What colleges could learn from the military about serving low-income students
By Karin Fischer October 23, 2016
The Chronicle of Higher Education
Was Daniel M. Piston college material?
A decade ago, as a high-school student in Syracuse, N.Y., Mr. Piston didn’t think so. He lacked focus. His grades were so-so. And it wasn’t like he was surrounded by college graduates; of his family, only his mother had earned an associate degree.
“The truth is,” Mr. Piston says, “I didn’t think I was smart enough for college.”
After finishing high school, he signed up for an automotive-technology program at nearby Onondaga Community College — a similar course his senior year was the first thing he had been any good at, he says — but, still unmoored, he dropped out after two semesters. He found himself on the doorstep of the local Navy recruiter. The Navy promised excitement, and it offered something else: a life path.
Mr. Piston became a helicopter crew chief, serving missions to support ships in the Persian Gulf and provide humanitarian assistance to earthquake-devastated Haiti. His six years in the Navy instilled discipline, perseverance, and a belief in himself, and, at the urging of his military mentors, he began to think about returning to school. He ended up back in Syracuse, at Syracuse University. In May, the guy who didn’t think he was college-worthy graduated with honors. He plans to go on and get a master’s, maybe even a Ph.D.
Mr. Piston, now 29, is smart and hard-working, but even so, the odds were against him. First-generation college students like him, kids from low-income families, and racial or ethnic minorities — even those who are plenty bright, with diligence to spare — are less likely than their peers to go to college and even less likely to graduate.
In the military, however, the class divide breaks the other way. Analysis of recruitment data has found that young people from lower- and middle-income backgrounds are overrepresented in the armed forces. The less your family makes, the more likely you are to serve.
College’s socioeconomic fault line is hardly a revelation, but it shouldn’t be an enduring reality. That’s what David A. Longanecker, who just stepped down after 17 years as executive director of the Western Interstate Commission for Higher Education, said on a recent visit to The Chronicle: that he didn’t believe we ought to accept such inequities. After all, he said, there’s another institution out there that takes in 18- to 24-year-olds and prepares them to get jobs and contribute to society. With populations that colleges struggle to reach and serve, the military seems to have more success.
Of course there are real distinctions between the two institutions. Enlisting promises an immediate paycheck, while in higher education, the costs are upfront and the benefits longer term. Though some colleges are open access, and some recruits wash out of the military, in general the latter has lower barriers to entry. Young people apply to college with the hope of being selected; to join the service, they simply sign up.
It’s also worth recalling that the military hasn’t always come by its diversity easily. Integration was by order. Post-Vietnam unpopularity and the move to an all-volunteer force compelled military leaders to recruit far more aggressively — and, some would argue, to focus those efforts on poor and minority populations.
Still, the two institutions have enough in common that the proposition seems worth exploring. Each confers individual benefits, providing personal and professional development, while meeting a public good. For lessons in better attracting and retaining underrepresented students, should higher education look to the experience of service members? The country’s future — and therefore colleges’ — is poorer and less white. Could Uncle Sam hold the answers, at least some of them, for best reaching that population?
Heather Ainsworth for The Chronicle
At the encouragement of his mentors in the military, Mr. Piston, now 29, enrolled in college. He graduated with honors from Syracuse U. in May with a degree in health and exercise science.
They air during the X Games and March Madness, are sandwiched between trailers for the latest blockbuster at the movie theater, pop up in Facebook feeds.
They are ads for the United States Army, Navy, Air Force, and Marines. They feature the quick cuts of a video game, heart-pounding action, and stirring scenes of burly soldiers protectively cradling crying children.
Combined, those four branches of the military plan to spend about $575 million in the next year on advertising, according to the U.S. Government Accountability Office.
Such vast resources to influence public perception and bring in new recruits dwarf the marketing budgets of college-admissions offices. Yet the real contrast isn’t about money, observers say, but approach.
Colleges’ marketing efforts have grown in sophistication since the days of simply mailing viewbooks to high-school juniors who made a good showing on the PSAT. Even so, few traditional nonprofit colleges have unleashed the kind of full-throated publicity blitz that the armed forces regularly do. While a university might erect a billboard touting its part-time M.B.A. program or sign on to sponsor a local sports team, typically only for-profit institutions mount mass advertising campaigns.
