Tag: Higher

  • Higher Education Inquirer : Remembering SNCC and CORE

    Higher Education Inquirer : Remembering SNCC and CORE

    To remember SNCC and CORE is to remember a democracy built not by elites but by everyday people—students, sharecroppers, domestic workers, bus drivers, teachers, and the poor and working class across the Jim Crow South and the segregated North. It is to remember Ella Baker’s wisdom, Diane Nash’s determination, Bob Moses’s quiet power, Fannie Lou Hamer’s moral force, James Farmer’s strategic brilliance—and also the thousands of unnamed organizers who risked everything without ever appearing in a textbook, a documentary, or a university lecture hall. Their names may not be widely known, but their work forms the backbone of the freedom struggle.

    SNCC and CORE were never celebrity movements. They were people-powered, grassroots engines of democracy. They were built by individuals who knocked on doors in rural counties where Black voter registration hovered near zero; who faced armed sheriffs, Klan mobs, and white citizens’ councils; who farmed during the day and attended movement meetings at night; who ferried activists to safe houses; who housed Freedom Riders despite threats of arson and lynching; who cooked for mass meetings; who walked into county courthouses where their presence alone was an act of political defiance. These unnamed contributors shaped history as much as the well-known leaders, and their invisibility in public memory is itself a measure of how selectively the United States remembers the struggle for justice.

    Ella Baker insisted from the beginning that the movement’s strength rested in ordinary people discovering their own power. That is why she pushed for “group-centered leadership,” refusing the myth that liberation depends on a single, heroic figure. Her practice of listening deeply—and her belief that the least recognized people held the deepest wisdom—permeated SNCC’s organizing culture. It is a challenge to institutions today, especially universities that still cling to hierarchical models of governance and expertise.

    CORE’s early commitment to interracial, nonviolent direct action emerged from a similar belief in collective action. Its activists—people like James Farmer, Bayard Rustin, and George Houser—helped introduce the tactics that would soon reverberate across the nation: sit-ins, freedom rides, boycotts, and jail-ins. CORE’s work in northern cities also exposed the hypocrisy of institutions—including universities—that claimed moral high ground while upholding segregation in housing, employment, and policing.

    SNCC’s field secretaries—Charles McDew, Ruby Doris Smith Robinson, Prathia Hall, Sam Block, and so many others—did work that higher education still struggles to fully comprehend. Their organizing went far beyond protest; it involved listening to community elders, teaching literacy classes, building independent political organizations, challenging disenfranchisement at every level, and nurturing local leadership. Behind each of those actions were dozens of unnamed individuals who opened their homes, shared their limited resources, and stood guard against retaliation.

    Remembering the unnamed is not sentimental. It is foundational. The freedom struggle was sustained by people whose names were never printed, whose stories never made the evening news, and whose families bore the consequences. Many were fired from their jobs, evicted from their homes, or harassed by police. Some disappeared from public life after the movement years, carrying trauma with little public recognition or support. Their sacrifices made the Civil Rights Movement possible, and higher education owes them a debt it has never acknowledged.

    Today’s universities still wrestle with the structures the movement confronted: racialized inequality, policing, surveillance, donor influence, and hierarchical authority. Many of the same dynamics SNCC and CORE challenged—white paternalism, economic exploitation, authoritarian governance—are alive in campus politics and in the broader “college meltdown,” where austerity, privatization, and predatory actors erode public trust and opportunity.

    To honor SNCC, CORE, and the thousands of unnamed organizers is to affirm that democracy emerges from the ground up. It means recognizing that real change requires more than symbolic gestures or PR-friendly “initiatives.” It demands revisiting Ella Baker’s core insight: strong people do not need strong leaders—they need structures that cultivate collective power.

    Remembering them means acknowledging that the freedoms we now take for granted—voting rights, desegregation, access to education—were won not by institutions, but by people who challenged institutions. And it means seeing the present clearly: that grassroots organizing, from campus movements to community struggles, remains essential to confronting the crises of inequality, debt, climate, surveillance, and governance that define our era.

    To remember SNCC and CORE is to remember not just the famous, but the countless unnamed: the hosts, the watchers, the singers, the marchers, the jailmates, the caretakers, the strategists, the frightened but determined teenagers, the elders who said “yes,” and the ones who insisted that freedom was worth the risk. Their legacy is the true measure of democracy—and a guide for what higher education must become if it is to serve justice rather than power.

    Sources

    Clayborne Carson, In Struggle: SNCC and the Black Awakening of the 1960s.

    Thomas F. Jackson, From Civil Rights to Human Rights: Martin Luther King Jr. and the Struggle for Economic Justice.

    Charles M. Payne, I’ve Got the Light of Freedom: The Organizing Tradition and the Mississippi Freedom Struggle.

    James Farmer, Lay Bare the Heart: An Autobiography of the Civil Rights Movement.

    Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters: America in the King Years.

    Barbara Ransby, Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement.

    Danielle L. McGuire, At the Dark End of the Street.

    SNCC Digital Gateway, Duke University.

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  • How U.S. Higher Education Helped Create Nick Fuentes

    How U.S. Higher Education Helped Create Nick Fuentes

    In the aftermath of each new outrage involving Nick Fuentes, pundits scramble to explain how a 20-something suburban Catholic kid became one of the most influential white supremacists in America. Many insist Fuentes is an anomaly, a glitch, a fringe figure who somehow slipped through the cracks of democracy and decency. But this narrative is both comforting and false.

    Fuentes is not an anomaly. He is the logical product of the systems that shaped him—especially American higher education.

    While institutions obsess over rankings, fundraising, and branding campaigns, they have quietly abandoned entire generations of young people to debt, alienation, status anxiety, and a digital culture that preys on male insecurity. In this vacuum, extremist networks thrive, incubating figures like Fuentes long before the public notices.

