The Key Podcast: What to Expect in Accreditation Rule Making
sara.custer@in…
Thu, 02/05/2026 – 03:00 AM

The Key Podcast: What to Expect in Accreditation Rule Making
sara.custer@in…
Thu, 02/05/2026 – 03:00 AM

A new HEPI Debate Paper makes a stark case that progress on racial equity in English higher education has been far too slow – and that existing accountability mechanisms are failing to drive meaningful change.
In Making Metrics Matter: Tackling Racial Inequity in Higher Education (HEPI Debate Paper 43), Dr Katharine Hubbard sets out compelling evidence that deep disparities in student outcomes and staff representation persist, even at institutions widely regarded as sector leaders.
Using new analysis of TEF 2023 results, the paper reveals that high performance on headline metrics can mask serious inequities. Some TEF Gold institutions have Black degree-awarding gaps exceeding 25 percentage points, while many Gold and Silver providers significantly under-recruit Black academics – in some cases to the extent that students may never be taught by a Black member of staff. The findings raise fundamental questions about what ‘excellence’ should mean in a system with such disparities.
To explore the evidence, analysis and recommendations in full, click here to read the press release and find a link to the full paper.

This blog was kindly authored by Afzal Munna, Senior Lecturer at the University of Hull London.
There is a familiar pattern in higher education equity debates. Persistent disparities are acknowledged. Frameworks, strategies and guidance documents proliferate. Responsibility is shared so widely that, in practice, it is owned by no one. Progress depends on goodwill, isolated champions and optional initiatives – many of which work locally, briefly, or unevenly.
Equity in higher education is a widely endorsed in principle, but inconsistently delivered in practice, and too often framed as a problem of individual deficit rather than structural design.
Much of the equity work in universities is implicitly micro-focused. Students are supported to be more confident, more resilient and more academically prepared. Study skills workshops, mentoring schemes and induction programmes are rolled out – often with good intentions and positive local effects. But, this framing assumes the core system is neutral and that inequity emerges primarily from student characteristics. Evidence suggests otherwise. For migrant and international students in particular, access to higher education has improved significantly, yet participation, belonging and continuation remain uneven. The issue is not simply who students are, but how institutional routines interact with their identities. Equity problems, in other words, are not located in students. They are produced through misalignments between learners’ lived experiences and the assumptions embedded in curriculum design, pedagogy, assessment and institutional policy.
My doctoral research responds to this challenge through the Intersectional–Multilevel Equity (IME) model, which reframes equity as a system-level outcome rather than a collection of individual interventions.
The IME model identifies three interdependent levels of the higher education system:
Equity emerges – or fails – through the alignment (or misalignment) of these layers. Treating any one level as sufficient is an error.
Using a mixed and integrative methodology this research made visible how intersecting identities (such as migration status, language background and socio-economic positioning) operate differently across educational contexts.
Several patterns stood out.
First, mentoring and peer-support schemes were most effective when embedded within inclusive curriculum practices, rather than positioned as compensatory add-ons. Where mentoring was disconnected from teaching and assessment design, its impact was limited. Second, assessment transparency mattered more than assessment type. Clear exemplars, scaffolded tasks and explicit success criteria significantly reduced linguistic and cultural disadvantage, without lowering academic standards.
Third, staff development focused on equity was most impactful when linked to everyday teaching decisions – not abstract principles. Lecturers reported increased confidence navigating diverse classrooms when institutional signals, workload planning and professional learning were aligned.
Finally, student voice was not simply consultative but corrective. Interventions designed with students better reflected lived barriers and produced more relevant solutions.
The central lesson is that equity initiatives succeed or fail based on cross-level coherence. When micro-level support (such as study skills provision) is separated from meso-level curriculum design, students are asked to adapt to systems that remain unchanged. When macro-level strategies set ambitious targets without resourcing or accountability mechanisms, implementation becomes symbolic rather than structural. Systemic change requires resetting the baseline – from optional good practice to expected responsibility. In higher education, equity is too often treated as aspirational rather than operational.
This is not an argument for micromanagement or rigid standardisation – a systemic approach to equity does not script teaching. Instead, it establishes a minimum floor of responsibility, below which institutions should not fall.
Practically, this means:
None of these actions are radical in isolation. Their transformative potential lies in their alignment.
