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Michael Patrick Rutter and I got to know each other somehow back in the hazy days of MOOC mania. Come to think of it, I owe much of my higher ed innovation network to the promises and disappointments of massive open online courses. You probably know Michael through his extensive and excellent writing in Inside Higher Ed, or through his role as a senior adviser for communications in the Office of the Vice Chancellor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. When I saw on LinkedIn that Michael had added a new role to his portfolio as a student in Boston University’s online M.B.A. program at Questrom, I knew it was time to ask some questions.
Q: Michael, let’s start with the M.B.A. Why, at this point in your long leadership career in higher education, have you decided to take on the role of student again? And why did you decide on the Questrom M.B.A.?
A: I try to live up to the ideal of being a lifelong learner, and, in fact, I am typically engaged in some kind of academic course or program, the most recent one being the micromaster’s public policy credential from the Harvard Kennedy School. (It didn’t hurt that I knew the folks who developed the program, so I was confident it would be fantastic, hands-on and pedagogically sound—and, well, it was.) More informally, I’ve pursued open and certificate courses in data analytics, digital marketing and generative AI, along with MIT-sponsored leadership training programs like Search Inside Yourself, a mindful approach to working that began at Google. Thinking back a few decades, I took advantage of Harvard’s Extension School (taking over a dozen classes in campus classrooms at night), but alas, I never completed an intended master’s in history of science but finished a pre-M.B.A. sequence. When I decided to pivot my career from academic publishing to communications in the late 1990s, I dove into a program from Northeastern on technical writing that was a proto online, dare I say, early MOOC before they were a thing.
It sounds like I’m flexing or showing off, but I just really like to learn. That said, I pick carefully and am under no illusion that whatever the format, deep learning takes time, attention and dedication—and, ideally, a cohort of others to help keep me motivated. I also credit being a liberal arts grad, a proud alum from Kenyon College, and having a strong foundation in writing and analytics and knowing my way around a curriculum, as essential. I’m a bit contrarian in that while I love innovative, “anywhere” learning, I think many new delivery methods work best for learners who have some traditional classroom chops, from writing essays to doing labs to even blue book exams.
Moreover, because I work in higher ed and was involved in standing up next-generation online programs in that heady “year of the MOOC” era, I have this amazing opportunity to both take a class and analyze its delivery, approach, pedagogy and more. The pandemic provided yet another moment to learn about learning, as I was part of a large team at MIT that had to figure out new ways to teach, do experiments and create an MIT-worth experience remotely and then hybrid, all in short order under enormous constraints and stress.
As for the original question (ha) … I’ve known about the Questrom program even before it debuted and always had my eye on it. I said (to anyone who would listen) that any positive disruption would likely take place in the professional education space, given the potential opportunity and audience and the need to contain prices. An MIT colleague of mine was part of the first cohort (and she loved the program).
A former Harvard colleague and friend, Rebecca Petersen (now at Tufts), who is also in the fall 2024 cohort, and I have long admired what BU has done: leveraging their brand, being bold about eschewing the on-campus–versus–online question by making the degrees equivalent (but acknowledging the differences), embracing technology but not skimping on human-centered support (from admissions and onboarding to academic success), and pricing it right (as $25,000 isn’t cheap but just feels right).
Why an M.B.A. in particular? I love the case method. I am fascinated by our odd/varied economy (from social influencer as a legit job to gig work to the future of AI to companies having to face, if not solve, the climate crisis). Plus, I want to get outside my comfort zone and dig into the quantitative realm—and yes, I’ve been doing a lot of online prep (M.B.A. math, stats and more) this summer. No surprise, managing work, a family and everyday life necessitates a flexible degree.
Q: You’ve written and spoken extensively about the need for higher education, as an industry, to accelerate its rate of change. When you look around at the university ecosystem today, what most worries you and what gives you the most hope?
A: First and foremost, I want to dispel a myth that higher ed has not or does not change or doesn’t see change coming. The irony is that the very seeds of disruption or competition are often started on campus, from the ARPANET to AI to social media to open access/open learning … to entirely new fields, from cognitive science back in the ’80s to machine learning in the 1990s and 2000s to the digital humanities to the genomics revolution.