“There’s a sense in traditional higher ed,” Mr. Longanecker says, “that advertising yourself is déclassé.”
He isn’t suggesting that colleges buy up all the available airtime on their local television stations. Public institutions, in particular, might face pushback from lawmakers over such a use of taxpayer money. Rather, the military’s investment in advertising, Mr. Longanecker and others suggest, is part of a broader philosophy of proactive engagement. It’s not just about swaying a largely self-selecting group that has already shown some interest, as colleges tend to do, but about reaching out to those who might not have seriously considered their next step.
“The military approach is kind of a push approach,” says Sidney Ellington, executive director of the Warrior-Scholar Project, an organization that runs academic boot camps to prepare veterans to apply to top universities. “The college approach is more of a pull. It’s ‘Oh, you go to our website and it’s all there. You can figure it out.’”
Go to the Air Force’s recruitment site, and you’re immediately prompted to enter your ZIP code. Up pops the address and contact information for the closest recruiter, along with directions to get there.
When Mr. Piston, the Navy veteran turned college grad, was considering enlisting, he got in his car and drove the couple of miles to a local recruitment center. There he was able to sit down with a recruiter who explained the enlistment process and helped him figure out the career options he might have in the military. Over several visits, the man answered all the questions that Mr. Piston and his parents had. “It was definitely a positive experience,” he says.
Contrast that with one young woman’s full eight-hour day going from office to office to try to register for classes at a local community college. For first-generation and nontraditional students unfamiliar with the workings of a campus bureaucracy, such situations can be next to impossible to navigate. If that woman hadn’t been accompanied by her brother, already a student at the college, she might have given up, says Tanya Ang, director of veterans’ programs at the American Council on Education, who shared the story. “We have to make certain that there are no wrong doors,” says Ms. Ang, a former college registrar, “that we’re not turning students away.”
For the military, bricks-and-mortar recruiting offices serve as a front door, with the recruiter a greeter and guide to help steer prospective service members through the enlistment process. In practice and by necessity, college recruiters often “parachute in,” says Brian T. Prescott, of the National Center for Higher Education Management Systems, showing up in the community once or twice a year for a fair or information session.
Perhaps it is unrealistic for institutions, whether with a regional or national footprint, to have a day-to-day presence, to set up storefronts in places with low college-going rates. The lesson that colleges should take away, says Daniel J. Kaufman, a retired brigadier general and a former president of Georgia Gwinnett College, is one of outreach.
“We can’t just assume they will always come to us,” he says. “We need to say, ‘We’ll go to you.’”
General Kaufman spent five years as provost at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, his alma mater, before signing on as the Georgia public college’s first president in 2005. Leading a start-up college with an access mission, he quickly realized that early engagement was key.
So Georgia Gwinnett started reaching out to students as young as fifth grade, dropping in on their classes, busing them in for visits, and hosting summer camps focused on math and technology. The college also sought to build relationships with their parents, most of whom had not attended college themselves. The focus wasn’t on one-time contacts, but sustained connections.
Being a consistent presence helped establish trust, says General Kaufman, who stepped down in 2013. From an inaugural class of 100, Georgia Gwinnett today enrolls more than 11,000 students. Of the 8,000 full-time students, 57 percent receive Pell Grants, the federal aid for low-income students, a share about 20 percentage points higher than the national average.
By getting out in the community, colleges plant the seed that a degree — from their institution or another — is both attainable and worthwhile. But for teenagers without friends or family members who have taken that path, it can be difficult to cultivate the sense that, yes, they belong in college.
For some, enlisting may be the more instinctive option because they know so many more people who have done it, says James E. Wright, president emeritus of Dartmouth College and a former Marine who advocates to get more veterans to attend elite colleges. “There’s kind of a legacy at work.”
Or if not, the recruiter serves as a bridge. Oftentimes recruiters come from communities very much like the ones they work in, allowing them to seem at once relatable and aspirational.
Although college-admissions staffs have become increasingly diverse, they don’t always look like the students they hope to recruit. “There’s a cultural and social divide,” says Mike Haynie, vice chancellor for strategic initiatives and innovation at Syracuse.