Equity in higher education will not be achieved through isolated initiatives, goodwill alone or perpetual pilots. Like other forms of safety and responsibility, it requires systemic expectation, structural coherence and institutional ownership. The IME model does not offer a silver bullet. It offers a reframing: equity as something institutions do by design, not something students must overcome by resilience. Until higher education stops treating equity as optional, we will continue to recognise the problem, reinvent partial solutions – and find ourselves exactly where we have been before.

The mainstreaming of disruptive technology is a familiar experience.
Consider how quickly contactless payment has become largely unavoidable and assumed for most of us.
In a similar way, we are already seeing how generative artificial intelligence (GenAI) is, even more rapidly, weaving itself into the fabric of education, work, and wider society.
In higher education’s search for appropriate responses to the rise of GenAI, much of the emphasis has focused on the technology itself. Yet, as machine learning becomes increasingly embedded in everyday tools and student learning practices, we suggest that this brings new urgency to making the ongoing value of human learning visible. Not to do so risks leaving universities struggling to explain, in an era of increasingly invisible GenAI, what is distinctive about higher education at all.
Our starting point for a meaningful response to this has been a focus on critical thinking. For a long time, institutions have expressed the importance of students developing as capable critical thinkers through high-level signifiers like graduate attributes, employability skills, and course learning outcomes. But these often substitute for shared understanding, signalling value without making it visible. The rise of GenAI does not challenge critical thinking so much as it reveals our existing weakness in articulating its substance and connection to practice.
If we were to ask you what critical thinking meant to you, what would you say? And would your students think the same? Through a QAA-funded Collaborative Enhancement Project with colleagues from Stellenbosch University, we have been asking teachers these same questions. While each person we spoke to was quick to value it as an essential learning outcome, we were struck by the extent to which staff acknowledged how little time they had spent reflecting on what it meant to them.
Through extended conversations with colleagues from our two universities we were able to explore what critical thinking meant in a range of disciplines, and to capture the diverse richness of associated practices, from a search for truth, a testing of beliefs, and an openness to critique to systematic analysis and structured argumentation.
Colleagues also identified both strengths and barriers in students’ engagement with critical thinking. Some highlighted students’ social awareness and willingness to experiment, while others noted that students often demonstrate criticality in everyday life but struggle to transfer it to academic tasks. Barriers included a tendency to seek “right answers” rather than engage with ambiguity. As one lecturer observed, “students want the correct answer, not the messy process”. Participants also reflected on the influence of GenAI, with some warning that this technology “gives answers too easily” – allowing students to “skip the hard thinking” – while others suggested it could create space for deeper critical engagement if used thoughtfully.
From the student perspective, surveys at both institutions also revealed broadly positive perceptions of critical thinking as an essential graduate capability, with respondents articulating their belief in its long-term value including in relation to GenAI, but expressing uncertainty as to how such skills were embedded in their programmes.
The depth of staff responses demonstrates that a collective wellspring of understanding exists. What we need to do more is find ways to bring this to the surface to inform teaching and learning, communicate explicitly to students, and give substance to the claims we make for higher education’s purpose.
With this practical end in mind, we used our initial findings to develop a Critical Thinking Framework structured around three interrelated dimensions: Critical Clarity, Critical Context, and Critical Capital. This framework supports educators in identifying the forms of critical thinking they wish to prioritise, recognising barriers that may inhibit its development, and situating these within disciplinary and institutional contexts. It serves both as a reflective tool and a practical design resource, guiding staff in creating learning activities and assessments that make human thinking processes visible in a GenAI-rich educational landscape. This framework and a set of supporting resources, along with our full project report, are now available on the QAA website.
By working with educators in this way, we have seen the adoption of approaches that slow learning down, providing space to support reflection and make the mechanics of critical thinking more visible to learners. Drawing on popular culture through the use of materials that are familiar to students, such as advertising, music and film, has been used as an approach to reduce cognitive load, enabling learners to focus on actually practising thinking critically in ways that are more visible and explicit.
Having put this approach into practice, the feedback received across both institutions suggests that our framework not only supports staff in designing effective approaches to promote critical thinking but also gives students opportunity to articulate what it means to them to think critically. As students and staff have been given the opportunity to pause and reflect, it has underpinned meaningful awareness of the value of the human component in learning.