    HEI warned about this trend years ago. Since 2016, the publication tracked the rise of Charlie Kirk and Turning Point USA, noting how TPUSA used campus culture wars to radicalize disaffected young men. HEI saw that for-profit-style marketing, donor-driven politics, and relentless culture-war agitation were creating an ecosystem where reactionaries could build both influence and profit. Fuentes did not arise outside that ecosystem—he evolved from it, even as he later turned on Kirk as insufficiently extreme.

    What fuels this pipeline? A generation of young men raised on the promise of meritocracy but delivered a reality of spiraling costs, precarious futures, and institutional betrayal. Many arrive at college campuses burdened by debt, anxious about their place in an unforgiving economy, and deeply online. They bear the psychological bruises of a culture that has replaced community with competition and replaced meaning with metrics.

    This is also the demographic most vulnerable to incel ideology, a misogynistic worldview built around grievance, rejection, humiliation, and resentment. Incel communities overlap heavily with the digital spaces where Fuentes built his early audience. The mix is combustible: sexually frustrated young men who feel mocked by mainstream culture, priced out of adulthood, and invisible to institutions that once guided them. The result is a fusion of white nationalism, male resentment, Christian nationalism, ironic fascism, and livestream entertainment—perfectly tailored to a generation raised on Twitch and YouTube.

    And yet the higher-education establishment insisted for years that white supremacists were primarily rural “rednecks”—poor, uneducated, easily dismissed. This stereotype blinded journalists, academics, and administrators to the reality developing right in front of them. Higher Education Inquirer knew better because we corresponded for years with Peter Simi, one of the country’s leading scholars of extremism. Simi’s research demonstrated clearly that white supremacists were not confined to rural backwaters. They were suburban, middle-class, sometimes college-educated, often tech-savvy, and deeply embedded in mainstream institutions.

    Simi’s work showed that white supremacist movements have always thrived among people with something to lose, people who feel their status slipping. They recruit in fraternities, gaming communities, campus political groups, military circles, and online spaces where young men spend their most lonely hours. They build identities around grievance and belonging—needs that universities once helped students navigate but now too often ignore.

    This is the world that produced Nick Fuentes.

    Fuentes entered higher education during a moment of fragmentation and distrust. Tuition was skyrocketing. Campuses were polarizing. Students were increasingly treated as revenue streams rather than whole human beings. Administrators were more focused on donor relations and culture-war optics than on the psychological welfare of their students. And universities outsourced so many vital functions—to police, to lobbyists, to tech platforms—that they ceded responsibility for the very students they claimed to educate.

    Into that void stepped extremist influencers who offered simple answers to complex problems, validation for resentment, and a community that cared—if only in the performative, transactional sense of internet politics.

    The tragedy is not simply that Fuentes emerged. The tragedy is that the conditions to generate many more like him remain firmly in place.

    American higher education created the environment: hyper-competition, abandonment of the humanities, the collapse of community, the normalization of precarity, and a relentless emphasis on personal failure over systemic dysfunction. It created the audience: anxious, isolated, indebted young men looking for meaning. And it created the blind spot: a refusal to take extremism seriously until it reaches mainstream visibility.

    Fuentes is not a glitch in the system. He is the system’s mirror held up to itself.

    Unless universities confront their complicity in this radicalization pipeline—economically, culturally, and psychologically—the next Nick Fuentes is already in a dorm room somewhere, streaming at 2 a.m., finding thousands of followers who feel just as betrayed as he does.

    Sources

    Angela Nagle, Kill All Normies: Online Culture Wars from 4chan and Tumblr to Trump and the Alt-Right (2017).

    Peter Simi & Robert Futrell, American Swastika: Inside the White Power Movement’s Hidden Spaces of Hate (2010, updated 2015).

    Kathleen Belew, Bring the War Home: The White Power Movement and Paramilitary America (2018).

    Joan Donovan & danah boyd, “Stop the Presses? The Crisis of Misinformation” (Harvard Kennedy School).

    Cynthia Miller-Idriss, Hate in the Homeland: The New Global Far Right (2020).

    Michael Kimmel, Healing from Hate: How Young Men Get Into—and Out of—Violent Extremism (2018).

    Whitney Phillips, “The Oxygen of Amplification: Better Practices for Reporting on Extremists.”

    Brian Hughes & Cynthia Miller-Idriss, “Youth Radicalization in Digital Spaces.”

    David Futrelle, We Hunted the Mammoth archive on incel ideology.

    Higher Education Inquirer (2016–2024 coverage of TPUSA, Charlie Kirk, and campus extremism).

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  • More Work-Life Balance in Academe Would Help Reduce the Fear of Retirement

    More Work-Life Balance in Academe Would Help Reduce the Fear of Retirement

    To the editor:

    I’m not quite sure why you felt the need to publish the self-indulgent “Teaching as a Sacred Life” by Joe P. Dunn (Nov. 19, 2025).

    It’s great that Joe is inspired by his teaching and is so passionate about it. Of course, most faculty who chose teaching are (or were) so inspired. So what merits the article? I guess that Joe is still teaching at age 80.

    Yes, some people view retirement as a goal because they don’t like their jobs. But many faculty view their profession as a vocation, so why would they retire? One reason is because of diminished effectiveness. Ossified approaches, diminished cognitive capacity and so on are the unhappy, but inevitable, results of aging. The person experiencing these declines is generally not the best at noticing them, as they creep in so slowly that they’re most visible to outsiders or when accurately comparing to yourself from long ago. (A septuagenarian Galileo, when completing Two New Sciences, his seminal 1638 work in mechanics, was disheartened to find that it was hard for him to follow his own notes and thoughts from several decades earlier.)

