirements, for example, may dictate the need for specialized counsel, as might certain types of accreditation issues.
Third, leadership is not “one size fits all.”
Every leader has different abilities and personalities. Even though many institutions experience similar types of crises, the circumstances of each call for a bespoke solution.
However, some very important leadership characteristics can increase the probability of success in these situations. In part two, we’ll examine these and how to cultivate them.
Dr. Barry Ryan invested the first half of his career in higher education in teaching and the second half in administration. During that same timeframe, he pursued a parallel career in law and legal education. He served as the Supreme Court Fellow in the chambers of Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist and is a member of numerous federal and state bars. He has been appointed as the president of five universities and provost and chief of staff at three others. Among the institutions he served have been state, private non-profit, and private for-profit universities. Included in his academic experience were two terms as a Commissioner of the regional accreditor WASC (WSCUC).
He has been appointed as the president of five universities and provost and chief of staff at three others. Among the institutions he served have been state, private non-profit, and private for-profit universities. Included in his academic experience were two terms as a Commissioner of the regional accreditor WASC (WSCUC). Dr. Ryan has led institutions through mergers, acquisitions, and affiliations that have preserved academic quality, expanded access, and strengthened long-term viability. His leadership has been marked by transparency, shared governance, and a commitment to stakeholder engagement at every stage of these processes.
He earned his Ph.D. from the University of California, Santa Barbara, his J.D. from the University of California, Berkeley, and his Dipl.GB in international business from the University of Oxford.
Edu Alliance Journal provides expert commentary and practical insights on U.S. and international higher education, focusing on innovation, policy, and institutional growth. Published by Edu Alliance, a consulting firm with offices in the United States and the United Arab Emirates, the Journal reflects the organization’s mission to help colleges, universities, and educational organizations achieve sustainable success through strategic partnerships, market intelligence, and program development.
BELOIT, Wis. — As Chris Hooker eyed a newly built piece of ductwork inside Beloit Memorial High School, a wry smile crept over his face. “If you worked for me,” he told a student, considering the obviously crooked vent, “I might ask if your level was broken.”
Hooker, the HVAC manager of Lloyd’s Plumbing and Heating Corp. in nearby Janesville, was standing inside a hangar-sized classroom in the school’s advanced manufacturing academy, where students construct full-size rooms, hang drywall and learn the basics of masonry. His company sends him to the school twice a week for about two months a year to help teach general heating, venting and air conditioning concepts to students.
“I cover the mountaintop stuff,” he said, noting that at a minimum students will understand HVAC when they become homeowners.
But the bigger potential payoff is that these students could wind up working alongside Hooker after they graduate. If his firm has an opening, any student recommended by teacher Mike Wagner would be a “done deal,” Hooker said. “Plus, if they come through this class, I know them.”
Manufacturing and construction dominate the business needs inside Beloit, a small city of 36,000 just minutes from the Illinois border. Sitting at the nexus of two major highways, and within 100 miles of Chicago, Milwaukee and Madison, Beloit is home to a range of businesses that include a Frito-Lay production plant, an Amazon distribution center and a Navy subcontractor. In the next two years, a $500 million casino and hotel complex is scheduled to open.
But staffing these companies into the future is a major concern. Across the country, the average age of manufacturing workers is increasing, and one in four of these workers is age 55 or older, according to U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics’ 2021 figures, the most recent available. In many other jobs the workforce is aging, too. Wisconsin is one of several states looking to boost career and technical education, or CTE, as a possible solution to the aging and shrinking workforce.
Having industry standard machines is a key part of Beloit Memorial High School’s manufacturing program; here a student uses a JET metalworking machine to create precise cuts for his project. Credit: Wayne D’Orio for The Hechinger Report
While the unemployment rate of Rock County, which includes Beloit, is 3.6 percent, only slightly higher than the state’s 3.2 percent, there’s a worker mismatch in the city, according to Drew Pennington, its economic development director.