The growth of GenAI has disrupted the higher education sector and challenged leaders and practitioners alike to think differently and creatively about how they prepare graduates for the future. As an international collaboration, this project has reinforced the view that this challenge is not limited to any single institution, and that there is much to be gained from fostering shared understanding. The results have reminded us that effective solutions can include those that are low-cost and low-risk, simple and practical.
GenAI makes visible what universities have left implicit for too long. Higher education needs to slow down, not to resist GenAI, but to better articulate and advocate for human learning.
Join us at The Secret Life of Students on Tuesday 17 March at the Shaw Theatre in London to keep the conversation going about what it means to learn as a human in the age of AI.

A lecture is no longer synonymous with a room full of students and a wall of text. Something new is happening at our universities.
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Understanding what motivates and excites students is at the heart of teaching. Whether it’s discovering their favorite hobbies, their goals, or the way they prefer to learn, gathering this kind of data helps educators tailor lessons that truly connect with their students. One of the best ways to gather this information is through student interest surveys.
With interest surveys for students, you can collect actionable information to use throughout the school year. You can make a student survey that is super simple and offers insights that can enhance classroom engagement, strengthen relationships, and support differentiated instruction, too.
A student interest survey is a tool designed to gather information about students’ preferences, hobbies, goals, and ways they like to learn. These surveys help educators better understand what motivates their students. You can use the information you gather to connect with students on a personal level and create lessons that resonate.
For example:
By tailoring the questions to the grade level and classroom context, you can design surveys that give you valuable insights about students.
Student interest surveys play a critical role in creating a positive and engaging learning environment.
Surveys show students that their opinions and interests are valued. This can foster trust and create a more inclusive and welcoming classroom culture. For example, if a student shares their passion for basketball, incorporating that into lessons can help them feel seen and appreciated.
When lessons connect with students’ interests, their engagement can increase. A math problem involving sports statistics or a science experiment about underwater habitats can make abstract concepts more relatable and exciting.
If you’ve joined me for a webinar or workshop this year, you might have seen the example I often share about using a chatbot to generate activity ideas based on student interest. I often demo the prompt, “I’m teaching [topic] to [grade], and they love [interests]. Make a list of connections that can help them stay engaged and retain knowledge.”
Surveys can help educators adapt teaching strategies to address the different ways kids like to learn. For instance, if a student prefers independent work over group activities, you can use this information to guide project assignments or seating arrangements.
A well-designed survey gathers a mix of personal, academic, and classroom-specific information. Here are a few things to include:
Digital tools make creating and analyzing surveys faster and more efficient. Platforms like Google Forms, Jotform, and Microsoft Forms offer features like multiple-choice questions, dropdowns, and Likert scales. All of these can simplify the data collection process. These tools, and others like them, also automatically organize responses (like a Google Sheet), saving time for educators.
For younger students, tools like Padlet can be used to gather video or audio responses. You might also ask students to make a collage of their favorite things.
To make sure your surveys give you actionable information, here are a few best practices to take into consideration.
Student interest surveys are a powerful tool for building connections, fostering engagement, and personalizing learning. By taking the time to understand what excites and motivates your students, you can create a classroom environment where every learner feels valued and inspired.
Whether you’re designing your first survey or refining an existing one, remember that the ultimate goal is to use the insights gained to make meaningful changes. Start small, experiment with different formats, and, most importantly, show students that their voices matter!
Do you have a student interest survey success story? Reply to my weekly newsletter (sign up here) and let me know all about it.

The One Big Beautiful Bill Act is the biggest shake-up to federal higher education policy in more than a decade. And while the bill passed on partisan lines, implementing it to maximize student success and postsecondary value requires real bipartisan cooperation. With negotiated rule making under way, and 2026 implementation deadlines looming, a new deep-dive report from Inside Higher Ed, “After Reconciliation: Higher Ed Reform and Where Left–Right Collaboration Matters Most,” looks at conservative, progressive and institutional priorities and perspectives on three key areas of OBBBA: institutional accountability for student outcomes; new loan limits and payment reforms; and changes to the Pell Grant program, including the introduction of Workforce Pell.