That can cut in both directions. A recent study found that admissions officers’ own backgrounds may influence their decisions — and potentially penalize less-affluent applicants. In the study, white admissions officers were less likely than their minority counterparts to look favorably on applicants from low-income backgrounds.
But beyond who recruits is what they say to the young men and women they want to encourage to apply or enlist.
Consider some of the slogans, past and present, touted by the military: “Aim high.” “Accelerate your life.” “Be all you can be.”
Today’s Army hopes recruits will choose #TeamArmy. “One day they may be asked what they did to make a difference in this world,” an ad intones. “And they can respond, I became a soldier.” As the screen goes to black, words flash: “Join the team that makes a difference.”
The message is inclusive rather than exclusive, playing on the appeal of being part of something larger than yourself. It also encourages the prospective recruit by underscoring what the individual can contribute, says Mr. Longanecker, the former Wiche executive director. “It says, ‘We want you, we need you.’”
Many colleges, too, now have campaigns to promote their institutions. But marketing experts frequently criticize the taglines as generic and ineffectual. “Real Tradition, Real Success.” “From Here You Can Go Anywhere.”
And any marketing is on the institutional level. Higher education as a whole doesn’t have its own brand identity; there’s no “Got Milk?” for college. That means prospective students could be subject to messages from more than 4,000 colleges, compared with the military’s five branches. The surfeit of slogans could be confusing or cancel one another out.
When there is a clear message, it often stresses rankings, highlighting the share of applicants with top test scores or grades. Selectivity is baked into the system: A college’s reputation is largely measured by how many students it turns away.
Taken as a whole, Mr. Longanecker says, that signals to people, “We’re a special place, so show us that you’d fit.”
There’s another narrative that swings in the military’s favor: Rightly or wrongly, military service comes off as more of an adventure.
It’s no accident that many military recruiting videos resemble adrenaline-charged video games. The military is selling excitement, plus a paycheck. Higher education? Two or four (or maybe six) more years of schoolwork. Debt. Delayed gratification. Even with climbing walls and lazy rivers, higher education has a hard time matching those thrills.
And that’s just recruitment. If first-generation and low-income students make it to college, they’re still less likely to get through and earn a degree.
Seven years after her active duty in the Army, Martha Kinney decided to go to graduate school. Ms. Kinney, who goes by Murph, had stayed on in the Reserves, where she served as a battalion training officer, spearheading both basic training and continuing education for the soldiers in her command.
While doing doctoral coursework in European history, she was asked to be a teaching assistant for several large introductory courses. What she saw ran counter to what she’d learned in the Army about how best to learn.
Students would come to her completely lost. They didn’t understand what they were being asked to do on a particular assignment or how they were being evaluated. They couldn’t tell an “A” paper from an “F.” Sometimes they hadn’t learned the basic skills needed for a project.
“We had these world-class intellectuals teaching the classes,” says Ms. Kinney, now an associate professor of history at Suffolk County Community College, in New York, “but the students didn’t understand a thing.”
In Army parlance, they were being asked to run before they could walk.
The military prepares its forces differently, Ms. Kinney and others say. From the beginning, new recruits and their commanders map out a clear career path. It’s both highly structured and studded with short-term goals: a certificate here, a credential there. Check-ins are frequent; mentors evaluate progress and, if necessary, help service members recalibrate.
Though education is necessarily distinct from vocational training, aspects of the military’s approach seem readily adaptable to campuses, particularly to the community colleges and less-selective institutions that enroll the largest share of low-income and first-generation students.
When Ms. Kinney started teaching 15 years ago, she relied more on her Army experience than on anything she had learned about teaching in grad school. The idea of scaffolding skills was key, building up from the easiest concept to the most complex. In the military, new recruits don’t immediately jump to doing live-fire exercises. They break down the component skills and run through simulations.
Likewise, before Ms. Kinney handed out her first big writing assignment, she would talk in class about what makes a good paper and review a similar essay that earned a top grade. Students would practice things like citations. Only then would she send them off — with a checklist of what she expected — to complete their papers. After they were done, she asked them for feedback, to shape how she handled the assignment the next time around.