    Another reason to retire is to give the next generation a chance. Joe talks about the plentiful faculty jobs when he was young. There are many reasons why they’re no longer plentiful, but one of them is that there is no longer a mandatory retirement age. It was legal until 1993 for there to be a mandatory retirement age for tenured faculty (later than the general 1986 ban on mandatory retirement because lawmakers felt there were several valid arguments for a mandatory retirement age for tenured professors).

    Many academics pour so much into their work that they don’t develop a strong identity outside of their job. They end up like Joe, not sure what they would even do in retirement. A broader push for a better work-life balance in higher education could go a long way toward helping people develop their complete selves, and would reduce the fear of retirement among academics. Plus, there are always positions emeriti that allow you to keep your hand in the intellectual world of higher ed without continuing to draw a paycheck that you no longer need and someone else does.

    Speaking of viewing teaching as sacred, clergy retire. Heck, we’ve even had a pope retire. Faculty can figure it out too.

    David Syphers is a physics professor at Eastern Washington University. He is writing in a personal capacity.

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  • Higher Education Inquirer : America’s Creepiest College Presidents

    Higher Education Inquirer : America’s Creepiest College Presidents

     Across the United States, a quiet but unmistakable chill has settled over many college campuses. It isn’t the weather. It’s the behavior of a particular class of leaders—the college presidents whose decisions, priorities, and public personas have begun to feel, for lack of a better word, creepy. Not criminal, necessarily. Not always abusive in the legal sense. Just profoundly unsettling in ways that undermine trust, erode shared governance, and push higher education further into the shadows of authoritarianism and corporate capture.

    This piece introduces criteria for what makes a college president “creepy,” highlights examples of the types of leaders who fit the mold, and invites reader feedback to build a more accountable public record.

    Criteria for a “Creepy” College President

    “Creepy” here is not about personality quirks. It’s about behavior, power, and material consequences. Based on the reporting and analysis at HEI, we propose the following criteria:


    1. First Amendment Hostility

    Presidents who suppress speech, restrict student journalism, punish dissent, or hide behind overbroad “time, place, and manner” rules fall squarely into this category. The creepiness intensifies when universities hire outside PR firms or surveillance contractors to monitor campus critics, including students and faculty.

    2. Student Rights Violations

    Presidents who treat students as risks rather than people, who hide data on assaults, who enable over-policing by campus security, or who weaponize conduct codes to silence protest movements—from Palestine solidarity groups to climate activists—fit the profile.

    3. Civil Rights Erosion

    Administrators who undermine Title IX protections, retaliate against whistleblowers, protect abusive coaches, or ignore discrimination complaints are not just negligent—they’re institutionally creepy. Their public statements about “inclusion” often ring hollow when compared with their actions behind closed doors.

    4. Worker Rights Suppression

    Union busting. Outsourcing. Wage stagnation. Anti-transparency tactics. Presidents who preach community while crushing collective bargaining efforts, freezing staff pay, or firing outspoken employees through “restructuring” deserve a place on any such list.

    5. Climate Denial or Delay

    Presidents who sign glossy climate pledges yet continue fossil-fuel investments, partner with extractive corporations, or suppress environmental activism on campus epitomize a uniquely twenty-first-century creepiness: a willingness to sacrifice future generations to maintain donor relationships and boardroom comfort.

    Examples: The Multi-Modal Creep Typology

    Rather than name only individuals—something readers can help expand—we outline several recognizable types. These composites reflect the emerging patterns seen across U.S. higher education.

    The Surveillance Chancellor

    Obsessed with “campus safety,” this president quietly expands the university’s security apparatus: license plate readers at entrances, contracts with predictive-policing vendors, facial recognition “pilots,” and backdoor relationships with state or federal agencies. Their speeches emphasize “community,” but their emails say “monitoring.”

    The Union-Busting Visionary

    This leader talks the language of innovation and social mobility while hiring anti-union law firms to intimidate graduate workers and dining staff. Their glossy strategic plans promise “belonging,” but their HR memos rewrite job classifications to avoid paying benefits.

    The Donor-Driven Speech Regulator

    Terrified of upsetting trustees, corporate sponsors, or wealthy alumni, this president cracks down on student protests, bans certain speakers, or manipulates disciplinary procedures to neutralize campus activism. They invoke “civility” while undermining the First Amendment.

    The DEI-Washing Chief Executive

    This president loves diversity statements—for marketing. Meanwhile, they ignore racial harassment complaints, target outspoken faculty of color, or cut ethnic studies under the guise of “realignment.” Their commitment to equity is perfectly proportional to the next accreditation review.

    The Climate Hypocrite

    At Earth Day, they pose with solar panels. In the boardroom, they argue that divesting from fossil fuels is “unrealistic.” Student climate groups often face administrative smothering, and sustainability staffers are rotated out when they ask uncomfortable questions.

    Why “Creepiness” Matters

    Creepy leaders normalize:

    • an erosion of democratic rights on campus,

    • the quiet expansion of surveillance,

    • the targeting of vulnerable students and workers, and

    • a form of managerial governance that undermines the public purpose of higher education.

    Higher education is supposed to be a refuge for inquiry, dissent, creativity, and collective imagination. Presidents who govern through fear—whether subtle or overt—pose a deeper threat than those who merely mismanage budgets. They hollow out the civic core of academic life.

    A Call for Reader Feedback

    HEI is building a more comprehensive and accountable registry of America’s Creepiest College Presidents, and we want your help.

    • Who on your campus fits these criteria?

    • Which presidents (past or present) deserve examination?

    • What specific stories, patterns, or documents should be highlighted?

    • What additional criteria should be added for future reporting?

    Send your confidential tips, analyses, and suggestions. Together, we can shine light into administrative corners that have remained dark for far too long.

