Should universities be servicing a market for declining standards?

Bars of chocolate have recently gotten smaller, while their price has doubled. But because we’re all in a hurry and yearning for a sugar hit, we still buy them anyway.

I can’t help feeling that this is analogous to how American students see higher education these days – especially post-pandemic. I can’t help feeling that in some universities, both traditional and online, students are being scammed, as authentic, humane learning is replaced by quick-fire study for boilerplate qualifications whose price just keeps rising.

In early 2020, when the pandemic hit full force, educators and administrators went into shock. The idea of using the internet as a teaching tool had been floating around for more than two decades, and many universities had small, inconspicuous cadres of IT experts who gently nudged academics to experiment with it. But while some of us learned to “edutain” our students in this way, most colleagues were unprepared for the abrupt transition and did not enjoy it. As one of mine put it: “It’s a different art form.”

Perhaps surprisingly, many students didn’t like classes conducted entirely on Zoom, either. “If I pay tuition, I want the full experience,” one undergraduate told me. “And that means meeting my friends after class, going to football games, and partying at the frat house. If I can’t do that, the university should cut the tuition price, maybe by 50 per cent.”

Whatever you think of the educational value of football games or YouTube videos, the fact is that face-to-face classes offer more than information. Acquiring social, cultural and communication skills requires shared experiences and exposure to unique personalities. And students learn better when they struggle to achieve something together, as a team. Many professors feel that this can be achieved via online courses, but the face-to-face environment promotes more authentic communication and deeper relationships. Some colleagues have reported that their students are more empathetic and patient when working together face to face.

Yet students have not flocked back to reopened campuses. Enrolment in public universities has significantly decreased. It is still unclear to what extent online tuition will replace physical lectures long term, but parents and students now question the value of paying ever-rising tuition costs for a university education that may be online.

Meanwhile, weariness at the constant struggle to hold students’ attention, both online and in person, is common among my faculty friends. “They’re always on their phones,” a French teacher told me. “I’m teaching and they’re looking at Instagram. It’s disrespectful.” Her course count had also dropped dramatically. “Students learn French on YouTube or via Duolingo,” she said, “and neither gives authentic assessments or homework, so they find it more fun.”

Even pre-pandemic, researchers such as Jean Twenge started recognising that young people were losing their ability to concentrate for an extended period. “The internet has colonised their minds,” a linguist told me. “All [his students] do are superficial searches for topics. They tell me they don’t have time to do comprehensive reading any more.” Other colleagues have also reported that their students do not want to “waste time in the classroom” discussing ideas because the “information is already posted on various websites”. One professor deferred to her students and tried instead to teach them digital literacy, hoping they would be savvy enough to question the veracity of sources, even if they weren’t willing to reflect deeply on their contents.

Many US universities, of all stripes, have expanded their certificate programmes to lure students who are too impatient to study for several years. These can be expensive, but, as the saying goes, time is money. Such programmes originated in for-profit online universities, which initially catered to non-elite working people, older people changing jobs and students – or customers, as University of Phoenix founder John Sperling was first to call them – in non-academic career tracks, such as nursing assistants.

It is too late to stop the commercialisation of American universities, but the question remains: does a 24-hour credit certificate really denominate mastery of museum science, educational technology or teaching English as a second language? After all, vocational students must have many more hours of study, plus practicum hours, to qualify as nail techs or hair stylists even before they pass state boards.

Some researchers feel that if academic standards decline, cognitive abilities will follow suit. The brain is a muscle that must be stimulated properly so that all aspects of our human experience are processed in ways that promote reflection, creativity and harmony with others and the world around us.

Students complain that university courses are not focused on solving contemporary problems. Most do not want medieval studies, Farsi, Eastern philosophy or other esoteric subjects because they do not think these subjects will generate profitable careers. So university administrators have eliminated a great many liberal arts courses; it is the only way their institutions can survive. Implementing relevant courses for the majority may be an appropriate choice – and we should support the students and administrators who are pressing for more courses that address pressing global environmental and social issues. But relegating medieval studies to a few select colleges remains somewhat tragic.

Gen Z and Millennials think they can have it all: work full time, go to school full time and be a spouse and parent full time. To me, this attitude seems unreasonable, if not unhealthy, and it defies the need for true learning. My university-based pursuit of knowledge required endless hours of sitting quietly in libraries to think and read.

Yet what are today’s scholars-in-training to do? Only a privileged few can afford to enter university without considering the debt they will incur. And what is a university to do, if not cater to its clientele?

Valerie Sartor is an English as a second language instructor the Defense Language Institute English Language Center (DLIELC), Texas. She was previously an assistant professor at the University of Akron, Ohio.