In pedagogical circles, Ms. Kinney’s strategy is known as transparent teaching, the idea that instructors should be explicit with students about what they’re being asked to do, why, and how the assignment will be evaluated. All students can be successful, the thinking goes, if they understand the unwritten rules of college.
“In the military, you just cannot say, ‘That soldier can’t learn.’ You figure out how to inculcate skills,” Ms. Kinney says. “It doesn’t seem right to say that a student can’t learn.”
Ms. Kinney isn’t the only veteran to apply her armed-forces experience to her academic career. General Kaufman at Georgia Gwinnett asked professors to take attendance and to call students who missed more than a few classes. In the military, sleeping in and skipping a morning of boot camp isn’t an option.
Steven Oluic, dean of arts and sciences at Lakeland Community College in Ohio, encourages a similar attendance policy because, he says, students who are academically ill-prepared can least afford to miss class. But he also wants to send another message: Your professor cares that you show up.
Mr. Oluic, who traveled the world and earned a Ph.D. during a 27-year Army career, says he occasionally gets resistance from faculty members who argue that students are adults who should take responsibility for their own behavior.
“Yes, they’re adults,” says Mr. Oluic, “but they’re adults who need guidance.”
The military doesn’t have the luxury of allowing its recruits to fail — after all, their safety, and that of their unit, rests on their performance.
Be All You Can Be … on Campus
Colleges struggle to reach low-income and minority populations, but the military seems to have more success. What strategies might colleges try?
Aspirational advertising: Not just swaying a self-selecting group that has already shown interest, but appealing to people who may not have considered their next steps.
Inclusive messages: Rather than highlighting selectivity, playing on the idea of being part of something larger than oneself and underscoring what one individual can contribute.
Diverse recruitment teams: Bridging a perceived cultural and social divide between campus staff and the prospective-student population.
Consistent outreach: Building relationships with children and parents to establish a presence in the community.
Smoother sign-ups: Easing the process for prospective students to apply and register for classes.
Structured advising: Mapping out a long-term plan studded with short-term goals.
Steady mentorship: Providing guidance and encouragement, whether from advisers or peers, to keep students on track.
Transparent teaching: Clarifying expectations for assignments and academic success.
“If a soldier can’t load an M-16,” Ms. Kinney says, “you’ve got a problem. If a student can’t write, those are different stakes.”
But it’s becoming apparent that the stakes are high for higher education, too. Colleges, like the military, are refining their strategies to answer ever more sophisticated demands.
At Lakeland, an emphasis on academic counseling is part of the college’s revamped first-year experience, which Mr. Oluic likens to basic training. New students and soldiers alike, he says, “need structure and need discipline.”
As in the military, coaching at the community college begins early. New students now sit down with an adviser during their first weeks on campus to design a plan for the rest of their time there. They set long-term career goals and map out a course of study to help them reach those objectives.
The military also emphasizes peer-to-peer mentoring, assigning more-seasoned members of a unit to work with new recruits, says Charles G. Krulak, a former Marine Corps commandant and retired president of Birmingham-Southern College. The buddy system serves as the “first line of defense” against retention or performance problems, General Krulak says. If your partner is falling down on assignments or struggling with tasks, “you’re on them like ravens on roadkill.”
For Mr. Piston, the Navy veteran, mentorship was about more than encouragement. Advisers helped him identify goals and piece together a long-term plan to achieve them.
It took a year and a half of preparation before he reached his permanent duty, as a helicopter crew chief. He spent four months learning naval aviation and five weeks training as a rescue swimmer. He attended survival school in the Maine woods. Some of the drills were brutally physical, while other times the work, like learning the science of helicopter flight, was punishingly mental, requiring hours of study each night. Even after he got his long-term assignment, he continued his education, qualifying to become an emergency medical technician.
With each new credential, Mr. Piston says, his confidence grew. In fact, he says, his success instilled in him a belief that he might just be able to handle college.
If some of that sounds familiar, it’s because higher education has been adopting similar approaches. Community colleges especially are experimenting with guided or structured pathways, aligning courses to lead to certificates, degrees, and jobs, and providing careful, consistent counseling to keep students on track.