    Higher Education Inquirer welcomes further input and encourages readers to share this article with colleagues, student groups, labor organizers, and university newspapers.

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  • Higher education outlook remains negative for 2026, Moody’s says

    Higher education outlook remains negative for 2026, Moody’s says

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    Dive Brief:

    • Moody’s Ratings anticipates another tough year ahead financially for U.S. colleges as the sector navigates enrollment pressures, rising expenses and political headwinds under the Trump administration. 
    • The ratings agency recently issued a negative outlook for the higher education sector for fiscal 2026 amid economic uncertainty and shrinking margins.
    • “Federal policy and a shrinking population of high school graduates create an increasingly difficult and shifting operating environment for colleges and universities,” analysts said in a report last week.

    Dive Insight:

    Higher ed started the year with a stable outlook overall from Moody’s. That changed less than two months after President Donald Trump retook office, when the ratings agency downgraded its 2025 outlook to negative. 

    By then, the Trump administration had begun curtailing research funding, increasing investigations into colleges over antisemitism-related claims, cracking down on immigrants and international students, and supporting massive changes to higher ed policy like higher endowment taxes. 

    The political challenges have only intensified since then, with the summer passage of Republicans’ massive spending bill that contains major higher ed policy shifts. The administration has also moved to start dismantling the U.S. Department of Education, slow down the visa system, and impose ideological and operational changes on colleges. 

    In last week’s report, Moody’s analysts highlighted changes to the student loan system as potentially the most painful. 

    Under the spending bill, the federal government next year will begin phasing out the Grad PLUS loan program, which helps graduate students finance their programs up to the cost of attendance. The government will also cap student borrowing at $100,000 for most graduate programs, with a $200,000 limit for professional programs such as medical school. 

    “Institutions with large master’s degree offerings will be particularly vulnerable to shifts in student demand if prospective students are not able to fully access the private loan market,” analysts said.

    All of those disruptions come on top of economic trends already pressuring the sector. Moody’s highlighted demographic challenges as the national population of high school graduates is projected to decline beginning next year. 

    For colleges, that means a slowdown in revenue growth. Moody’s estimates 3.5% growth overall in revenue, down from 3.8% in 2025. For smaller colleges, the 2026 increases could be even smaller — 2.5% for small public institutions and 2.7% for small privates.

    Expenses, on the other hand, will grow 4.4% by Moody’s estimates. While that represents more modest inflation compared to this year’s 5.2% increase, it’s still higher than revenue growth and will eat into institutions’ margins. 

    Moody’s forecast that the share of private colleges with negative earnings margins (before taxes, depreciation and amortization) will increase to 16% next year. That’s compared to an estimated 12.2% in 2025 and 7.2% in 2024. 

    “Given the strained revenue forecast, management’s ability to control costs and identify creative operational efficiencies will take on even greater importance even at the largest and wealthiest institutions,” analysts said. 

    Margin pressures could lead to more early retirement buyouts, workforce cuts, benefit reductions, shared services and mergers to “address fundamental business model weakness,” they added.

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  • Notes on the Complete College America Conference

    Notes on the Complete College America Conference

    Having returned to the community college world after a two-year sojourn, I wasn’t sure what to expect at my first large-scale higher ed–themed conference. That was especially true given that the conference in question, Complete College America’s Next, was new to me and included both two-year and four-year schools. It was in Baltimore, so it wasn’t a rough drive.

    It was gratifying to see that I hadn’t been entirely forgotten. Thanks to everyone who took a moment to yell “Matt!” from behind as I wandered the hallways. I needed that.

    I attended as part of a delegation from Westmoreland, which is in its second year with CCA. In that role, I tried to glean whatever insights I could to bring back to campus. Some highlights:

    • At a panel on using course scheduling as a retention tool, I came away with one insight, one statistic and one phrase. The insight was that schedule optimization works best at scale; the smaller the scale, the less room to move. That’s especially true at multicampus or multilocation institutions. As the rep from Ad Astra put it, “It’s not helpful to offer things partway.”

    That’s a real challenge when you’re trying to be within driving distance of a lot of people in a sparsely populated area. The statistic was that the major jump in retention occurs among students who take at least 18 credits per year. Lower than that and retention drops precipitously; higher than that and the gains are incremental. Eighteen seems to be the magic number. Finally, someone (my notes fail me) termed some students whose courses were at inaccessible times or locations “unintentionally part-time.” I think the same could be said of many workers; there’s something there.

    • A panel on the impact of academic policies on student retention brought home to me how much context matters. The presenters, Daphne Holland and Debbie Connor, were both from Coastal Carolina University. As they tell it, CCU is a four-year public institution that’s mostly residential, rapidly growing and chock-full of full-time, out-of-state students. I stayed anyway, on the theory that students are students and the struggles are largely the same everywhere.

    And that seemed true at first; they mentioned that the most common reason for students leaving is finances. From there, they outlined changes to their academic probation policy, including an intermediate status called “academic advisory” for students who are passing, but not by much. (Students on advisory are required to check in with success coaches a few times per semester.) When I asked how changes to an academic policy would affect finances, they responded that the finances in question were HOPE scholarships that would be lost below a certain GPA. Alas, though interesting, it wasn’t as relevant to my world as I had hoped.

    • Naturally, I attended the panel on higher ed reporters. That one was more of a personal interest. It was great to finally meet Scott Carlson from The Chronicle and Johanna Alonso from IHE. I hadn’t known of Kirk Carapezza, who hosts the College Uncovered podcast, but immediately added it to my podcast feed.
    • Chike Aguh gave the afternoon keynote, focusing on higher ed and the future of work. The talk was largely about AI and the need to prepare students for the world as it’s taking shape. (The theme of “AI is changing everything, get over it” pervaded the conference—AI skepticism was regarded as passé, if not self-indulgent.)

