So what really happened to all that money? You know: the hundreds of billions of dollars awarded to large corporations in the bailouts of the 2008 recession, and the hundreds more earned throughout the 12-year rebound?
As a coterie of massive firms have announced mounting difficulties amid the COVID shutdown, many people have asked pointed questions about their finances. Did these firms save… anything? Where did all those profits disappear to? How could some of the wealthiest corporations in the world be brought to their hands and knees over such a relatively short period of time?
Pause. Hold that thought for three paragraphs.
For higher ed, the COVID crisis is only a dramatic evolution of a structural problem that has been unfolding for more than two decades. For many schools, particularly those in the North East and Midwest, the problem isn’t economic – at least not per se.
Since the 1960s, the birth rate for American households has been on a steady decline. In 1950, the birth rate was at an all-time high – 25.26 per 1,000. Today, that rate has dropped by more than half to an historical low of 11.92.
The time-frame displayed in the data coincides with the most rapid period of expansion ever undergone by higher education. In the last sixty years, more institutions have emerged than at any other time in history, and the total population of college-going Americans has similarly exploded.
Back to the question about private finances. I’m more likely than anyone to point my finger at greed and poor fiduciary stewardship to explain the sudden whiplash expressed by firms that should, by all rights, have prepared for the eventuality of a crash.
But there is another part of me (perhaps the part that has built two businesses) that understands why these firms are “failing.” They aren’t, really – at least not fundamentally. Successful businesses under duress from Corona are failing only relative to the conditions of success that they, their shareholders, and the American and global economy have come to expect.
In most cases, a failing corporation is not in danger of collapsing outright. It is simply squaring up to the fact that growing, or even maintaining its current position, may no longer be possible given the material conditions of the economy, the world. A market can go from bull to bear overnight. When that happens, growth-oriented firms go on their asses, cash-flows collapse, and layoffs ensue.
In a sense, higher ed is grappling with an identical dynamic, only protracted over a much longer period.
Historical conditions of demographic surplus (the baby boom in the 20th century) underwrote the growth of higher education to its current teeming scale. More institutions emerged, those that already existed expanded enrollments. To deal with the growth, new faculty, administrators, and consultants were hired. Revenues grew alongside expenses.
But as the birth rate dipped toward the end of the century, the tides of fortune began to wash out to sea.
(Demographic changes were only one of the factors that influenced the current position of higher ed. I’ll be talking about others in upcoming posts.)
Like most sectors of the economy, higher education has actively negotiated the slow collapse of demographic & economic supports for decades. By the time the 2008 recession hit, the industry had developed a toolbox of compensatory adjustments to rival those in the corporate world. These included increasing reliance on non-tenure academic labor, optimized resource allocations (STEM, anyone?), and across-the-board budget cuts.
These tools were mercilessly applied to cut the “bloat” that had accumulated in higher ed across many years of growth and prosperity. Yesterday’s success had collapsed into a full-blown labor crisis. The prophecy was complete.
On the student side of the equation, schools started to raise tuition costs out of pace with inflation. With an ever-shrinking pool of students to draw from, it became critical for schools to extract as much revenue as possible from those who remained.
* * *
Since 2008 (and before, really), schools across the country have been on an accelerated track of downsizing, outsourcing, and specializing. Previously, a high tide of tuition-paying bodies produced revenues that allowed schools to maintain solvency without focusing on certifications, specialized programs, or on STEM at the expense of all other disciplines.
But today, nearly all schools are having to make a hard choice – between maintaining (and, moreover, funding) their foundational pedagogical and mission commitments and pivoting to accommodate educational consumers who demand “more employable” forms of skill training.
The most elite schools in the country, sustained by a growing roster of dreamy-eyed student-applicants, may likely never have to choose. For everyone else, however, the culling is nigh.
When the culling begins in earnest, it will likely drive from east to west. It is an unfortunate fact that the regions facing the greatest demographic cliffs are also those with the highest concentration of higher ed institutions. High school graduates in Michigan are down 16% from peak, with an estimated 15% reduction still to come. Connecticut: 11% down with 18% more loss expected. Vermont: 27% down “since a pre-recession peak with a forecasted decline of 8%.”
For students, there are a few reasons why it may be important to understand the factors behind the vulnerability of higher ed.
For one, coming to grips with the demographic forces that prop up (or not) the market is necessary to making a minimally-informed decision about what it means to enter into school at this admittedly unstable time in history.
There is also a potential strategic insight for those who are determined to matriculate. Understanding the detailed trends unfolding on a regional level (what kind of students are in short supply) may provide students with a framework for leveraging their own value as a potential source of revenue for a school. That may seem crude, but these kind of calculations are top of mind for schools seeking to maximize their own market value and remain competitive.
You know that admissions cliche about “asking why the institution deserves to have you as a student”? Well, presumptuous though it may be, it’s not a bad piece of advice.
In the dirty market of higher education (because, yes, it is a market), the single most valuable resource is you: an educational consumer – a precious, precious tuition-paying body. As someone who spends about two hours a day talking to presidential cabinets at schools all around the country, take my word on this.
Is this reality good for the project of education in America? No, almost certainly not. Does it create real leverage for students? Time will tell.