Despite clear differences of opinion on various areas of the bill, many experts agree on the need for accountability, limits on excessive graduate debt and support for high-value training programs.
“The underlying principles here of stronger accountability for financial outcomes, of reining in excessive borrowing, especially in the graduate education space—those are bipartisan priorities that have been expressed for a long time,” says Michelle Dimino, director of education programs at the think tank Third Way. “These are conversations that we have been having in the higher education reform space for the last decade and beyond.”
Common concerns also emerge around the tight timeline for adoption, the data infrastructure to support changes, aligning earnings regulations, handling repayment plan transfers with care, protecting the Pell Grant budget and more. Another challenge: execution by an Education Department in transition.
“After Reconciliation: Higher Ed Reform and Where Left–Right Collaboration Matters Most” was written by Ben Upton. The independent editorial project is supported by Arnold Ventures.

Over the weekend we published blogs on the art of reimagining universities and on why the TEF could collapse under the weight of DfE and the OfS’ expectations.
Today’s blog was kindly authored by Nick Barthram, Strategy Partner at Firehaus and Merry Scott Jones, Transformation Partner at Firehaus and Associate Lecturer at Birkbeck, University of London.
It is the tenth blog in HEPI’s series responding to the post-16 education and skills white paper. You can find the other blogs in the series here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.
The government’s Post-16 Education and Skills White Paper sets a new tone for tertiary education in England. It is not just another skill or funding reform. It is a statement of intent about how universities, colleges, and employers should work together to build the country’s economic capability.
The paper sets out a broad reform agenda built around stronger employer collaboration, higher-quality technical education, and a more flexible lifelong learning system. Initiatives such as Local Skills Improvement Plans and the Lifelong Learning Entitlement illustrate how the system is being reshaped to enable post-16 institutions to play distinct, complementary roles within a shared ecosystem of skills and innovation. All of this will unfold against a backdrop of constrained funding, uneven regional capacity, and growing regulatory pressure, making clarity of role more important than the White Paper itself acknowledges.
While the paper avoids overt market language, the phrase comparative advantage does a lot of work. It invites universities to reflect on what they are best at and how that compares with others, without requiring them to openly compete. The intention is clear: to encourage institutions to define, and then demonstrate, their unique value. This is not new thinking. Advance HE, supported by a sector steering group including representation from AHUA, CUC, Guild HE and UUK, published a discussion paper last year on Measuring What Matters, exploring institutional performance and the importance of evidencing and communicating value creation.
For some, that will mean sharper choices about subjects, audiences, partnerships, and purpose. For others, it will be about aligning their contribution to regional priorities. Not every university serves its region in the same way. The most prestigious universities will act as lighthouses, shaping national and international ecosystems through research and innovation. Others will play a more local role, deepening their community impact and supporting regional industry.
The common thread is focus. Universities can no longer rely on breadth as a badge of strength. The challenge now is to identify what makes their contribution distinct and coherent, and to express that with clarity.
Responding to the White Paper will be a demanding process. It will call for rigorous analysis, evidence-gathering, and an honest evaluation of institutional strengths and weaknesses. It will also require a sophisticated understanding of stakeholders’ and audiences’ needs. And of course, diplomacy will be required to manage the trade-offs that follow. Every decision will carry consequences for identity, culture, and relationships.
In time, many universities will produce credible strategies: detailed statements of focus, lists of priorities, and maps of partnerships. But the real risk is stopping there. Institutional strategy alone will not create coherence.
Universities often complete strategic work and then move straight to execution, adding imagery or campaigns before uniting everything around a purpose that aligns what you offer and who it’s for. The step that often gets missed is articulation – translating strategic intent into something people can understand, believe in, and act on.
The White Paper calls for coherence across regions and the sector. Universities need to mirror that with coherence within their own walls. When purpose, culture, and communication line up behind a shared sense of direction, policy responses become practice, not just strategy. And this, fundamentally, is what the Government is seeking.
The groundwork for meeting these changes is only just beginning, with many hard yards still to come. While covering that ground, there are lessons from outside the sector worth remembering.
The Post-16 White Paper is ultimately a call for focus. For universities, that means not only deciding where they fit but demonstrating that fit clearly and consistently to students, partners, and staff.