The military’s emphasis on cumulative certifications has its higher-ed corollary in the movement toward stackable credentials, the idea that the components of a degree can be broken into courses that build on one another and have immediate applicability. Students can at once work toward a degree and acquire skills that help them land a job or promotion. Many strategies being embraced by colleges today were long on the periphery of educational practice, and have been brought in from the cold by greater attention to completion.
Kay M. McClenney, a former director of the Center for Community College Student Engagement at the University of Texas at Austin, is leading a national pilot project on pathways. She compares a pathway to a highway marked by clear signs with multiple off-ramps to appealing destinations. By contrast, for too many years, many institutions were “cafeteria colleges,” she says, where students “wandered in, sampled some things, and then were out the door.”
“They accumulated credits and debt,” she says, “without getting a credential.”
Some of the strategies being adopted by colleges today resemble military practices, Ms. McClenney says. Technical colleges in Tennessee have increased completion rates by embracing a less-flexible structure, while the City University of New York provides students in remedial courses with intensive tutoring and advising. Like the armed forces, colleges are becoming more data-driven, undertaking regular assessment and using feedback to improve their performance.
But Ms. McClenney, whose grandson is training to be a member of the Special Forces, cautions that there are limits to the applicability of the military model. “We don’t want to turn into drill sergeants,” she says.
While some students may benefit from greater structure, it wouldn’t be appropriate for colleges to take on the military’s degree of control. Too tightly delineating students’ pathways could tip over into tracking. And no one would celebrate a disproportionate share of low-income or minority students ending up in dead-end or lesser-paying jobs. “That could exacerbate,” Ms. McClenney says, “what we’re trying to fix.”
Surveys asking military personnel why they decided to enlist find time and again that one of the top reasons is that they want an education. They want to go to college, but they join the military. Why?
There are financial reasons, of course, benefits that defray the cost of attendance. What’s at work, though, seems to go beyond money. The military can take someone who has been floundering and give that person focus and self-assurance. It’s as if, to see themselves as students, they have to become soldiers.
For colleges, the challenge may be to get more young people to see themselves that way in the first place.
By Sean Gallagher October 23, 2016
The Chronicle of Higher Education
Today it is widely accepted — if often still debated — that job preparation is one of the fundamental purposes of higher education. College-issued credentials play a major role in the way employers evaluate talent and make hiring decisions, and have become increasingly valuable in our modern economy. Although important experiments and challenges to the primacy of the college degree are percolating, higher-education credentials such as degrees and certificates remain the gold standard in hiring. But if colleges want to remain relevant, they must be more innovative in designing and evaluating the credentials they award.
We live in an age in which there is lots of innovation, but also many questions, related to the sustainability of higher-education business models, which are founded on the production of such credentials as degrees and certificates. According to data from the job-market-analytics firm Burning Glass Technologies, half of the 27 million job postings over the course of 2015 required a bachelor’s degree or above.
However, aligning higher education with employers’ hiring needs is a moving target, because of rapidly evolving corporate practices and skills demands, as well as an increasingly competitive and global market for job talent. Greater change is occurring today in how employers identify and acquire talent than at any point in the past 30 years, as research for my new book on academic credentials has shown. This has the potential to reshape the utility of higher-education credentials as job qualifications. The innovation in hiring is fueled by the rise of “talent strategy” (making the identification of strong future candidates a corporate priority); the availability of new technologies and tools such as cloud-based human-resource systems; and the new and improved ability to track and analyze human capital and performance data on a large scale.
Nervousness over the economy and questions about the value of a college degree have contributed to growing expectations that colleges must make career services a priority. This special report on innovation examines some of the career-counseling efforts underway — by colleges, start-ups, and collaborations between the two.
Many colleges are turning to such partners to create new types of linkages to the job market. However, it is not enough for colleges to simply employ stopgap measures or look to outside partners alone. More-fundamental change is needed in how institutions think about, design, and produce credentials, arguably their most prominent product. Colleges would be wise not to cede their market position and their employer relationships to start-up companies or emerging degree substitutes from a lack of vision, nimbleness, market orientation, or investment capital.
Colleges can take a number of steps to enhance the job-market value of their academic credentials. Among them:
Recognize that employers and industry groups should be involved in the development of curricular offerings. Four-year colleges need to let go of the tired notion that professionally aligned education is too “vocational” and encourage employers, along with faculty members, to take part in designing academic programs (as many community colleges already do). Yes, the skills and competencies demanded by employers are often technical or specialized in nature. But colleges may be surprised to find that some of the most in-demand skills in today’s job market today are analysis, critical thinking, and writing — all of which are at the core of the liberal arts.
