In “The Doctoral Dilemma” (Feb. 3, 2025), Inside Higher Ed reporter Johanna Alonso describes career coaching as a “cottage industry” of “gurus” that emerged to fill critical gaps in graduate training. As a career coach cited in the article, I was disappointed to see such an inaccurate and biased portrayal of my work.
Coaching is a professional industry with proven methods, tools, and credentialing provided by the International Coaching Federation (ICF). Coaching is distinct from “consulting,” and it’s an intentional, strategic step for anyone seeking to change careers. This is why Johns Hopkins University employs coaches as part of its Doctoral Life Design Studio. Yet, the article portrays these university-led coaching initiatives as legitimate, structured and holistic, while describing coaching outside of the university as an opportunistic “cottage industry.” Why frame the same service in two very different ways?
From our wide-ranging, 20-minute interview, Alonso only highlighted my hourly rate—$250/hour for a single one-to-one meeting—without any context. There is no mention of the benefits of career coaching, or whether universities like Johns Hopkins pay their coaches a similar rate. The monetary cost, presented in isolation, suggests exploitation. The reality? As a neurodivergent person, I find one-to-one meetings draining, so I’ve priced them to limit bookings. Instead, I direct Ph.D.s toward my free library of online content, my lower-cost group programs and my discounted coaching packages, all of which have helped Ph.D.s secure industry roles that double or triple their academic salaries. The article doesn’t include these details.
The most telling sign of the article’s bias is the use of the word “guru.” Why use a loaded term like “guru” instead of “expert” to describe career coaches? As I frequently remind my clients, language shapes perception. Ph.D.s are more likely to be seen as industry-ready professionals if they use terms like “multi-year research project” instead of “dissertation” or “stakeholders” instead of “academic advisers.” The same logic applies here—calling career coaches “gurus” trivializes our work, implying we are self-appointed influencers rather than qualified professionals. I’ll never forget the professor who once tweeted, “If life outside of academia is so great, why do alt-ac gurus spend so much time talking about it? Don’t they have better things to do?”
My response? “I wouldn’t have to do this if professors provided ANY professional development for non-academic careers.”
Because contrary to what the article claims, I didn’t start my coaching business because I wished there were more resources available to me. I started it because, after I quit my postdoctoral fellowship for an industry career, I spent untold hours providing uncompensated career support to Ph.D.s. For nearly two years, I responded to thousands of messages, created online resources, reviewed résumés and met one-to-one with hundreds of Ph.D. students, postdocs and even tenured professors—all for free, in my leisure time. Eventually, I burned out from the incessant demand. I realized that, if I was going to continue pouring my time into helping Ph.D.s, I needed to be compensated. That’s when I started my business.
Academia conditions us to see for-profit businesses as unethical, while “nonprofit” universities push students into a lifetime of high-interest debt. It convinces us that charging for expertise is predatory, while asking Ph.D.s to work for poverty wages is somehow noble. It forces us to internalize the idea that, if you truly care about something, you should sacrifice your well-being and life for it. But our time is valuable. Our skills are valuable. We deserve to be fairly compensated for our labor, inside and outside of academia.
Career coaching isn’t the problem. The real problem is that academia still refuses to take a critical look in the mirror.
CHRISTCHURCH, New Zealand — Many students in New Zealand have a story to tell about “streaming” — being grouped into separate math classes based on their perceived ability to master the subject.
Manaaki Waretini-Beaumont, now 18 and an environmental science major at the University of Canterbury, learned about the downside of streaming when she enrolled in Avonside Girls’, a 1,000-student high school in Christchurch.
Avonside starts at Year 9, equivalent to eighth grade in the United States, and ends at Year 13, equivalent to 12th grade. Before the start of her Year 9 term, Waretini-Beaumont and her fellow students were divided up into groups to take tests in “maths,” reading comprehension, and patterns and shapes.
Afterward, the students were separated into lettered groups that spelled out the word B-I-N-O-C-U-L-A-R-S. Waretini-Beaumont was a “9-N” student in mathematics — as she describes it, “the top of the middle block.”
But she said she didn’t feel comfortable as one of the few Māori students in the class.
“I felt like I wasn’t good enough to be in that space,” said Waretini-Beaumont, whose iwi, or tribal affiliations, are Te Āti Haunui-A-Pāpārangi, Ngāti Rangi, Ngāti Apa, Ngāti Paoa. “If there was something I wasn’t understanding, I felt like I wasn’t able to say that, because I’m supposed to be in the smart class with all these smart people.”
So she shifted to another mathematics class with her Māori friends, who were in the “S” classes.