Every day, 14,000 city residents travel outside of Beloit to work, while the same number commute into the city to fill mostly higher-paying jobs, said Pennington.
So when Beloit decided to revamp its public high school in 2018, CTE and work-based learning were at the forefront of the transformation.
The 1,225-student school now has three academies that cover 13 different career paths. After ninth grade, students choose to concentrate in an area, which means taking several courses in a specific field. Students also have the option to do work-based learning, which can mean internships, a youth apprenticeship or working at high-end simulated job sites inside the school.
“This creates not just a pipeline to jobs but also to career choices,” said Jeff Stenroos, the district’s director of CTE and alternative education.
“There are a lot of really good-paying jobs in this area. Students don’t need to leave, or go earn a four-year degree,” Stenroos said. An auto mechanic can “earn six figures by the age of 26 and that’s more than an educator with a master’s degree,” he said.
Beloit’s effort is a shift in high school emphasis similar to the extensive CTE programs being run in other places, notably Indiana, Kentucky and Alabama. In 2024, 40 states enacted 152 CTE-related policies, the biggest push in five years, according to Advance CTE, a nonprofit group that represents state CTE officials. Nationwide, about 20 percent of high school students take a concentration of CTE courses, it says, adding that the high school graduation rate for students who concentrate in CTE is 90 percent, 15 percentage points higher than the national average.
Three years ago, Wisconsin called for 7 percent of its high school students to be in workplace learning programs by 2026. Beloit’s progress puts it far ahead of that target. In Beloit Memorial, nearly 1 in 3 students meet this designation today, Stenroos said.
The high school features a cavernous construction area where students build full-scale rooms, learn masonry and complete plumbing and electrical wiring projects. The metal shop offers 16 welding stations and a die-cutter machine that allows students to create customized pieces to fit projects. Down the street, the school runs an eight-bay car repair center, a space it took over when a Sears autobody shop left town.
These spaces are “better than a lot of technical colleges,” Stenroos said.
In addition to their high school courses, Beloit Memorial students pile up industry-recognized certifications, Stenroos said. More than 40 percent of its students graduate with at least one certification, and 1 in 4 of them has multiple certifications.
While some simple certifications, such as OSHA Workplace Safety, can be accomplished in just 10 hours, others, such as those for the American Welding Society, require up to 500 hours of student work, he added. The state has called for 9 percent of graduating high school students to have earned at least one certification by next year. To incentivize schools to offer these opportunities, the state’s Department of Workforce Development pays schools for each student who earns a certification; in 2024, Beloit received $85,000 through this program, Stenroos said.
One of the school’s best automotive students, Geiry Lopez, graduated this year with five Automotive Service Excellence certifications. Standing less than 5 feet tall, Lopez said she is not bothered that she might not look like a typical mechanic. “I know I can do this,” she said, adding that she hopes to work on heavy machinery such as tractor trailers after she graduates.
She’s worked on her own car, with some fellow students, replacing the brakes, a front axle, rotors and wheel bearings at the school’s garage, she said, although she still hasn’t been able to drive it.
“My dad is taking forever to teach me how to drive,” she said.
The garage operates like an actual business, but the only customers are teachers and other Beloit staffers and students. Students estimate work costs, order parts and communicate with customers before any repairs take place. While oil changes and brake replacements are common, some students are totally rebuilding an engine in one car.
Over in the welding room, rising senior Cole Mellom was putting the finishing touches on a smoker he built in less than a month’s time. He said he loved the creativity of finding a plan, cutting the metal and building something that he could sell, all while in school. Plus, he knows that welding is a key skill needed for his dream job, race-car fabrication.
Officials revamped the Beloit Memorial High School in 2018 to funnel students into academies that are connected to jobs in the area and the state. Credit: Wayne D’Orio for The Hechinger Report
In the past, students created a custom-made protective plate that the city’s police use on a bomb squad vehicle.
