Friday Fragments

Kevin McClure and Barrett Taylor have a thought-provoking piece in The Chronicle this week about the responsibilities of institutional leaders to their employees when institutions are under budgetary and/or political attack.

It’s worth the read, although I think it suffers a bit from failure to confront the counterfactual. When contemplating standing up to a Legislature and/or governor who seems to be on an ideological rampage, one of the first questions to ask is “then what?” A single president may well conclude that defiance would be a suicide mission, both individually and institutionally; if that conclusion is correct, then silence may be the least bad available option. Admittedly, “least bad” isn’t great, but in some settings it may be the best they can do.

That caveat aside, though, McClure and Taylor make some terrific points about acknowledging the extra work that has fallen to the folks left behind when others have been laid off or left unreplaced when they departed. Sometimes just feeling seen makes a difference.

I don’t know the official academic name for it, but there’s a noted phenomenon in which bad news gets progressively more sanitized as it makes its way up the chain of authority. That can lead to decisions that seem insensitive or callous because the decision-makers have received such filtered information that their perceptions are skewed. I remember that happening at a previous college when enrollments were booming and the folks in a particular program were sending mixed signals about a particular room’s ability to hold more students. After hearing the third version of “it’s kinda sorta full, but not really, but we really shouldn’t, unless …” I went there myself to see. It was far worse than they had let on. At that point, the entire discussion shifted.

Knowing that sharp edges can get sanded down as information moves up the chain, it can be helpful sometimes to get a more direct perspective. That can mean something as literally pedestrian as walking different routes around campus at different times, just to see what’s happening. It definitely means praising folks directly when you see them going above and beyond, even if it’s in an unspectacular way.

Good manners don’t substitute for adequate funding, of course, but they send a message anyway. They show respect. That’s worth some extra effort.

This week a couple of pieces came out that are better read together than separately.

The first, by Terry Hartle, addresses the legality and dangers of Florida’s attempt to “fire the accreditors.” It’s a thoughtful piece, though Hartle places a bit more faith in the power of standing law than I do. (As a professor of mine liked to say, laws are interpreted by judges.) Still, it’s a helpful reminder of the centrality of accreditation, with all of its imperfections, in our current system.

The second is by Tim Burke, reflecting on the widespread myth that innovation only happens in law-free zones. The catalyst for the piece is the recent submersible disaster, but the historical lesson is clear: innovation occurs within enabling frameworks established by law. Basic research, the internet, the interstate highway system, a reasonably reliable food-safety system—none of these would have happened without government.

Reading them next to each other, I realized what’s so frustrating about Florida’s attack on accreditation: it hasn’t offered a better alternative. It’s assuming that if you just let the market (or the state) do what it wants, everything will work out.

Of course, if Florida really wants to go its own way, it can; it would simply have to forfeit any claim on federal financial aid. I don’t see that happening. Instead, it’s offering “give us money and don’t ask any questions,” which does not inspire confidence. The well-documented abuses in the for-profit sector of higher education should have settled that question.

If they want to get rid of the current “accreditation cartel,” as they like to call it, step one would be to develop a better alternative. Build a prototype and see how it stands up to pressure. If it’s actually better, it will gain support. We’ve already seen what happens when Title IV money is available without meaningful oversight; the argument that the states alone can handle it is simply not credible. Yes, most of us in the industry have had our frustrations with the current system, but the solution isn’t to give up on rules altogether. Build a better mousetrap, and credibility will follow. Nihilism is not a serious alternative.

The Girl waits tables at a local restaurant to make money over the summer. It’s a nice place, and she’s usually okay with it.

Last week was graduation at the local high school, and she worked that evening. The place was packed. She reported that one table worked her hard, racked up a $190 tab and then didn’t tip. At all.

She was hurt and visibly upset.

So, in the spirit of TG, a public service announcement: tipping may not be your first choice of how people should be paid, but the way to handle that is not to stiff your server. Tip decently. It’s a small gesture of respect. I’d personally rather see livable wages, but stiffing a server isn’t going to get us there. It just comes off as cruel.

Thanks in advance.