“Being in two different spaces, I could really see the change,” Waretini-Beaumont said. “At the top classes, the teachers’ language towards the students was always positive and it was always encouraging. And they really wanted students to learn and were trying to help them.”
Manaaki Waretini-Beaumont experienced the effects of “streaming,” or academic ability tracking, during her time as a high school student at Avonside Girls’ School in Christchurch, New Zealand. Credit: Image provided by Richie Mills/Ngāi Tahu
In the classroom where her friends were assigned, in contrast, the mathematics work mostly amounted to simple worksheets — “coloring pages and word find,” Waretini-Beaumont said.
For years, much like in the United States, New Zealand has worried about sliding student proficiency in mathematics, as captured by both national and international test scores. Later this month — the beginning of the New Zealand school year — the country is launching an overhaul of mathematics instruction that education leaders hope will reverse the trend.
But other groups in the country have been trying to approach the problem of academic achievement from a different angle. They believe that streaming is driving achievement gaps in the country, including in mathematics. Tokona te Raki/Māori Futures Collective, a think tank focused on youth, has been working since 2019 to persuade schools to voluntarily end the practice by 2030. The initiative is called “Kōkirihia”— Māori for “take action.”
Streaming is just one of many ways that schools group students by academic ability. Ability grouping can include separating students into vocational or university tracks at different schools as early as age 10, as is common in Germany and other Western European countries. But it could also include teachers creating informal and non-permanent groupings within their own classrooms to provide enrichment or extra support to students who need it.
In New Zealand, critics say streaming pushes two groups into so-called “cabbage,” or lower-level mathematics, at a disproportionate rate: Māori students, who are indigenous to New Zealand, and students who are Pasifika, the New Zealand term for people from Samoa, Tonga and other nations in the Pacific Islands.
In the 14th century, the Polynesian ancestors of today’s Māori migrated thousands of miles by canoe to what they called Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud. Hundreds of years later, English settlers came to engage in trade and now represent the majority ethnic group in New Zealand. In 1840, the two groups signed the Treaty of Waitangi that established New Zealand’s bicultural identity.
Many youth with Pacific Island backgrounds are descended from people who were encouraged to move to New Zealand after World War II to address a labor shortage.
Both Māori and Pasifika are a fast-growing, and young, population. By the 2040s, more than a third of children in the country are expected to identify as Māori, according to Stats NZ, the country’s official data agency.
The New Zealand Ministry of Education’s official stance discourages streaming, but the country’s more than 2,500 schools operate with a great deal of independence: Principals have similar powers and responsibilities as school superintendents in the United States, and each school has an elected board that sets policy and manages budgets.
New Zealand does not track streaming or ability grouping by race or ethnicity, but surveys show it is common: Eighty percent of students are in schools that group students by ability level in mathematics, according to a 2022 survey conducted by the Program for International Student Assessment.
Other data shows a wide academic gap among students of different ethnicities in New Zealand.
Students at May Road School in Auckland, New Zealand, work through a lesson on fractions. Credit: Becki Moss for The Hechinger Report
In the Auckland region, the country’s most densely populated of 16 regions in all, 76 percent of Asian students left secondary school with the highest of three levels on the country’s National Certificate of Educational Achievement in 2022. Like a high school diploma, the NCEA Level 3 is a minimum qualification to enter college in New Zealand.
About 66 percent of Pākehā, or white, students left school with that credential. About 46 percent of Pasifika students and 40 percent of Māori students did the same.
In comparison, the high school graduation rate by race and ethnicity in the United States in the 2021-22 school year was 94 percent for Asian American/Pacific Islander students, 90 percent for white students, 83 percent for Hispanic students, 81 percent for Black students and 74 percent for American Indian/Alaskan Native students.
Misbah Sadat, the newly appointed principal at Kuranui College, a high school 50 miles northeast of the capital of Wellington, began actively working to “destream” mathematics courses soon after emigrating to New Zealand in 2009 and becoming a teacher there.
As head of mathematics at a high school called Horowhenua College, she started by identifying promising Māori students on her own, moving them to higher level classes, and mentoring them, as described in a Ministry of Education newsletter.
Eventually she convinced her colleagues at Horowhenua to create mixed-ability classes rather than dividing the students. She continued the same work as deputy principal at Onslow College in suburban Wellington, where she worked before her new appointment.
The streaming practice comes from a patronizing mindset, said Sadat, who was also a math teacher in Montgomery County, Maryland.
Schools are telling parents that their children might be lost and overwhelmed in a more rigorous class. In actuality, “We have demoted some students to learn crap,” she said. “And then we are saying that at age 16, ‘You are dumb at maths.’ How dare we decide what a young person is capable of or not capable of?”