The welding program has 125 students this year and had to turn away 65 more because of space limitations, Stenroos said; last year, 17 of the school’s welding academy graduates enlisted in the armed forces to specialize in welding.
These programs are designed to help meet the future needs of the state’s workforce. More than one-third of Wisconsin jobs will require education beyond high school but less than a bachelor’s degree by 2031, according to the Association for Career and Technical Education. For the last four years, the state has had more job openings than people on unemployment.
“There’s more jobs than there are people to fill them right now,” said Deb Prowse, a former career academy coach at Beloit Memorial who now works at Craftsman with Character, an area nonprofit that helps train students for careers in skilled trades.
Hooker, the Lloyd’s Plumbing HVAC manager, agreed. “Every project we work on has a delay, from a multimillion-dollar mansion to a three-bedroom spec,” he said. “There aren’t enough workers.”
The main reason Beloit Memorial has been able to zoom past state and national goals for both CTE and work-based learning is the school’s single-minded focus since 2018 on helping to ensure that its graduates will understand what businesses need and giving them a head start toward gaining those skills.
High school officials actually pared back the program from 44 pathways to 13, Stenroos said, part of an effort to tie each pathway to specific jobs. About 75 percent of pathways target area jobs, with the remaining quarter highlighting prominent professions within the state, he added.
Even though three straight budget referendum defeats have left the district with a $6.2 million funding gap, Stenroos said he’s been able to keep the CTE equipment modernized through donations and strategic allocation of the school’s federal Perkins grant and the state reimbursement for student certifications. In one instance, the school recently bought a $20,000 scanner for its automotive program; the machine can not only help diagnose a car problem, but also connect students to garages throughout the country that have successfully fixed the specified problem.
“It’s an expensive piece of equipment,” Stenroos said, “but it’s industry-certified and will give students real-life experience.”
Each of the three academies has an advisory board of teachers and industry professionals who work out how to embed practical lessons in classroom curriculum. “We ask business people, ‘What do you need, and how can we help our kids get there?’” said Stenroos.
“It’s really cool how receptive the school is to feedback,” said Heather Dobson, the business development manager at Corporate Contractors, Inc., a 200-person general contracting firm.
She explained that the district has incorporated small changes over the years, such as having students work in Microsoft programs instead of Google Classroom apps and teaching them how to write a professional email.
“Rarely is there an idea presented that they don’t embrace,” said Celestino Ruffini, the CEO of Visit Beloit, a nonprofit that promotes tourism of the city. The school is expanding its hospitality program because of the expected influx of jobs connected to the new casino and hotel, he said.
All the changes aren’t at the high school, however. In order to employ Beloit Memorial students, Frito-Lay had to alter its corporate policy of not allowing anyone under 18 to work in its plants, according to Angela Slagle, a supply chain manager there. The company now hires Beloit Memorial students for its career exploration youth apprenticeship program, she added.
The connection to area businesses goes beyond the school’s leaders. Each year, about 10 teachers complete an externship in which they spend one week of their summer at a local business. Teachers are paid $1,000 for the 20 hours, and they not only learn about what jobs a company may have but also find ways to incorporate real-world problems into their classroom lessons.
A few summers back, math teacher Michelle Kelly spent a week at Corporate Contractors. She was searching for different ways to use construction-based math problems with her students. In addition to using math to estimate a bid for a project or calculate the surface area of a job, she realized that complex math is needed to build a truss, the framework used to support a roof or bridge.
Because the triangular truss is supported by different lengths of wood inside its structure, Kelly said, building one requires the calculation of angles, total area, how much wood is needed and more. Since all her algebra students were in the school’s construction academy, she partnered with those teachers to go beyond blueprints and have the 10th graders build trusses, a collection of which sit in the back of her classroom.
A student’s detailed outline for creating a truss in Michelle Kelly’s 10th grade algebra class at Beloit Memorial High School, which is embracing career and technical education. Credit: Wayne D’Orio for The Hechinger Report
She sees this work as one way to help counter the chronic absenteeism that has existed since Covid. Teaching with this kind of hands-on work makes students see the relevance of algebra, she said. “Would it be easier to just have them take a test? Yes.”
