For the past seven years, I’ve been affiliated with the Master’s Programs office in the Rossier School of Education at USC. Before that, I worked with students in the Department of Educational Leadership at University of Nevada, Reno (UNR). In each of these experiences, I have worked with students who have decided to take on considerable debt to complete their graduate work in education. I have held the belief that there is a return on investment for taking out loans for these programs, and I think that this has been the case for me, but I have often wondered how students make decisions about taking out loans for graduate school. I didn’t take out loans to complete my Master’s degree, but it wasn’t because of careful planning on my part; it was because I worked on the campus where I earned my degree and I was able to benefit from tuition remission. This also meant that I had to take a longer, part-time route to completion. If I was planning to set the world on fire by the time I was 25, that plan was definitely not a good one.

I’m not sure if this is commonly known, but there are not many grants and scholarships available for master’s level work. Most of the funding goes to undergraduate and doctoral students. I’m especially curious to know why students who are bringing in considerable loan debt from their undergraduate education decide to in some cases more than double that debt to complete graduate work. In my experience, this has happened more at USC than at UNR, but it still happened.

I recently received a small grant from the Provost’s Office at USC to further study this topic, but I would love to hear more from the blog-reading universe about how you decided to take out loans to complete your postgraduate work. Did you spend a lot of time thinking about your “pay back” strategy? Can’t wait to hear more about what your experience was like.

I’ll be completing the project by the end of next spring, so I’ll pass along updates as they become available.

These are some interesting numbers. As a nation, are we moving towards the Arizona reality?

I am fortunate to have many of those types of memories, memories that are more than just the sentimental musings of an English major. They are important because I have had the opportunity to reflect on my own humanity and to enlarge my understanding of the world in which I live. That is why I work to improve college access. Beside all of the statistics that illustrate the importance of college degrees for earnings, I know that I am a better person for every step extra I have taken as a first-generation college student.

Graduation is a time to celebrate beginnings and endings. I am at the end of my time as a Ph.D. student. It has been a long, rewarding journey. I have thrived from the support of my colleagues at the Rossier School of Education as well as the sociology department and the Price School of Public Policy. I have benefitted from the mentorship of a few select professors, most notably Bill Tierney, Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo, Gib Hentschke, Sylvia Rousseau, and Darnell Cole.

In the spirit of beginnings, I am happy to announce that I will start in the fall as an Assistant Professor at St. John’s University. I will discuss what that means for my blogging in a later post. But rest assured, I will still blog once a month at 21stcenturyscholar.

For now, to my fellow graduates from pre-school to graduate school, I wish you a happy graduation day.

We did it!

(Or, for those of you, like me, with defense dates set in a month or so, we have almost done it!)

Mr. Mathis, has any school ever told you ‘no’?

The above question was posed by a high school junior enrolled in my Collegiate Academic Scholars course in an Early College High School. In a recent conversation regarding my educational career, the student asked if I was ever denied to any of the colleges I applied to during my senior year of high school. Today, as I participate in the last of three commencement exercises for my Ph.D., I reflect on the 1999–2000 academic year. At that point in my life, I knew I wanted out of New York state. I selected three institutions, all who offered various forms of early admission options. The first, Siena College, offered a fast-forwarding Early Action. The second, SUNY University at Albany offered a traditional Early Action. The third, my alma mater American University, offered Early Decision. These three options were ideal for me, as I wanted to know where I would attend college as soon as possible. I figured if I was rejected in November and December, I still had the month of January (if not February, too) to send more applications out. I had a plan if I received denial letters; I hoped not to place the plan into action.

The purpose of the student’s question was rooted in concern. He added, “I’ve heard that some students were having a tough time getting accepted.” Over the past few months, I have worked with seniors who were submitting college applications, waiting to hear from schools, or responding to acceptance, denial, or wait-list letters or unfavorable financial aid packages. I use the following two vignettes to capture the successes and challenges faced by two seniors graduating from an Early College High School.