Those who stop at strategy will adapt. Those who move beyond it — articulating their role with confidence, coherence, and conviction — will help define what a purposeful, modern university looks like in the decade ahead.

Student carers – those juggling unpaid caring for family or friends, as well as student parents – can often feel invisible to their higher education provider. Their needs cut across multiple areas, including attendance, assessment, finances and mental health, with many (quietly) facing the complicated arithmetic of balancing time, money and labour.
It is not only UK-domiciled students that face these challenges. Little addressed in the academic literature, international student carers face challenges both similar to and distinct from those experienced by UK home students.
Student carers of all nationalities describe disrupted attendance when emergencies arise, lost concentration, as well as difficult trade-offs between paid work and academic engagement.
Uncertainty amplifies these pressures: some students simply choose not to disclose information about their caregiving because of fear of stigma; others do not trust staff to handle with care what is a personal and sensitive dimension of their lives; still others do not know where to seek support.
Identifying carers, therefore, is a necessary first step to providing support. However, it is not always straightforward – institutions commonly lack routine, reliable data on caring status, making targeted support ad hoc rather than systemic.
Yet international student carers face additional, distinctive barriers that make the same problems harder to resolve. Visa rules are an illustrative example. These restrict when dependants can accompany students and cap the number of hours most international students can work during term-time.
For instance, students on degree-level courses can generally work up to 20 hours per week, while those on foundation and pre-sessional English routes are limited to ten hours. Self-employment is not permitted, and internships or placements must be approved by the sponsor.
For those caring for family overseas, emotional load and logistical complexity are high: families divide care across borders, rely on remittances, and use digital tools to coordinate support at distance. For those caring for dependants present in the UK, the absence of recourse to public funds combined with the limitations set on working hours further intensify financial challenges. These are not abstract constraints – students I have spoken to flagged the restriction on working hours as a core stressor that diverted their attention from study.
The UK policy context matters as it shapes what universities can and cannot do. While recent changes have tightened dependant rules for international students, universities still retain a significant degree of agency. These include proactive identification of student carers, flexible design of learning and assessment, targeted financial and career advice, as well as culturally sensitive outreach.
What does this look like in practice? First, it is time that institutions recognise that disclosure is not a single moment, but a process requiring trust. Rather than a “pray-and-hope” approach where students are asked to declare their caring status on a single form, universities should try to normalise conversations across the student lifecycle: in admissions, enrolment, welcome activities, academic tutorials and welfare checks. Staff training plays an important role here. Academic and professional services teams need concise guidance on how to spot signs of caring, how to ask sensitively, and how to go about making reasonable adjustments, be that through a Carer Passport or other means. This helps reduce the pressure on student carers to self-advocate.
Next, administrative burden needs to be reduced as much as possible – student carers are often acutely time poor. Tools like the just mentioned Carer Passport can help here by making informal agreements more formal and removing the need (and burden) of repeated disclosure.
Reasonable adjustments might include extended deadlines, alternative attendance arrangements, priority access to recorded lectures or seminar times. The design of such initiatives should not blindside carers, they should be involved in the development process. This co-production may also help tackle the trust deficit.
Third, financial and careers support must be tailored to visa realities. Generic money advice may be helpful, but is likely insufficient for international student carers’ needs, given the restrictions on working hours and access to benefits. One support route, if budgets allow, could be targeted bursaries, hardship funding that consider caring costs, and career advice that specifically addresses visa limits and limits of working hours. Partnerships with external funds and local community organisations could also be beneficial.
And finally, community can provide another support mechanism. Peer networks, carers’ groups and targeted social spaces allow student carers, particularly international ones who may be far from family networks, to share coping strategies and practical tips. These groups also provide powerful evidence to inform policy change within universities: student testimony should feed directly into institutional planning, not sit in a file.
None of the above requires revolutionary or even radical institutional reinvention – though it does demand time and allocation of resources. That said, I would contend that the efforts are worth it for a couple of reasons.
The first is that supporting international student carers is simply a matter of fairness. Secondly, but of equal importance, universities that make study feasible for (international) student carers will stand a better chance of attracting and retaining talent that might otherwise never apply or withdraw.
The absence of international student carers means a loss of enriching perspectives in the classroom – and conversely their presence entails a stronger evidence base from which to build inclusive practice.