Beloit Memorial Principal Emily Pelz said the school’s work is paying off. In the last four years, the school’s four-year graduation rate has ticked up slightly, from 83.4 percent in 2021-22 to 85.2 percent in 2024-25, while its attendance went from 78.5 percent to 84.8 percent in the same period, Pelz said.
Rik Thomas, a rising senior who already has his own business repairing and modifying cars, said this work has definitely made him more interested in school. While he thought the academy would merely explain what a construction career might include, “It’s nice to find out how to do the work.” His father works in construction and, Thomas added, “He loves that I take this program.”
Thomas and his classmates built a wooden shed earlier this year and were able to sell it for $2,500, with the money going to pay for more materials. Likewise, the first smoker created in the welding class was bought by Stenroos; the students are looking forward to posting the second one for sale after they determine how much they should charge.
While the school’s construction and other trade-related fields have drawn the most attention, its three academies also offer career paths in healthcare, education, business, the arts, hospitality and more.
For example, rising senior Tayvon Cates said he hopes to study pre-med at a historically Black college or university on his way to becoming a cardiology radiologist. Cates, who is in the school’s health and education academy, said, “If you want to do something, the school can help you do it.”
The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.
As a higher education professional with a background in writing and rhetoric, I frame my work in career and professional development in terms of communication, such as helping trainees translate their skills to the language of employers, convey complex research to audiences beyond their fields and forge professional selves through the written and digital texts they produce. By training, I often think about how texts produce effects on readers and the design choices writers make to engage those audiences.
At a time when higher education faces great adversity, I find myself reflecting on the value of writing about career and professional development work in a venue such as “Carpe Careers”: Why write about graduate and postdoc career and professional development? How does this writing translate the impact of our work to different audiences? In this piece, I outline what we do when we write about graduate and postdoc career and professional development and why we should keep writing about this work.
Writing to Empower Graduate and Postdoctoral Scholars
As career and professional development leaders, we sometimes feel frustrated that the impact of our work seems limited to one institution or program. For example, we might be the office of one at our institution and concerned about the scalability of advising appointments or low attendance at workshops. Writing about best practices for career and professional development can expand the reach of our advice to online audiences worldwide.
These essential topics continue to be necessary and relevant to new generations of graduate and postdoctoral readers because they make visible the hidden curriculum of academia and the world of work. Our work gives learners the tools to navigate these spaces with confidence, supplementing the efforts of mentors, coaches and instructional workshops. Likewise, when we write about professional development, we attend to the holistic flourishing of graduate and postdoctoral scholars by centering topics such as mental well-being on the job search, coping with the culture shock of career transitions or the power of rest. We not only give learners practical advice for the next steps in their careers but also cultivate virtual community and belonging for graduate and postdoctoral trainees facing common challenges and pursuing similar goals.
Writing to Support Fellow Practitioners
When we write about career and professional development, we put our own spin on old chestnut topics by drawing on our backgrounds, identities and experiences. For example, this recent piece reframes professional networking as a form of evidence-gathering and scientific research, leveraging the authors’ training in science. Putting our own spins on standard topics of career transitions and exploration can help us create a distinct personal professional brand as practitioners: How have we synthesized our own stories and the wisdom of others to support current graduate and postdoc trainees? What do we want to be known for as graduate and postdoc career development leaders?
Beyond enriching individual professional identities, when we write about graduate and postdoc career and professional development, we also reflect on how our work with graduate and postdoctoral trainees is changing and identify opportunities for innovation, from the pros and cons of using generative AI tools for career-related activities to advice for supporting international job seekers. We likewise showcase innovative approaches to implementing career and professional development for graduate and postdoctoral learners, such as how to tailor experiential learning, alumni mentoring and badging programs to these populations.