Colleges would be wise not to cede their market position and their employer relationships to start-up companies or emerging degree substitutes.
In addition to working with employers to design programs for which there is high demand, colleges should take advantage of new technologies such as job-market analytics software, which can analyze trends across millions of job postings. Such tools make it possible for academic leaders to continuously fine-tune their curricula in a way that wasn’t possible only a few years ago.
Develop and update academic programs more quickly, to match the pace of the job market. Academe’s current systems of curricular design and governance were built for an earlier era. The ability to quickly launch new programs or pivot with the needs of a changing job market is one of the major advantages of today’s popular nonacademic providers of professional credentials, such as Udacity and Pluralsight. Such companies are not constrained by agrarian academic calendars, faculty politics, and annual approval cycles. This type of adjustment is a necessity given the half-life of knowledge in an economy where technologies, skill sets, and even disciplines are constantly evolving.
Create shorter-term program offerings to respond to growing demands for specialized education. As part of the much-discussed “unbundling” of higher education, colleges should not be afraid to break apart the monolithic degree. Particularly in a technology-driven economy, employers are increasingly looking for job candidates who have kept their skills updated and demonstrated initiative through targeted lifelong-learning experiences. The unbundling trend is often positioned as offering affordability and access through alternatives to the traditional degree, but flexible offerings are also popular because they meet growing demands for more specialized programs aligned with specific competencies. While many academic institutions are experimenting with competency-based education, employers are moving toward competency-based hiring, and more rigorously matching actual job requirements to candidates’ abilities. Higher-education credentials must operate at a higher resolution in this new landscape.
Integrate work experience into the curriculum. While the boundaries between education and job experience have always been fluid, employers’ accounts of how they make hiring decisions and students’ accounts of their job-search experiences make clear that both audiences increasingly favor curricular offerings that integrate real-world job experience and work products. Capstone projects offered in some courses are one example; others include e-portfolios, internships, yearlong paid corporate residencies, and cooperative education.
Because such experiences are increasingly taking place in virtual environments and can be tracked digitally, they provide a data trail and digital fingerprint that can enhance the transparency and value of a student’s academic credentials.
The evolution of hiring, the growth of a global work force, and the rise of new technologies need not be thought of as a wave crashing over the bow of higher education, threatening to wash away the value of a college degree. Rather, these shifts create an opportunity for forward-looking colleges to sustain their value by moving beyond century-old thinking about academic credentials.
Sean Gallagher, chief strategy officer for Northeastern University’s Global Network, is the author of The Future of University Credentials: New Developments at the Intersection of Higher Education and Hiring (Harvard Education Press, 2016).
By Jeffrey J. Selingo October 23, 2016
From The Chronicle of Higher Education
Earlier this year, a study by two noted economists, Lawrence F. Katz and Alan B. Krueger, concluded that all employment growth in the United States since 2005 appeared to have come from what they termed alternative work. While apps for temporary work, such as Uber and TaskRabbit, get most of the attention in today’s gig economy, the two found that the “offline” contract work of freelancers is actually growing the fastest, ballooning by 50 percent over the last decade.
The changing nature of work in the 21st century has serious implications for the job-preparation role that colleges play in our economy. Rather than educate students for specific occupations or broad career fields as in the past, institutions now need to groom undergraduates for a more complex, fragmented workplace with many overlapping pathways.
The growth of alternative work along with the growing threat of automation and artificial intelligence replacing even many white-collar jobs in the future requires college graduates to learn how to direct their own learning throughout their careers. They will need to know when, where, and how to upgrade their skills with employers unwilling to invest in professional development for freelancers in an economy where the skills needed to succeed are ever changing.
A new crop of education providers is already helping recent college graduates in this evolving workplace. Services like Lynda.com, which LinkedIn purchased for $1.5 billion in 2015, offer online training videos for a range of in-demand job skills, like graphic design and WordPress. Koru and Fullbridge organize in-person courses lasting several weeks on communication and time management, group projects, and intensive career coaching. And then there are a growing number of boot camps, like General Assembly and Galvanize, that teach short courses on computer coding and business fundamentals, including project management and design thinking.