Impacted Major: Denied, Wait-Listed, or Canceled

I want to be an engineer. I’ve actually always wanted to be an engineer, so I applied to programs throughout California. I didn’t realize that if I applied to this major, I might not get in, despite my academic successes in high school. I did not receive an acceptance to any of the schools I applied to, either because of space, or because I wasn’t competitive enough. I maintained a great grade point average, received strong SAT scores. But that wasn’t enough. I am starting to question whether or not I should even pursue engineering. So, in the spring of my senior year, I am still applying to college. I will consider those schools still reviewing freshman applications, but it’s not what I want. I just want to go to college.

The above statement is a collection of field notes comprised into a narrative. Brian is still awaiting an affirmative acceptance to an engineering program. Had he applied undecided, he may have been admitted, yet not able to access courses noted as prerequisites for engineering majors. One of the college admissions counselors suggested that he instead attend a community college. Given that Brian completes coursework at local community colleges, this option was regarded as stagnant and potentially further delaying his success in college. What should Brian do? How might we avoid these challenges for future students?

First-Generation, Low-Income, and Parent PLUS Loan

I was accepted to a school I never dreamed of, yet I am not sure how I will pay for it. My financial aid award letter included any and all federal aid programs, including loans. When I thought of my attendance to ‘Aspirations College,’ I knew my family and I had little if any resources to make this a reality. The financial aid award letter confirmed that sentiment, when I was required to take over $35,000, per year, in Federal Parent PLUS Loans. The dollar figure is at or slightly less than our family’s adjusted income for the year. How is this going to happen Mr. Mathis? I don’t think I can attend Aspirations College. I will just go to ‘Option Two University.’ I hope that you are not upset, I don’t want to let you down. I just don’t know how I can make it with all those loans, every year.

The receipt of a financial aid award letter is at times even more intimidating than applying to college. For some families, the letter confirms obstacles existing for a child’s college attendance. Sam knew that he would be giving up a lot to attend Option Two, yet there was no clear way to finance attendance at Aspirations. When the letter arrived, Sam knew he could speak to his advocates who believed that Aspirations was a great fit. He wanted to process the information with trusted adults, and these institutional agents spoke on Sam’s behalf to key decision-makers at Aspirations College. Without these adults, Sam would have attended Option Two despite the resources that were available at Aspirations if one asked. Again, I pose to you, what might we do differently to ensure postsecondary access and success for first-generation, low-income college students? How can we assure and fortify pipelines that will remove the fear of “no” and replace it with empowerment.

In response to the question posed at the start, I did not receive a denial letter. I was blessed to have caring adults and institutional agents who provided insight and guidance through the admissions process. These two vignettes capture the essence of two young men planning to transition from high school to college, and these stories encourage me to do more. Are you willing to join the effort?

Both HTML5 and Flash are used to create webpages. HTML is a language, while Flash is a platform, but that’s a bit more technical than this post has reason to get. The reason for this post is simply to give you a thumbnail for the debate between the two, and what (if anything) is at stake.

HTML came first and represents the open standards movement on the web.

FLASH is a propriety platform owned and operated by Adobe, but without restrictions (at least since 2009). Nonetheless, it is technically not free software (since Adobe has the right to re-impose restrictions if they choose). Therein lies the problem: open source advocates aren’t comfortable with the propriety status of FLASH.

What’s so great about FLASH that open source advocates can’t get elsewhere? Well, that’s just it. Initially, FLASH upped the HTML ante by providing a so-called richer environment. In non-technical terms, FLASH made websites fancier with video, animations, and all sorts of other bells and whistles that are either visually pleasing or distracting (depending upon one’s online tolerance). HTML, in comparison, looked amateurish.

HTML5, however, changes that by replicating the functionality of FLASH in an open source context. It’s not perfect yet though, and some experts estimate it won’t be bug-free until 2022.

In the meantime, you’ll probably be hearing a lot of either or rhetoric when it comes to making a choice between the two. Tech advocates are enthusiastic about the possibilities both platforms offer users and the imagination and innovation that natively emerge from so-called competitive environments.