By reflecting on our practice and how we have adapted to challenges, this writing becomes a form of professional development for us, as it enriches the dynamic fields of graduate and postdoc career and professional development and extends our conversations from professional organizations and conferences to wider, virtual communities of practitioners. For instance, recent “Carpe Careers” pieces have highlighted administrative postdoc and “meta” postdoc roles as entry points to career development and related academic administrative work, defining new positions through the perspectives of those who hold these inaugural roles and shaping the futures of work in our fields. When we address practitioners as an audience, writing about career and professional development creates a virtual community of practice where we highlight emerging trends and offer support for one another’s professional growth.
Writing to Engage Stakeholders
Writing for fellow graduate and postdoc career practitioners elevates our work and sets the stage to convey its value to stakeholders, such as faculty and senior administrators whose support is crucial for campus career and professional development initiatives. The external recognition from a piece in a venue such as “Carpe Careers” can lead to greater internal recognition for our programs and offices. For example, when I wrote a “Carpe Careers” post on professional thank-you notes for Thanksgiving week 2024, a University of Pittsburgh newswire service highlighted it in a newsletter, and a vice provost invited me to present on writing thank-yous at a faculty retreat.
Beyond our campuses, when we write about graduate and postdoctoral career development, we communicate the value of our efforts to stakeholders outside higher education, such as employers, policymakers and the public. As Celia Whitchurch observed, graduate and postdoc career and professional development work occupies a third space in higher education amid academic, student affairs and administrative functions, so it is often overlooked and less understood than more conventional academic or student life initiatives.
Writing about our work situates it—and by extension the experiences of graduate and postdoctoral scholars—in the wider ecosystems of higher education and the workforce. This writing can educate stakeholders who are less familiar with the work of career and professional development, highlighting our contributions to graduate and postdoctoral learners’ success, and thereby helping us advocate for greater visibility and resources. When we write about graduate and postdoc career and professional development, we underscore the value of our work and its impacts on trainees, higher education and the wider society.
Writing for and as Change
Writing about graduate and postdoc career and professional development positions us as change agents, championing trainees’ holistic success and envisioning what our field could be. In this writing, we hold space for courageous conversations in difficult times, such as supporting learners through recent disruptions, reflecting on activism as a form of professional development and highlighting the entrepreneurial potential of our trainees amid economic uncertainty. Whether we address learners, fellow practitioners or broader stakeholders, when we write about career and professional development, we let ourselves dream about our careers and those of trainees, not only advocating for change but also modeling what change looks like through our advice, our programmatic innovations and our support for the broader enterprise of higher education.
In short, writing about graduate and postdoc career and professional development is an affirmation of advanced degrees, higher education and the work of practitioners who support these learners’ long-term professional flourishing. This writing can be rewarding, as it scales up the impact of our advice, enriches professional communities and elevates the profile of career and professional development work. It can be bold, as it envisions and embodies positive change in our areas of practice. For “Carpe Careers” readers who are writers, why do you write about graduate and postdoc career and professional development? For “Carpe” readers who are considering writing about their work, when will you start?
Katie Homar is the assistant director of the Office of Academic Career Development, Health Sciences, at the University of Pittsburgh. She is a member of the Graduate Career Consortium—an organization providing an international voice for graduate-level career and professional development leaders.
Each May, hundreds of thousands of high school students from across the United States take the Advanced Placement exam for English Literature and Composition. Each June, hundreds of high school and college English instructors gather for a week to score them. The three-hour exam consists of two parts: a multiple-choice section and a section with three essays (analyses of poetry and fiction and a literary argument essay).
This year, for the third time, I was one of the essay graders. What follows are my unvarnished thoughts from the week, presented anonymously—because I might want to get invited back to grade again.
Day 1
My plane to Salt Lake City is delayed, so I arrive at my hotel well after midnight. My assigned roommate is fast asleep. We have the option of staying in a single room, but only if we pay half.