    He noted that in America, “we treat college like marriage,” acting as if the initial choice is irrevocable and life-determining. That’s not true in the community college world, but I have seen 17-year-olds look at a college decision that way. Instead, he proposed a “war college of technology,” in which professionals would take an education break every five years or so to get up to speed on the latest technology. Politically, I suspect that’s dead on arrival, but a version of that could be a useful way to package continuing ed.

    • I was much more engaged by the panel on Scalable Student Success Strategies in a Shifting Political Landscape. Carrie Hodge, from CCA, and Julia Raufman, from the Community College Research Center, led a delicate but necessary discussion on ways to improve student success when certain words, resources and tactics have been ruled out of bounds by the current political climate. I’ll respect the sensitivity of the discussion by leaving it at that, other than to thank Hodge and Raufman for a badly needed conversation.
    • Finally, the panel on workforce pathways in Texas had a similar alternate-universe feel to the earlier CCU panel. In the case of Texas, Daniel Perez and Shawnda Floyd reported that the performance funding system to which community colleges are subjected is not zero-sum. In other words, if everybody does better, everybody gets more funding. The colleges aren’t competing with each other, so they don’t have to divert resources to competing with each other.

    You could hear gasps in the room, including my own. Floyd, from Dallas College, reported that they use philanthropic funding to cover the cost of tests for industry certifications for both students and instructors, which struck me as an excellent idea. In response to a question about reducing the benefits of higher education to income, Perez agreed that they go far beyond that but cautioned against “going down the rabbit hole of positive externalities” with legislators. In the short term, he’s obviously right about that, but it’s still disheartening.

    Of course, as with many conferences, many of the highlights came from hallway conversations. Reconnecting with old friends and former colleagues is good for the soul.

    Even when my immediate reaction to hearing about programs in some places was a variation on “must be nice …” it’s still useful to be reminded that some of the dilemmas we face aren’t inevitable. If 2025 has taught us anything, it’s that the old adage about change happening first slowly and then all at once is true. The key is to push the change in the right direction. Kudos to CCA for doing exactly that.

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  • Advice to a Younger Scientist (opinion)

    Advice to a Younger Scientist (opinion)

    “For a man to conquer himself is the first and noblest of all victories.” —Plato

    In the first week of my postdoctoral fellowship, David B. Sacks, my lifelong mentor and senior investigator in the Department of Laboratory Medicine at the National Institutes of Health, handed me a book by Peter Medawar, who received the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 1960, and encouraged me to read it attentively. The book, Advice to a Young Scientist, carried a weight beyond its physical form. I chose the title of this piece as a tribute to that book. Although I am still not far along in my career, I believe I have gathered insights worth sharing with the next generation of scientists.

    Practical Strategies for Scientific Growth

    From the very first year of your graduate studies, I encourage you to maintain a list of grants and scholarships for which you can apply. If you are an international scholar, gather concrete information on your eligibility. This list should evolve alongside your career, marking opportunities with specific eligibility timelines: those available one to three years into graduate school, one to three years postgraduation, less than five years postdegree and early-career grants (within 10 years). Knowing the deadlines and criteria early on ensures that you do not miss crucial opportunities. Many international scholars, myself included, discover too late that they are ineligible for certain grants. By tracking these opportunities, you can plan more effectively and maximize your chances.

    Learn to pitch your ideas early. Selling your ideas—convincing others of their importance in clear, communicative language—is a skill that spans all facets of life and career. Begin developing this muscle from the outset.

    Dedicate part of your routine to familiarizing yourself with new technologies and scientific resources. Record the tools and platforms you encounter, such as, in my field, antibody databases, protein-protein interaction networks and pathway analysis tools. Regularly updating and reviewing this resource library ensures you stay at the cutting edge of scientific advancements. However, not every technique or technology that is new and more complex is necessarily better. Do not disregard a technique solely based on the fact that it is older. Often, established methods are more robust, reproducible and cost-effective, making them invaluable in various contexts.

    Documentation is a cornerstone of scientific work. A western blot from 10 years ago may suddenly become relevant to a new project, fitting perfectly into an emerging story. Therefore, write detailed protocols and notes as if someone decades from now might need to understand and replicate your data. Keep records not just for your immediate understanding, but instead in a universal, comprehensive format that anyone can follow.

    Every published paper should be accompanied by a thesis-style archive containing all primary raw data and complete supplementary materials. Raw data includes, as applicable, unprocessed high-resolution images, instrument output files, original spreadsheets, code/notebooks, protocols and metadata. Organize this material with a table of contents and clear instructions. You should inventory every reagent you use, noting lot numbers, storage conditions and supplier details. While modern online platforms facilitate some of this, it is vital to maintain meticulous personal records. Seek feedback, observe best practices from others and refine your documentation habits over time.

    The Power of Waiting

    I understand the pressure many of you feel to advance your career quickly, secure your next position swiftly and carefully plan the path ahead. As an immigrant scientist, I am keenly aware that the range of choices often narrows and sometimes the options available are dictated more by circumstance than by preference. For those who are supporting families, the urgency intensifies, as the stipend of a graduate student or postdoc scarcely permits long periods of indecision.

    Given the unpredictable nature of an academic career, fostering a diverse network and developing a wide-ranging skill set early on can create opportunities and provide stability over time. I recall a piece of wisdom shared by Mehdi Nematbakhsh, a professor at Isfahan University of Medical Sciences, where I earned my M.D. degree. He often said, “One should place oneself in a position to have several choices; that is the way of the wise to choose.”

    This advice resonated deeply with me. The ability to choose from multiple paths reflects the time and energy invested in cultivating possibilities aligned with your ultimate goal. It is akin to planting a couple of dozen seeds in the hope that a handful will sprout into flourishing leaves.