When I first arrived I always went to the Friday event. Given the various roles I’ve played here I even have gotten to walk toward the front of the line; I even led the thing in once when I was President of the Senate carrying the Mace (terrified that I would either drop the darn thing or get lost and lead everyone out onto Figueroa Street). A few years ago, however, I stopped going.  I guess I felt that I could spend my time in a better way and I became susceptible to the common complaints about how boring it was to sit through all the ceremonies and parking was tough, etc. No one bothered me about not attending or played on my Irish Catholic guilt and said, “You should really go.”

Recently, a colleague called to inform me that they’ve changed the Ph.D. hooding ceremony this year. That’s another ceremony where the faculty put on our robes and walk into the auditorium.  The vice provost reads out each candidate’s name, the professor hoods his or her student, and someone snaps a photo. The room is packed with friends and family and there is always those 10 seconds when the candidate is in the limelight and the parents and relatives applaud like crazy.

My colleague called to tell me that they were changing the ceremony because it was inefficient—and that it is. The thing drones on for three hours. I try to sit in the back and read something and tend to kibitz with my colleagues. The change that will happen is that the deans of the various schools will now hood the school’s candidates. When your student is called you get to stand up.

I suspect my colleague was worried about my reaction, but I mentioned that I have greater issues to worry about and the change is fine with me. I will probably skip this ceremony now as well. What’s the point?

Ceremonies are inefficient. My initial sense was that I attended some events became of an academic obligation to the culture of the academy. I’m famous (or perhaps, infamous) for skipping faculty meetings. I simply don’t find them very compelling, especially when 90% of the meeting has everyone sitting on their hands listening to one or another speaker. However, I have tried to be religious about attending those ceremonies that reinforce the values of the academy. I attended the Ph.D. hooding and grumbled about the waste of time because attaining the PhD.. remains a remarkable achievement (especially if you’ve suffered through having me as your chair). I attended the graduation, the honor’s convocation, the president’s inauguration, and a variety of other events because they speak to the values that the academy ostensibly holds.

I entirely understand why we want to be more efficient. I also understand what we lose if efficiency is the primary goal. Sometimes, when we are inefficient we actually make the organization stronger, more special. So it goes.

Late breaking news …

So many faculty were upset that they were not going to hood their students that the administration changed its mind.  This year will be like previous years.  Sometimes people’s voices and concerns are heard as we rush head-long into the future.

I argued, instead, that scholars, policymakers, and practitioners ought to consider a surplus perspective. Such a perspective refocuses discussions from what African American and Latino teenagers lack to how the educational system can better leverage extant strengths. It also facilitates a discussion of the types of cultural competencies that the educational system does and does not value. Shifting the discussion from intelligence and innate ability to cultural competencies is an important step to acknowledging the potential of all students.

Today, I would like to provide an example of what I mean by cultural competencies:

Chuck is one of the young men with whom I have had the privilege of working and mentoring throughout my dissertation. He likes to draw, skateboard, and dance. He excels at all three.

Capitalizing on his networking skills, Chuck forms skateboard and dance groups. One group is named Movable Parts; they use the name to distinguish themselves on YouTube in particular and in media in general. The group is known for “jerkin’,” a style of street dancing. He says, “I taught myself and I watch videos like YouTube that I made, and I enhance my dance moves. I danced on MTV and BET before, and I had little gigs with Snoop Dog and stuff.”

Chuck parlays YouTube hits into dancing sponsorships in order to receive free clothing. In one video, he competes against a friend. The person who posted the video wrote, “One of the best jerk battles around … Vote or Die … LOL.” The video lasts for seven minutes. The two, who exchange dance moves, perform the battle on a sidewalk in front of a concrete wall decorated with graffiti. After the first exchange, a bell rings and “Round Two” flashes across the screen. A song by two local musicians begins playing. Chuck begins. At the end of his turn, he tosses an imaginary ball in the air and hits it with an imaginary bat. Homerun.

The video receives over 105,122 views and 393 comments. The majority of viewers select Chuck. One writes, “Chuck all day.” Another posts, “Chuck kid go hrd.”