The alarm goes off at 7. My roommate and I introduce ourselves as he exits the shower. He is ready to go well before me. He’s a first-timer.
I head over to the convention center. At 8 a.m. sharp, hundreds of us gather in a large auditorium for orientation. The chief reader—a professor at a Baptist college—seems a genial enough person. He goes over the week’s game plan via PowerPoint (“read every essay like it’s your first”), makes sundry bureaucratic announcements and introduces the other managers (“assistant readers,” “table leaders,” etc.). Peals of applause burst out frequently, lending the proceedings a summer camp air. To cap things off, the chief reader puts up photos of his dog.
The reading room—the size of an airplane hangar, with cement floors and high ceilings hung with banks of fluorescent lights—is divided into four or five sections of probably around 100 people each. Each section is enclosed by black curtains supported by metal rods. Readers are grouped eight to a table, each with a laptop.
I admit I’m not in the most chipper mood after the short night’s sleep. The enthusiastic vibe can’t help, either. I grab a cup of free coffee (very low quality), take my seat and introduce myself to the woman seated next to me, a high school teacher from Texas. Then our peppy table leader comes over. “Hi, yeah, sorry, would you mind putting your coffee on the floor? We’re trying to be careful with the laptops.” I sigh and glance around to see other tables with coffee cups and bottles on them. I put my cup on the floor. We spend much of the first day training—watching videos, practicing on sample essays, tuning our brains to AP standards.
Day 2
As I sit in the reading room, time crawls; with no windows it could be 3 in the morning for all I know. The novelty has worn off and the grind has set in. Is this what a real job is like? I improvise a routine to manage the boredom: Along with the scheduled 15-minute breaks in the morning and afternoon, every 30 or 40 minutes I get up to walk around, check my phone, stare into space.
The other readers seem to be mostly high school teachers. They seem well adapted to the AP regimen, and to regimentation. Many wear T-shirts with pro-literacy or pro-reading themes. I’d estimate that about two-thirds of the scorers are women. That fits with the service-heavy load female professors typically shoulder at most universities.
We are served three free meals a day, buffet-style, all you can eat. There’s a strange symmetry with our daily work—all the exams you can score from a never-ending supply. As my waistline expands, I feel my brain shrinking. The buffet lines are staffed by an army of food service workers, mostly Hispanic or Asian, who bring out metal trays and various tureens from mysterious kitchens for our breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as the coffee and snacks for our scheduled breaks. The working class works for us, the petit bourgeois, as we help classify the next generation as either part of the future lower middle or upper middle class.
As we filter back into the reading room after lunch, the chief reader addresses us over a PA system, thanking us for returning on time, reminding us to score carefully, regaling us with a choice quote or two.
Day 3
I breakfast with my roommate and a few of his reading-table mates. He really is the nicest person. They invite me to karaoke later. A few drinks would be nice, though I can’t fathom singing after this kind of work.
I read (or scan, actually) more than 100 essays per day. On average, one or two offer something insightful or fluent. The rest either scrape by, or don’t. Many in fact are aborted on takeoff—a sentence or two, maybe a phrase, sometimes nothing at all. Probably 10 to 15 percent are these kind of no-show efforts. It makes me wonder why these students take this test. Do they get extra class credit for merely showing up? To quote from a favorite Scorsese movie, “Qui bono?”
I continually hear the crinkling of candy and other snacks—provided free by AP, and replenished daily—being unwrapped. This is in addition to the free, all-you-can-eat meals and snacks during breaks.
The assistant reader hovers around the tables in our section like a wary exam proctor, watching us for who knows what. This afternoon, the third day of the reading, the computers go down. With nothing to do, I pull out my phone and start reading an article on the author of a literary selection our exams are based on. My friendly table leader comes over. “Let’s please put away our phones.” I scoff and return to reading the article. A few minutes later the assistant reader sidles up to me. “Please put away your phone.” Before I can reply she has moved away.