    Resilience in the Face of Uncertainty

    Scientific inquiry is inherently unpredictable. There are days when experiments yield no results, hypotheses crumble and the seemingly linear path forward transforms into a maze of uncertainties. For younger scientists, this unpredictability can breed frustration or self-doubt. It is crucial to remember that every failed experiment is not a step backward but an essential part of the learning process.

    My mentor David B. Sacks often reminded me that even the most accomplished scientists navigate failure more frequently than success. What distinguishes them is resilience—the readiness to rise, recalibrate and move forward. This is the mark of a scientist who is not only committed to their craft but also grounded in the understanding that discovery rarely follows a predictable timeline.

    Enduring the Marathon

    Life as a scientist is not a series of discrete tasks with periods of relief in between; it is more akin to running a lifelong marathon. Achievements like earning a Ph.D. or securing a promotion are milestones, but they mark the beginning of broader journeys rather than the end of a certain task. Similar to the life of a clinician, the life of a scientist requires a sustained commitment over time. It does not necessarily get easier, though confidence grows with experience.

    This journey requires developing lifelong habits: reading to update your reservoir of knowledge, maintaining daily discipline and nurturing sustainable practices that align with our core values—for instance, if you value rigor, keep complete lab notebooks and version-controlled code; if you value openness, share data and protocols; if you value mentorship, hold regular one-on-ones and set clear authorship expectations. If you approach science as a long-distance run, the importance of building sustainable habits becomes clear. Like the slow but steady turtle in the old story, consistent, sustainable effort over time is key to long-term success and fulfillment.

    Working With Time

    We are confined in time and space; maturity reflects itself in learning how to navigate within those limits. Over the long run, excess stress narrows vision and compels shallow decisions, while excess ease invites drift and missed chances. As the Tao Te Ching counsels, be like water: Progress comes from steady pressure and well-timed yielding—press when the channel narrows, eddy when the current runs muddy.

    The aim is pacing, not grinding; let stress sharpen, not scald; let rest restore, not stall. Inspired by Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks, treat time management as a humane practice rather than a perfectionist project. Plan enough to choose your moments, but do not let schedules become a source of anxiety. Flow through time, steer deliberately and let attention—not urgency—set the rhythm of your work.

    The Art of Carrying the Unknown

    Being able to face and carry the unknown with you is an essential skill. Contemplating what is not known or what is surprisingly different from what we predict is a critical process. Enduring this state allows the time needed for the unknown to unveil itself.

    If this capacity is not developed, and we rush or force to overcome it, we risk introducing biases or even the seeds of misconduct. This does not mean avoiding action to better understand the phenomenon; rather, it means cultivating an internal acceptance of the state of “we do not know” and leaving it there when no concrete light is visible. Balancing what we know and hypothesize with detachment from these ideas leaves room for the unknown to unfold, a balance critical to genuine scientific discovery.

    The Art of Extracting the Essence

    A crucial yet often overlooked skill in science is the ability to extract the essence from information—whether it is a paper, a talk or experimental data. This deep insight enables you to find the key piece of information that holds the essence of the knowledge presented. It takes time to develop the discipline required to avoid distraction from extraneous details and focus on what truly matters.

    Make this focus a regular practice with everything you encounter, and apply it rigorously when designing experiments. An experiment crafted with the essence of your research question in mind will bring you closer to the answers you seek.

    Mentorship and Building Networks

    No scientist reaches their destination alone. The mentors we encounter along the way shape not only our scientific trajectory but also our professional character. My mentors’ influence extended far beyond technical guidance; they imparted values of integrity, perseverance and humility. I urge younger scientists to seek mentors who inspire not just technical proficiency but personal growth. A true mentor will spend time guiding you beyond formal settings, offering valuable advice after journal clubs or during informal conversations.

    High-quality mentors are rare. You should seek at least two mentors. The first should be a junior mentor who is at the stage you aspire to reach in four to five years. Science evolves rapidly, and a junior mentor can provide practical, up-to-date advice for navigating your field. The other should be a senior mentor, someone you wish to emulate in 20 years. These mentors serve as guiding stars, offering long-term vision and perspective that may differ from your current viewpoint. Their guidance can help keep you aligned with your broader goals. A small deviation in your path may seem inconsequential in a few months, but it could lead to significant divergence over decades.

    In addition to finding mentors, dedicate time to cultivating long-lasting networks. These connections will evolve as your career progresses. Nurture personal relationships with colleagues beyond the confines of science. At times, this involves writing at least 50 personalized New Year emails. These relationships become the threads that weave a strong scientific community, enriching personal and professional lives.

    Conclusion and Closing Reflections

    Science is neither a solitary pursuit nor a race to an arbitrary finish line. It is a journey marked by moments of doubt, resilience and occasional triumph. To the younger scientists reading this, I encourage you to embrace the uncertainties, cultivate patience, and trust in the seeds you plant today. The landscape of science is ever-evolving, and your contributions, no matter how incremental they may seem, hold the potential to shape the future.

    As Medawar reminds us, the young scientist’s best ally is time, but time must not be wasted. Choose your path with care, but do not fear the unknown. The waiting, the failures and the quiet moments of reflection are as much a part of the scientific endeavor as the discoveries themselves.

    Samar Sayedyahossein is a former scientist at National Institutes of Health and a research scientist at Fralin Biomedical Research Institute at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University. The author extends gratitude to her mentors—Mahmoud Bina Motlagh, Lady Malhotra and David B. Sacks—for their wisdom and support, as well as to her colleagues for the valuable feedback they provided on the draft of this article.