Nervousness over the economy and questions about the value of a college degree have contributed to growing expectations that colleges must make career services a priority. This special report on innovation examines some of the career-counseling efforts underway — by colleges, start-ups, and collaborations between the two.
But colleges themselves are lagging behind, because campus-career centers still largely operate in the old economy. While some have taken steps to update their services, too often they offer undergraduates little more than job listings, interviewing skills, and résumé-writing services, and mostly set up students to focus on the job search only in their senior year.
“Presidents claim to care about career development, but then I ask them, Who is your career-center director? And they don’t know,” says Andy Chan, vice president for personal and career development at Wake Forest University, and a leader in the field.
It shouldn’t be that way. Prospective students, and their parents worried about their return on investment, want career services as part of their education. So colleges should view career planning not as another service to outsource to start-ups, but as a campus amenity right up there with state-of-the-art academic buildings, recreation centers, and residence halls.
The retooling of career services must start with making such offerings more accessible throughout the undergraduate curriculum, starting on Day 1 of college, and helping students realize the wide range of career choices available to them. Often students heading to college make these choices based on what’s familiar to them from childhood, and pick majors based on their limited experience. Then, when they are seniors and start sifting through openings for full-time jobs, many titles can sound as if they were written in a foreign language.
While doing research for my new book on the transition from college to the work force, I met plenty of college seniors who told me they had never known so many different jobs existed. By then it was, unfortunately, too late for them to switch majors or take courses that would put them on the right career track.
Getting a head start on finding a career is the idea behind the Possibility Project at Denison University, which starts in January. First-year students will work in small teams over a semester exploring who they are and what they want to do professionally. They will also meet with alumni and parents who share stories about similar career paths. At the end of the program, the students plan to develop a short TED-like presentation about one of their passions, which forms the foundation of a career story that one day could prove helpful in a job interview.
Another reason colleges must encourage students to think early on about careers is that the traditional recruiting calendar for employers has been upended in recent years. Internships now play a more important role in recruiting. Some organizations hire up to three-quarters of their intern pools as full-time workers.
Some employers, particularly large ones, have shifted their attention from recruiting seniors to scoping out juniors — even as early as the fall term — to be interns the next summer. “There was a time when 50 employers came to recruit for interns,” Patricia Rose, director of the career center at the University of Pennsylvania told me. “Now we have 180. They want to wrap up talent before anyone else.”
The rising importance of internships means that colleges should be spending just as much time and attention building relationships with employers as they are cultivating donors in their development efforts. But at many colleges, the fund-raising office is showered with talent and money, while career services is tucked away in a forgotten corner of campus.
Here again is where the boot camps and other ventures aimed at getting students jobs have a leg up on colleges. Koru and Fullbridge, for example, have customer-focused operations, marketing themselves essentially as a match-making service and working with specific employers, giving students easy access to recruiters.
Other key reforms colleges should make go beyond the career office. As I interviewed new college graduates for my book, I noticed they had a tough time transferring the underlying competencies they had learned inside and outside the classroom to the jobs they hoped to land. They couldn’t craft a narrative for an interview about how they got to where they were in life, or what led them there, or what skills they had acquired in the process.
Several years ago, Northeastern University noted the same problem with students who had recently completed a well-known feature of its undergraduate curriculum: co-ops, in which they spend entire semesters holding a full-time job while enrolled in college. So the university added a course before the co-op to help students understand how humans learn and encouraged them to reflect and articulate their learning in writing during and after each job assignment.
Now Northeastern is expanding the idea beyond the co-op with a universitywide effort to help students take an inventory of their learning throughout the undergraduate curriculum — before they even arrive on campus — by articulating what they already know from high school.
The ability to transfer knowledge between the classroom and the workplace and back again is what gets new college graduates hired, because it allows them to show in job interviews what they cannot easily display on their résumé or in an application. But college students find that task particularly difficult because they haven’t had to make connections between the disparate capabilities they have acquired.