The silent whistle finally blows at 5. We stream out of the reading room and down the long corridors of the convention center like mill workers at the end of the day shift. We enter the dining hall or drift outside into the sunny and warm late afternoon. I head straight to the hotel fitness center, the stress of the day evaporating with each set, recharging for another day, just like my Motorola plugged into the hotel room nightstand.
Later that evening my roommate returns to our room (“karaoke was great!”) and asks me if I want to go tomorrow night. I beg off again (I plead achoraphobia—fear of public singing).
Day 4
Salt Lake City—capital of the Beehive State. At lunch I skip the dining hall and make a beeline outside to get some much-needed air and sun. I make my way to Temple Square, the Mormon Vatican. Groups of tourists mix in with groups of name-tagged believers. The temple itself is swaddled in scaffolding. I watch the giant cranes convey building materials to men 10 stories up. A plaque on the Brigham Young Monument records the names of the original 1847 Mormon pioneers. One of them is my great-great-great-great-grandfather.
Of course, working as an AP exam reader is entirely voluntary. I need extra money this year to pay off some taxes. Scorers make $30 an hour. With overtime—we get paid time and a half on days six and seven—I’ll make about $2,000, before taxes.
After the 5 o’clock whistle, I go back to the hotel room and blast rock music from the TV so I can feel something (The Strokes’ “Room on Fire” and Greta Van Fleet’s “From the Fires”). The day’s strain melts away.
Day 5
Every few days we are tested to make sure we are scoring “accurately.” “Calibration” involves scoring a set of six sample exams—and if you score them as an “expert” reader would, you pass. If you don’t, you get sent to remediation. A few members of my table seem genuinely worried. When I arrive to our table this morning (I am always the last to arrive) my neighbor, the high school teacher from Texas, greets me with some tension in her voice: “We’re calibrating today!” I score my set like I don’t give a damn, and pass. One of my table mates disappears for a couple hours.
In the afternoon the chief reader makes his most serious announcement—apparently someone has been posting photos of the reading on social media, which is a big no-no. AP has to preserve the “integrity” of its tests, of course. Its Lloyd’s of London–type image is key to that integrity, it seems.
Most essays are painfully incoherent, ungrammatical. Many, as previously mentioned, are incomplete.
Still we read them, one after another—we scorers are the English teachers of the future, in the wet dreams of the likes of Elon Musk. All of us readers are in our field because we love reading—and here we are, scanning endless variations on a single passage from a single novel, our love being milked to a slow death, dairy cows once impregnated with passion now tightly corralled into an assembly line and hooked up to machines.
Like the character Thomas Bradshaw in the brief excerpt the AP essays are based on (from the novel The Bradshaw Variations by Rachel Cusk), most of the essays leave us wanting. We will never see the wife for whom Thomas is waiting in the kitchen; we will never experience their reunion, or the development of their relationship. Like Thomas, we marinate in limbo. Like the static but frantic figures on Keats’s Grecian urn, we chase, we desire, but never consummate.
Day 6
The other members of my table pass around a greeting card for everyone to sign for our table leader. They also take up cash donations for a gift. I sign the card.
The computer servers crash and scoring comes to a halt. I have a feeling of relief, like for extra recess or a snow day.
Day 7
Over the course of the week, I’ve given a perfect score to just a handful of exams. Is this how we’re educating the best and brightest, these college students of the near future? Are the vaunted humanities—assailed for years from without—rotting from within? I get a few exams in which the student does not offer an essay, but instead a rant about the meaninglessness of the AP exam itself. These could be mere excuses, but the voices that emerge from these exams are funny, searching, thoughtful.
“Look beneath the façade of affable confidence and seamless well-adjustment that today’s elite students have learned to project, and what you often find are toxic levels of fear, anxiety and depression, of emptiness and aimlessness and isolation,” William Deresiewicz wrote in Excellent Sheep. “We all know about the stressed-out, overpressured high school student; why do we assume that things get better once she gets to college?”
The author is a professor of English at a regional public university in the eastern United States.