Chuck is an example of this sort of creative and entrepreneurial competencies that are not recognized in school. He also has a 1.7 grade point average. When I first met him, Chuck wanted to attend San Jose State, major in fine arts, and join the “Dirty Brushes,” an art club. However, I soon learned that he is ineligible to attend a Cal State or UC because of his poor grades. He will most likely have to go to Santa Monica College for a year and then transfer.

How is it possible that an educational system has failed to capitalize on such obvious talents? Chuck is one of the most creative individuals I have ever met. And yet, by conventional educational measures, he does not qualify to attend a Cal State.

If we are to address the gross inequalities occurring in schools today, it is time to acknowledge the cultural mismatch between the competencies students possess and what the educational system values.

One of them, chaired by Dorothy Espalage and Ron Astor, will look at the research in order to derive what schools, colleges, and universities can do to reduce bullying. When that young man last year committed suicide at Rutgers because he was outed I felt ashamed. I felt ashamed as an academic that we enable such actions and are not more proactive. AERA, as a research association, has something to say on these sorts of issues.

We also will have a task force on Evaluating Research, Teaching, and Service in the Academy that will be chaired by Jim Fairweather of Michigan State. Tenure is going through a sea-change. 80% of our membership work in colleges or universities and the association should have something to say about the working conditions of our members and one aspect of those working conditions pertain to tenure.

But note what I just said, “our members.” I’m always concerned when we’re only looking out for ourselves. The third Task Force, chaired by my friend and colleague at USC, Adrianna Kezar, will look at the working conditions of contingent faculty. They are the fastest growing group in academe, especially in education, but as an Association we have had very little to say about how we are treating our colleagues. I want to change that.

Please note that we can’t do everything. It sort of amazes me what we do. We have 25,000 members and a full-time staff of only 20. In case anyone is wondering no member of the Council or the Executive Board gets a nickel. As president I get no summer salary or anything else. I still have my day job. I don’t say this to complain or as an excuse. But we need to recognize that we need to pick and choose our issues judiciously. And because most of us on Council, the vast majority, are faculty—we are deliberative. Many of us want us to move more quickly—I know I do. Our work is improved, however, when it is critiqued by our colleagues. The process may be slow (some may say lethargic) but as long as we continue to focus on how our research might inform policy and practice we will be on the right road.

Over the next year I hope we work on a bunch of other issues. If we are to communicate to multiple audiences we need to do a better job of communicating. The website, twitter, social media—all of it needs a step up. Arnetha Ball wanted to go green this year with the telephone book we all carry around at the conference; for a variety of reasons we couldn’t, but I hope we can next year.

I want us to consider joining a group called Scholars at Risk which is an international association working on behalf of human rights. We are likely to say something about the affirmative action case heading to the Supreme Court. We are going to be in San Francisco next year and they have an unacceptably high level of homeless youth on the streets. I want us to say and do something about how to support the education of homeless youth. I’m also wondering if we should have a small group look at ways to change/improve the dissertation. The dissertation seems like a 20th century artifact that once worked well; I’m not so sure it is still the best vehicle to prepare one to do educational research. I also wonder if we shouldn’t say something about testing teachers based on the extant literature/research. We can’t do everything, but I hope that in addition to everything else we do, that we also take on difficult issues.

I’m also cognizant that our membership will have different viewpoints on many of these issues. I remain hopeful that we will be able to have amicable dialogues that foment thoughtful discussion and debate.

I welcome you to contact me. We may not always agree; I may not always do what you want me to do, but isn’t that really the essence of democracy—individuals are actively engaged with one another debating the type of community we wish to be.

Let me digress for a moment. I promise to get back.

When most people think of education (myself included), we don’t think about the business of education, we think of education as a profession, or more profoundly a calling. The mechanics of how we pay for it and even how it is administered is left for those poor souls not gifted enough to produce knowledge or to enthuse new generations hungry to learn the wisdom of ages. It really is a compelling romantic notion of how one passes along the knowledge of the human race. We have thousands of years of history of a process that brings each new generation an appreciation for what it means to be truly human. Universities have resisted the temptation (rightly so) to become the farm team for business enterprises. The job of universities is not to teach young people how to make a living, but how to make a life.