A typical undergraduate’s life is a series of sliced-up learning experiences — in classrooms, in residence halls, on athletic teams, through research projects, or in study-abroad programs. Colleges should help students integrate what they have learned from each of those experiences. “Our business is to promote learning no matter where it happens, to show it has no boundaries,” says Noah Leavitt, who runs Whitman College’s Student Engagement Center.
The final strategy colleges should follow to rethink their career offerings is to think big. Learning is now a lifelong necessity in a global, information-based economy. But many graduates will struggle throughout their lives to reimagine their careers and then to find the right training at the right time and price.
Colleges can help graduates by creating “plug and play” lifelong-learning platforms that alumni can gain access to throughout their careers. These platforms would not be a simple continuation of the tired and dated services offered by career offices, but would include courses, mentors, and credentials that could jump-start a new career.
Wishing that career paths could be as clear and straightforward for this generation as they were in the past won’t make that happen. It’s time for higher education to focus on the career development of its undergraduates and make the necessary campus investments before outside ventures claim the role of shaping students’ lives after college. While some college leaders will continue to argue that it’s not their job to help students find work, if they don’t take on this responsibility, they’ll be the ones on the market.
Jeffrey J. Selingo, a former editor of The Chronicle, is a professor of practice at Arizona State University and a visiting scholar at Georgia Tech’s Center for 21st Century Universities. He is the author of There Is Life After College: What Parents and Students Should Know About Navigating School to Prepare for the Jobs of Tomorrow (William Morrow/HarperCollins).
Mentoring is a powerful avenue to provide positive personal contacts for our “at-risk” youth. Your influence can build a foundation of basic values and challenge students to take responsibility for their actions. They can start to set goals and understand the importance of staying in school. As students begin to realize that someone cares, school absenteeism decreases and academic performance improves.
By building self worth and demonstrating that someone cares, students will have a better chance of staying in school and playing a productive role in the community. As a successful person, you will be able to share your experiences with a student and open a new world of possibilities to them.
Who Can Be A Mentor?
A mentor is a responsible adult who is willing to share time with a student on a consistent basis. The mentor will show the student that someone cares about them and wants them to stay in school. You will become a friend and a role model to a student who may not otherwise have an adult to guide their actions and choices, which are critical to their future success.
What Does A Mentor Do?
A mentor commits to working with a student at school for a minimum of 1/2 hour a week during the school year. The mentor should maintain a consistent meeting schedule in order to develop and nurture a relationship with the student. During the weekly meetings, the mentor may progress through various discussion topics, help the student set goals, or simply listen. Take Stock in Children is not a tutorial program. We encourage helping the student with some homework, but sometimes the student just needs someone who will listen and provide encouragement.
Where Do I Mentor?
All mentoring is done on the school campus, usually in the library, cafeteria, or other commons area of the school. Mentor-student meetings take place ONLY at school and during elective class periods.
When Can I Mentor?
Mentoring sessions take place during the school year, during school hours on school grounds. A schedule is arranged between you, your student and his or her Take Stock Success Coach as to when would be the best time for you and your student to meet.
How Does A Mentor Know What To Do?
After an initial orientation and training session, you will meet your student at school during a mentor-student gathering. A Take Stock Success Coach will provide guidance and support on site. A mentor handbook provides helpful information and tips to guide you in the mentoring process. Also, the foundation has a web site at www.takestockinchildren.org.
How Does A Mentor Benefit?
There is an opportunity for personal growth, developing new skills, and making new friends of all ages. Additional benefits may include the satisfaction of helping children learn, recognition for contributing to the community, and a higher productivity and creativity at work.
When you have decided to make the commitment to work with a Take Stock student, you can complete a Take Stock in Children mentor application. You will attend a scheduled Take Stock Mentor Training session with Take Stock staff and sign a commitment form with the student and a Take Stock Success Coach as to your meeting time and method of communication. You will then be matched with a student who will benefit from your influence.
Qualities Of Effective Mentors
*Have a genuine concern for young people
*Respect and accept different points of view
*Respect the right of individuals to make their own choices
*Relate well to individuals with different experiences and cultures
* Can empathize with another person’s problems
* Are patient and good listeners
* See solutions as well as obstacles
Take Stock in Children – Monroe County 241 Trumbo Road, Key West, FL 33040 305-293-1546