Beyond research, pedagogy has changed dramatically. There may be the classic image of the sage on the stage, but digital classrooms are common, as are experiential learning, integrated internships and, of course, global experiences—I’m thinking of MIT’s own D-Lab that puts students, with scaffolding and expertise, on the ground to tackle the real problems of world poverty. Likewise, consider how some small liberal arts colleges have become career-minded or integrated their local community and economy, from farming to manufacturing, into the classroom. Of course, the pandemic was a case study in what was possible in terms of rapid change.
The recent political attacks on higher ed revealed that some have a very narrow view of these institutions and/or have not stepped foot on an actual campus in decades. While it is healthy to question the value proposition of a degree, I have found questioning the value of learning writ large, especially the liberal arts, as chilling. As higher ed is not a coherent market or business, for lack of a better term, I worry that mounting a counternarrative could prove elusive and come too late.
I’m not an expert on this issue, but rather an eager amateur, so for a robust analysis of change in higher ed, I’d recommend my co-blogger Steve Mintz’s recent book, The Learning-Centered University and “Whatever It Is, I’m Against It”: Resistance to Change in Higher Education (Harvard Education Press) by Brian Rosenberg.
As for what gives me the most hope … it’s the learners. I’m privileged to work at a place like MIT, as our students are tremendous. I was at a lunch for distinguished fellowship winners and chatted with a senior physics major (off to Stanford) who wanted to harness generative AI to address fundamental knowledge gaps in quantum physics and didn’t have much interest in industry and is planning to do research/teach, as he just loves the work. Another student was going to use her Fulbright to explore ecological preservation in Sicily. And while we may groan at any graduate going into big tech/consulting, their ability to influence global corporations (to tackle climate change, to wrestle with the ethics of AI or ensure algorithms do not perpetuate racism and stereotypes) should not be understated, especially if they become leaders and influencers, as many will.
Closer to home, when I take classes, I am inevitably among fantastic students from all around the world. In my HKS program, I met an economist from China who worked in civil service, several Canadian government officials and even a Colorado police chief. In short, as long as people love to learn and learn together, universities will have a critical role.
Q: Nowadays, the only conversations about the future of higher education that I want to have are about universities and climate change. Most of my colleagues seem to want to talk about AI. Who is right, them or me?
A: I think you are right. Climate is existential; AI is instrumental. While AI already is and will continue to change many aspects of how we live and learn and work, the pressures of commercialization are already shaping and narrowing its use (think artificial influencers and more targeted ads.) As MIT’s David Autor has argued, when it comes to how/what AI will disrupt, we have lots of choices: “The direction of technology is something we choose, and the institutions that shape how these forces play out (e.g., minimum wage laws, regulations, collective bargaining, public investments, social norms) are also endogenous.” The same goes for how higher ed will decide to use (or not use) AI to bolster learning, with the caveat that students are going to do what they are going to do, as we’ve seen with, say, social media, so institutions are going to have to be aware and ready to adapt.
Climate change you can actually see and feel. It’s happening in real time. As I write this, Boston is facing a record-breaking heat wave. Higher ed is often seen as a test bed for wrestling with social and economic issues (e.g., inclusion, equity, open access). It’s no different when it comes to sustainability, as many campuses have gone all in on being carbon neutral. As some are akin to small cities (with residents, commercial districts, employees and transit), they could become models for green living. In some cases, if campuses do not take major infrastructure actions, they could literally be underwater in a decade or so.
Climate change can be so overwhelming, so impossible to wrap your head around that, as I see in my own kids, a sense of despair as just recycling more or taking the bus instead of driving seems too little. Students today arrive on campus wanting to create a better world and tackle climate change, so universities should do all they can to empower them, as they can shape the future in ways we cannot even imagine.
Sure, research efforts to combat climate change will be crucial, even the far-flung ones like geo-engineering, but I think there are opportunities at a very personal scale to demonstrate what a different way forward could look like or for social and cognitive sciences to figure out how to inspire collective action.