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  • Communicate How Your Campus Connects Education to Careers

    Communicate How Your Campus Connects Education to Careers

    Higher ed, government and workforce leaders are discussing employability skills and work-based learning more than they ever have (at least, in my lifetime). So are students. Recent research shines a light on where and how students contemplate the connection between college and careers (particularly the increasingly influential role of social media) and what they expect. Marketers can leverage these consumer insights to influence both product and positioning to develop, implement and communicate work-integrated learning experience to meet student and workforce needs.

    Students Get Career, College and Life Advice From Social Media

    Seventy percent of young adults use social media to learn about careers, and it’s the top tool young adults use for self-discovery, despite a lack of encouragement from most adults and career navigators/counselors. Students talk about workforce skills when they talk to each other online about going to college—about 20 percent of these posts are about skills needed for jobs. They believe transferable skills are valuable to keep their career options open, particularly for those who don’t know what they want to do in their future careers. Specifically, they talk about:

    • Relationship-building skills like networking, persuasive speaking and small group leadership
    • Basic math and writing skills
    • Study skills
    • Interview skills

    Forums are advice-seeking and experience-sharing platforms, and when students talk about needing workforce skills, they receive encouraging advice. Suggestions include using extra courses, academic services and resources to gain employability skills to help them find a job after graduation. Students are also encouraged to develop practical critical thinking and social skills because, in the words of those giving advice, “a degree doesn’t guarantee success.”

    When students think about preparing for a job, they prioritize internships. In an analysis of over 600,000 forum conversations about college admissions Campus Sonar conducted to inform Jeff Selingo’s book Dream School: Finding The College That’s Right for You, internships were the most common form of workforce training discussed. When students make their college decision, they consider whether a campus provides them greater access to internship opportunities. Sometimes students interpret a rural campus as one without internship opportunities (which isn’t exactly true), and students consider if the campus gives them access to a connected network to find future internships and jobs. Another consideration is the value of an institution’s reputation with employers or intern hiring managers.

    However, these conversations revealed that students don’t really know what happens in an internship or how to get one. So they use online forums to seek advice on obtaining an internship, leveraging it, securing a job after graduation and exploring alternative careers outside their major.

    This is a storytelling opportunity for campuses. Specifically, to bridge the gap between current or recent interns and prospective and first-year students. Students who completed internships don’t have the chance to tell the students coming behind them what it’s like or how it helped them. This transition point is an excellent chance to engage recent interns to share their experiences directly with students or prospects to provide motivation and guidance in the peer-to-peer form students want. Using social media—the place where young people are seeking this advice—is crucial.

    Students Need to Understand the Connection Between Curriculum, Skill Building and Careers

    When considering college, students are already thinking about what comes next. Over 10 years of social listening research examining how students talk about college admissions, 62 percent of conversations focused on the postgraduation path. But when the connections between a college’s curriculum, employability skills and careers aren’t clear, students think the burden is on them to build the skills and chart their path.

    This was particularly clear in Campus Sonar’s 2024 Rebuilding Public Trust in Higher Education social intelligence study, which found that 45 percent of peer-to-peer conversations about the value of college included cautionary advice that students may be on their own to make crucial connections between curriculum, skill building and careers.

    Many colleges struggle to communicate these connections effectively. Here are two doing an excellent job.

    • Kettering University in Flint, Mich. For 100 years, Kettering has focused on work-integrated learning with a curriculum that rotates students between the classroom and co-op work placements in 12-week intervals. Ninety-eight percent of their students are employed after graduation, and the ongoing integration of students in the workforce produces valuable student feedback, enabling curriculum shifts to keep up with ever-changing employer needs.

    Kettering is historically focused on STEM, but the university recently launched the School of Foundational Studies, traditionally known as liberal arts. The core curriculum emphasizes a connected, human-centered approach and integrates a STEM focus with early professional development and ethical decision-making, preparing students to navigate complexity with intellectual agility. We know the liberal arts prepares students for the workforce, but Kettering is shifting the narrative and dropping the misunderstood phrase to put relevance and impact like ethical decision-making and intellectual agility front and center.

    • Moravian University is another example. The medium-size, private, religiously affiliated institution created Elevate as part of its undergraduate experience. It’s a career readiness digital badging system to help students clearly see the pathways for developing and demonstrating skills in communication, critical thinking leadership and more. Elevate is part of Moravian’s distinctive and branded undergraduate student experience, which is a four-year pathway to a “successful future and a career you love.” The Elevate experience goes year by year and explains how students scaffold their experiences, learnings and badges and the support they get along the way.

    Career navigation is a prevailing concept in this space right now and is critical in empowering students to truly navigate their own careers rather than expect the university to take them from A to B. Students need to become their own career navigator and be confident upon graduation that they have the navigation skills. Integrated curricula like those I’ve highlighted here achieve that outcome.

    Not all campuses are equipped to develop a work-integrated curriculum independently, meaning the product offered to students may not yet be at the place where it can be positioned in a way that meets the current needs. An ecosystem of partners has developed over the last decade to help and is highlighted at workforce-focused higher ed events such as the Horizons Summit, SXSW EDU and ASU+GSV Summit.

    For example, Riipen connects educators, learners and employers (particularly small businesses) to integrate short-term, paid projects into coursework—including remote work opportunities. Education at Work connects students to résumé-building, paying jobs at top national employers like Intuit and Discover to build durable skills and unlock career pathways within the organization. A strong relationship with your provost or career services office will ensure the marketing team is aware of the “product features” that are evolving on your campus to connect classroom to career.

    Take Action

    • Tell as many individual stories as you can to help students see themselves in your graduates, develop a sense of belonging and trust outcomes achieved by a peer. Tell the types of stories (or empower students/alumni to tell their own) that would be offered as positive anecdotes in social media (e.g., TikTok, Reddit). Recognizing that resources are finite and stories from “someone like me” are nearly always more influential than polished marketing content, social listening bridges the gap to identify and amplify stories students and alumni already share.
    • Include program-level excellence in your brand narrative to more specifically connect curriculum and programming to careers. Support your claims with data (e.g., job placement, salaries, top employers), but don’t rely solely on statistics—always connect the data to stories.
    • Emphasize support structures and peer-to-peer connections such as experiential learning programs, career services opportunities, paid internship support, peer internship mentoring, etc., so students don’t feel like they’re on their own to navigate their career path.

