I recently had the privilege of being interviewed by the Worcester Telegram and Gazette regarding my educational and career path. Perhaps most people assume that the pathway to a dean’s role at a selective private research institution like Clark University is a predictable trajectory. It is not. Most of my colleagues have a great deal of work diversity in their background. Some came to their current role by way of science fiction literature, while others came to their roles via the study of music or geography. What we all share is our common experience in obtaining our credentials. Our world view and our career pathways vary a great deal.
One of the facets of my past that the reporter decided to focus on was the fact that my undergraduate experience took ten years — largely the result of my failed first year at university. At the time, the failure felt devastating and demoralizing. I was a first-generation college student from a French-speaking Canadian family in northern Maine. For many in my family, the failure represented an acknowledgement that people with my ethnic background simply did not belong.But, like the Garth Brooks song "Unanswered Prayers," my failure allowed me to define my passions. Had I not failed, I may well have ended up as an engineer in the pulp and paper industry of Northern Maine — an industry, by the way, which was doomed to disappear over the course of my lifetime. As it turns out, my failure caused me to regroup, get a job, work and pay for school part-time. That experience, along with the support of my family and the faculty of my local university, gave me insight to a career path that was indeed much more vibrant and exciting than one I had originally conceived.
Failures, I’ve learned, are often the pathway to success.
Higher education in America today has lost some of its shine. In some respect, it is experiencing its own type of failure. Our tuition rates are seen as unsustainable. The recent admissions corruption scandal has lifted the veil on the dark side of big money influence on our campuses. The rankings that drive selectivity often are seen as filters that discourage students of color from being welcomed in our institutions. The shifting demographic of our traditional student pipelines are causing stress and strain on our core business model. Sector news has increasingly become negative. Some feel we are becoming irrelevant. In fact, what I see is quite the opposite.
As higher education recognizes its failures and confronts its shortcomings, it improves and becomes more resilient. When things are in transition, it is often difficult to see the future — but if we look closely, we can see the signs of positive change.
The role of advanced education has always been to educate the leaders of tomorrow. Yet, many institutions became inwardly focused. They lost sight of the talent needs of industry and government. While our student numbers grew, there was no need to focus on our outcomes. After all, we had plenty of students to fill our seats. Our rating systems focused on inputs, not outputs. We focused on keeping people out rather than welcoming them in and increasingly ignored the shifts in our larger society.
As the demographics shifted and as many in government began to withdraw resources, our business model was threatened. In Massachusetts alone, six colleges have announced their intent to close or merge within the last 12 months. While devastating for the people associated with these schools, most schools in the sector are shifting gears in positive and exciting ways. Our industry is recognizing the costs of failure and change is increasingly welcomed.
Schools are opening up career paths through experiential education. New and relevant credentials are being created. Technical education is being infused with traditional liberal arts education to produce technologically competent graduates who are also fluent in human organizations. Interdisciplinary education is quickly becoming the norm. There is a heightened attention to student retention and the overall student experience. New strategies to engage and enroll students of minority communities are being developed. Schools are also searching to define and amplify their value proposition as they make their case to segmented student markets.
With this shift, our outcomes are increasingly important. Our students ask us if they will get a job upon graduation. Parents want to understand our student support systems. Communities implore us to contribute to the quality of life on our streets. Even our ranking agencies are increasingly focused on where our students go rather than where they came from. People want to know how we are leveraging technology to be more efficient, accessible, and effective. Even our faculty are challenging the sector to focus on the important things rather than fringe activities. To some traditionalists in higher education, all of this change is uncomfortable and does not sit well. Yet, these changes position schools for a new generation of growth and development.
For those schools willing to acknowledge and learn from failure, the future is quite bright.
We will retain and better serve our students. We will find new ways to talk to and recruit communities of color. We will create new educational pathways that are meaningful to the employer community and the students we serve. We will learn to serve our students for their early years and beyond. We will leverage technology to be more effective teachers and more accessible to new student populations.
The reporter from the Telegram wanted to know what motivated me to persist for ten years while I worked on my first degree. I told her that it was not the work on the degree that motivated me. It was where I wanted to go with that credential. In many respects, the journey became the education. So it is with our institutions of higher learning.
If we view this period of change as an education, the journey is likely to be exciting.
John G. LaBrie, Ed.D., is dean of Clark's University's School of Professional Studies and associate provost for professional education.