Students at Kaiapoi North School in suburban Christchurch, New Zealand, work through a multiplication problem in chalk on the playground blacktop. Credit: Becki Moss for The Hechinger Report
Both of New Zealand’s unions for elementary and secondary teachers signed onto the pledge to end streaming by 2030. In a newsletter to members, the elementary teachers union noted that its members have noticed “a sense of ingrained hopelessness that comes with being in the ‘cabbage’ classes.”
But in the same newsletter, another teacher said educators struggle with the mix of abilities in one classroom, along with managing behavior challenges.
David Pomeroy, a senior lecturer in education at the University of Canterbury in Christchurch, is studying schools that have committed to reducing their reliance on streaming.
It’s a difficult task, he said. So many teachers are accustomed to the practice, since they went through it in school themselves. Parents of students in high-level classes are worried their children will be shortchanged. Teachers also say that it is easier to work with students who are all roughly on the same skill level.
And then there is an emotional connection to the practice, Pomeroy said. Unlike in the United States, lower-level mathematics classes are often taught by teachers who have a lot of classroom experience and who express real fondness for their students, he said. Pushing students too hard is seen as setting them up for repeated failure, which teachers were reluctant to do.
Abby Zonneveld’s bulletin board at St. Clair School in Dunedin, New Zealand, asked students to describe their “tūrangawaewae,” or place where they feel a special connection. Credit: Becki Moss for The Hechinger Report
“Even if they accepted streaming wasn’t the right next step, they wanted to protect them from anything that could damage their confidence,” Pomeroy said.
For schools that have made a commitment to reducing or ending streaming, he said, one useful tool has been to bring mathematics teachers in different schools together so they can work through challenges, such as lesson planning, and share successes.
The research into the benefits or harms of academic tracking or streaming show mixed results. In 2016, a group of researchers compiled all the best U.S-based research on ability grouping and acceleration at that point, going back for a century. They found certain kinds of ability grouping, such as placing highly gifted students together, was a benefit to those students. But grouping students in high- or low-performing classes did not show any benefit or detriment for students.
The New Zealand Initiative, a right-of-center think tank, said that the country should conduct its own research on the effects of streaming in the country, rather than relying primarily on research done elsewhere and on qualitative reports that primarily capture feelings about the practice. “Research suggests that lowerstream students are often taught less engaging content by less experienced teachers. So, it may not be streaming itself that increases gaps in achievement but streaming done poorly,” the initiative said in a report.
But the efforts to reduce streaming voluntarily seem to be catching on.
When looking at all academic subjects, not just mathematics, principals on a 2022 PISA survey said 67 percent of students in New Zealand are grouped by ability into different classes for at least some subjects. That’s a drop from 2015, when 90 percent of principals reported that students were grouped into different classes in their schools.
The change is welcome, said Waretini-Beaumont, who works on social media for Tokona te Raki. Streaming “has more impact than just cutting off some opportunities and stopping someone from doing calculus,” she said. “Our grandparents have been streamed and they don’t know it was even a thing. They just thought they were dumb.”
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Promoting sustainability literacy in higher education is crucial for deepening students’ pro-environmental behaviour and mindset (Buckler & Creech, 2014; UNESCO, 1997), while also fostering social transformation by embedding sustainability at the core of the student experience. In 2022, our group received an SRHE Scoping Award to synthesise the literature on the development, teaching, and assessment of sustainability literacy in non-STEM higher education programmes. We conducted a multilingual systematic review of post-2010 publications from the European Higher Education Area (EHEA), with the results summarised in Kalocsányiová et al (2024).
Out of 6,161 articles that we identified as potentially relevant, 92 studies met the inclusion criteria and are reviewed in the report. These studies involved a total of 11,790 participants and assessed 9,992 university programmes and courses. Our results suggest a significant growth in research interest in sustainability in non-STEM fields since 2017, with 75 studies published compared to just 17 in the preceding seven years. Our analysis also showed that Spain, the United Kingdom, Germany, Turkey, and Austria had the highest concentration of publications, with 25 EHEA countries represented in total. The 92 reviewed studies were characterised by high methodological diversity: nearly half employed quantitative methods (47%), followed by qualitative studies (40%) and mixed methods research (13%). Curriculum assessments using quantitative content analysis of degree and course descriptors were among the most common study types, followed by surveys and intervention or pilot studies. Curriculum assessments provided a systematic way to evaluate the presence or absence of sustainability concepts within curricula at both single HE institutions and in comparative frameworks. However, they often captured only surface-level indications of sustainability integration into undergraduate and postgraduate programmes, without providing evidence on actual implementation and/or the effectiveness of different initiatives. Qualitative methods, including descriptive case studies and interviews that focused on barriers, challenges, implementation strategies, and the acceptability of new sustainability literacy initiatives, made up 40% of the current research. Mixed methods studies accounted for 13% of the reviewed articles, often applying multiple assessment tools simultaneously, including quantitative sustainability competency assessment instruments combined with open-ended interviews or learning journals.