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  • DEI Orthodoxy Doesn’t Belong in NACE Competencies (opinion)

    DEI Orthodoxy Doesn’t Belong in NACE Competencies (opinion)

    If you’re not a supporter of the progressive DEI agenda, you’re not career ready. That’s one of the messages that the National Association of Colleges and Employers, America’s leading professional association for career placement, is sending to students.

    First established in 1956, NACE boasts a current membership of more than 17,000 dues-paying career services and recruitment professionals. Career counselors and others in higher education often cite NACE’s eight career readiness competencies to help students prepare for the job market and workplace.

    I was planning to use the NACE competencies this semester in a class on how liberal arts education equips students for the professional world and was dismayed to find that partisan criteria had crept into this valuable resource. The list includes—alongside things like teamwork, effective communication and technological proficiency—a competency called Equity & Inclusion. According to NACE, this means that a prospective professional will “engage in anti-oppressive practices that actively challenge the systems, structures, and policies of racism and inequity.”

    If you’re fully career ready, the group says, you will not merely “keep an open mind to diverse ideas and new ways of thinking.” You will also “advocate for inclusion, equitable practices, justice, and empowerment for historically marginalized communities” and will “address systems of privilege that limit opportunities” for members of those communities. In other words, you will subscribe to the view that American society is characterized by systemic racism and will work to break down America’s allegedly racist structure.

    NACE defines “equity” in this light: “Whereas equality means providing the same to all, equity means recognizing that we do not all start from the same place and must acknowledge and make adjustments to imbalances.”

    While these beliefs and attitudes might make someone a good fit at one of a diminishing number of “woke” corporations, they have little to do with career readiness in the ordinary sense of the term. Rather, the language NACE employs in its official materials implies a commitment to an ideological agenda that the organization has mixed into its definition of professional competence. NACE could be teaching students how to navigate the political diversity that characterizes most workplaces. Instead, through its influence in the college career counseling world, it is teaching them that acceptance of progressive orthodoxy on disputed questions of racial justice is a prerequisite for professional employment.

    NACE also does a disservice to students by signaling that workplace political engagement is universally valued by employers. In fact, many companies discourage it, and with good reason. In most work environments, political advocacy is more likely to cause tension and division than it is to foster cooperation and trust.

    As a college teacher and administrator, I’m especially troubled by the fact that NACE is conveying to students that their education should lead them to adopt a certain viewpoint on some of the most contentious political issues. The relationship between equity and equality, for example, is something that should be studied, discussed and debated in college, not taught as authoritative moral and political dogma.

    More generally, the way NACE talks about diversity, equity and inclusion ignores—or perhaps disdains—the political disagreement that is a normal and natural part of life in a democratic society, including the workplace. The organization undermines its professed commitment to open-mindedness when it implies that all open-minded people must be capital-P Progressives on issues such as systemic racism and equitable hiring practices. Like many institutions in recent years, NACE appears to have given in to pressure from activist members and embraced the “antiracist” worldview, sidelining the principles of openness and neutrality that are, or ought to be, hallmarks of professionalism.

    Notably, NACE indicates on its website that its equity and inclusion standard is under review. The organization cites recent “federal Executive Orders and subsequent guidance, as well as court decisions and regulatory changes, [that] may create legal risks that either preclude or discourage campuses and employers from using it.” This is encouraging. Better still would be for NACE to free itself from the ideological commitments that make its materials legally and politically risky in the first place. Let’s hope this venerable organization will get out of the business of DEI advocacy and focus on its core purposes of connecting students with employers and preparing students for professional life.

    Andrew J. Bove is the associate director for academic advising in the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences at Villanova University.

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  • Total NSF, NIH Funding Didn’t Plunge in Fiscal 2025

    Total NSF, NIH Funding Didn’t Plunge in Fiscal 2025

    An analysis found that NSF grant funding remained about level in the recently ended fiscal year.

    The National Science Foundation and National Institutes of Health doled out about as much total grant funding in the recently ended fiscal year as they did the year before, despite the Trump administration’s “unprecedented” earlier slowdown of federal science funding, Science reported Wednesday.

    According to the journal’s analysis, “NSF committed approximately $8.17 billion to grants, fellowships, and other funding mechanisms in the 2025 fiscal year”—which ended Sept. 30—“about the same as in 2024.” It found that NIH spending also remained level.

    But both federal research funding agencies still reduced the number of new grants they awarded, Science reported. It wrote that NSF funded about 8,800 new research project grants, down from 11,000 in 2024, adding that an anonymous NSF staffer said this “was one of several changes designed to reduce the agency’s future financial obligations, in case Trump’s proposed budget cut is realized.” The analysis also found that the agency reduced from 2,600 to 1,100 “the number of new continuing grants, and ‘forward funded’ a number of existing continuing grants.”

    NSF declined to confirm or deny Science’s figures. NIH spokespeople didn’t return Inside Higher Ed’s requests for comment Thursday.

    Congress has yet to decide how much to fund NSF in the current fiscal year; most of the federal government is currently funded by a continuing resolution that expires Jan. 30, and the government could shut down again if lawmakers don’t pass appropriations bills by then. But Republicans from both chambers have indicated they don’t plan to cut $5 billion from NSF, as Trump has requested; in July, Senate appropriators put forth a cut of only $16 million, while the suggestion in the House was to slash the NSF budget by $2 billion.

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