The history of establishing degrees really had its roots in Europe, although if examined more deeply, had its roots at the feet of Greeks like Socrates and Plato who led their students to examine and search for the Good, the Truth, the Just, and the Beautiful (elements of the Good life). The notions of degrees had monastic roots in the church and essentially provided a license to teach (the notion of Doctor in the early church referred to Apostles, to church fathers, and those who had the authority to interpret the Bible). The doctorate was the license to teach and was free of charge and controlled by the church. (The Third Council of Lateran in 1179 guaranteed free access to all applicants who were able to pass ecclesiastic tests.) But universities were established as early as 1088. (The university of Bologna  is known to be the oldest—hence, the reason for selection of the Bologna Accords.) Universities argued for the right to grant the licentia docendi (coctor’s license) directly (as opposed to by church authority) and in 1231 the Pope granted the University of Paris (later associated with the Sorbonne) the right to grant the universal license.

Universities granted intermediate steps to this license—the Magister (Masters) and the Baccalaureate (from the Latin baccalaureus, a term used to describe the squire of a knight). This followed the model of apprenticeship to the guilds that were common in those days to teach skills.

The early universities required candidates to complete 3–4 years of study in the prescribed texts of the Trivium (grammar, rhetoric, and logic) and the Quadrivium (mathematics, astronomy, geometry, and music)—more commonly known together as the liberal arts. It is not surprising that students took this curriculum—they were going to become preachers. It was also not surprising that students would travel long distances to universities. That was where there were books (still well before the invention of the printing press). What is not surprising is how unscathed this design has been for nearly a millennia.

Magister (from the Latin teacher) required further study and participation in managing disputes (telling truth if you would). Initially, the doctorate was held in three categories: divinity (of course—we were learning the Bible), philosophy (precursor of the modern Ph.D.), and medicine.

When Harvard started preparing young farm men to become ministers, it reached to a European tradition to determine what it meant to be an “educated man” (please forgive my sexist language here, but it was only men then). What seems so surprising in modern American higher education is how similar this all is to its origins. Government, science, and religion have all changed, but how we define an educated citizen hasn’t.

Let me get back to Tina Brown. What intrigued me about her interview was a discussion of a opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal entitled “Before ‘Watergate’ Could Be Googled” by L. Gordon Crovitz. Discussing a lecture by Woodward and Bernstein (of Washington Post fame) they referred to how relatively sophisticated Yale students in an advance Journalism class believed that technology would have changed everything about Watergate reporting. How do you find facts, according to the Yale students? Just look it up on the internet. The details will be there. Tina Brown lamented “these students were so trained and so used to going online and finding already discovered facts, they weren’t thinking about how those facts could be created from the ground up.” She summarizes her concerns nicely—“It’s almost as if young journalists today really do think everything can be found online.”

So what are we selling? Now more than ever universities give the imprimatur of what it means to be an educated person (religious reference intended). In many ways a degree is still the good housekeeping seal of approval and as Bill so eloquently spelled out earlier this week, it still carries great economic value in our society. Although the world has changed drastically, how one goes providing proof hasn’t changed.

If we really go back to our roots, it becomes increasing more important in an information age where the line between fact and opinion blurs reality, the noble goals of being arbiters of truth become even more important. This is especially true when students believe that all the world’s facts magically appear (much like many Americans who believe that our food and energy magically appear because no one we know really is producing them). Additionally, we may go back to our roots where able students can show through tests that they can tell truth from fiction, and more importantly know how to think critically and question sources. It is easy to pooh pooh scholars because they are focused on increasingly narrower areas of knowledge production, but the act of creating and cataloguing new knowledge is a noble profession. How we go about proving up our bona fides may change, but to keep us progressing, we must know the method to judge truth, beauty, justice, and good and although college helps, there just may be other ways.