In terms of disciplines, Economics, Business, and Administrative Studies held the largest share of reviewed studies (26%), followed by Education (23%). Multiple disciplines accounted for 22% of the reviewed publications, reflecting the interconnected nature of sustainability. Finance and Accounting contributed only 6%, indicating a need for further research. Similarly, Language and Linguistics, Mass Communication and Documentation, and Social Sciences collectively represented only 12% of the reviewed studies. Creative Arts and Design with just 2% was also a niche area. Although caution should be exercised when drawing conclusions from these results, they highlight the need for more research within the underrepresented disciplines. This in turn can help promote awareness among non-STEM students, stimulate ethical discussions on the cultural dimensions of sustainability, and encourage creative solutions through interdisciplinary dialogue.
Regarding factors and themes explored, the studies focused primarily on the acquisition of sustainability knowledge and competencies (27%), curriculum assessment (23%), challenges and barriers to sustainability integration (10%), implementation and evaluation research (10%), changes in students’ mindset (9%), key competences in sustainability literacy (5%), and active student participation in Education for Sustainable Development (5%). In terms of studies discussing acquisition processes, key focus areas included the teaching of Sustainable Development Goals, awareness of macro-sustainability trends, and knowledge of local sustainability issues. Studies on sustainability competencies focussed on systems thinking, critical thinking, problem-solving skills, ethical awareness, interdisciplinary knowledge, global awareness and citizenship, communication skills, and action-oriented mindset. These competencies and knowledge, which are generally considered crucial for addressing the multifaceted challenges of sustainability (Wiek et al., 2011), were often introduced to non-STEM students through stand-alone lectures, workshops, or pilot studies involving new cross-disciplinary curricula.
Our review also highlighted a broad range of pedagogical approaches adopted for sustainability teaching and learning within non-STEM disciplines. These covered case and project-based learning, experiential learning methods, problem-based learning, collaborative learning, reflection groups, pedagogical dialogue, flipped classroom approaches, game-based learning, and service learning. While there is strong research interest in the documentation and implementation of these pedagogical approaches, few studies have so far attempted to assess learning outcomes, particularly regarding discipline-specific sustainability expertise and real-world problem-solving skills.
Many of the reviewed studies relied on single-method approaches, meaning valuable insights into sustainability-focused teaching and learning may have been missed. For instance, studies often failed to capture the complexities surrounding sustainability integration into non-STEM programs, either by presenting positivist results that require further contextualisation or by offering rich context limited to a single course or study group, which cannot be generalised. The assessment tools currently used also seemed to lack consistency, making it difficult to compare outcomes across programmes and institutions to promote best practices. More robust evaluation designs, such as longitudinal studies, controlled intervention studies, and mixed methods approaches (Gopalan et al, 2020; Ponce & Pagán-Maldonado, 2015), are needed to explore and demonstrate the pedagogical effectiveness of various sustainability literacy initiatives in non-STEM disciplines and their impact on student outcomes and societal change.
In summary, our review suggests good progress in integrating sustainability knowledge and competencies into some core non-STEM disciplines, while also highlighting gaps. Based on the results we have formulated some questions that may help steer future research:
Are there systemic barriers hindering the integration of sustainability themes, challenges and competencies into specific non-STEM fields?
Are certain disciplines receiving disproportionate research attention at the expense of others?
How do different pedagogical approaches compare in terms of effectiveness for fostering sustainability literacy in and across HE fields?
What new educational practices are emerging, and how can we fairly assess them and evidence their benefits for students and the environment?
We also would like to encourage other researchers to engage with knowledge produced in a variety of languages and educational contexts. The multilingual search and screening strategy implemented in our review enabled us to identify and retrieve evidence from 25 EHEA countries and 24 non-English publications. If reviews of education research remain monolingual (English-only), important findings and insights will go unnoticed hindering knowledge exchange, creativity, and innovation in HE.
Dr. Erika Kalocsányiová is a Senior Research Fellow with the Institute for Lifecourse Development at the University of Greenwich, with research centering on public health and sustainability communication, migration and multilingualism, refugee integration, and the implications of these areas for higher education policies.
Rania Hassan is a PhD student and a research assistant at the University of Greenwich. Her research centres on exploring enterprise development activities within emerging economies. As a multidisciplinary and interdisciplinary researcher, Rania is passionate about advancing academia and promoting knowledge exchange in higher education.
