Addressing the rising prevalence of mental health issues, particularly among young people

Mental Health

Examining innovations that help young people thrive

Teaching &amp; Learning

An end goal for learning and life

Flourishing

On Wednesday morning, Scott Delaney woke up to an email from an address he didn’t recognize. In a hasty 6 a.m. message, the writer explained to have been hearing from contacts at community-based organizations running substance use disorder and harm reduction programs that “their grants were all cancelled.” The stranger wondered: Had Delaney, who leads&nbsp;<a href="https://grant-witness.us/">Grant Witness</a>, an online database tracking federal grant terminations, heard the same?



In fact Delaney hadn’t — yet. By 10 a.m.,&nbsp;<a href="https://www.npr.org/2026/01/14/nx-s1-5677104/trump-administration-letter-terminating-addiction-mental-health-grants">NPR</a>&nbsp;broke the story that, the previous night, the Trump administration had notified hundreds that their funding from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) had been terminated, apparently due to misalignment with “agency priorities.” Upwards of 2,100 grants were cancelled, worth a total around $2 billion. Delaney’s Signal threads blew up. Emails and&nbsp;<a href="https://grant-witness.us/submit-samhsa.html">web form</a>&nbsp;submissions reporting specific grant terminations and requesting information flowed in. The Grant Witness team spent the day building a new system to track SAMHSA grants. Come evening, Delaney had put his kids to bed and was settling back down at the computer when he learned the Trump administration had reversed its decision: The cancelled grants are now restored.



In that moment, following the news of reinstatement, silence fell upon the Grant Witness Slack chat. Delaney described a sense of relief, perhaps second only to disbelief: a stomach-clench of mixed emotions no doubt reflecting the experience of mental health professionals across the country. They had spent hours mobilizing, scrambling for answers, only to end up with a new set of questions, among them: Is it over?



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This latest instance of federal policy whiplash plays into a larger pattern that makes it difficult for some to completely shake off concerns. 
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Certain developments on this front have been reassuring. That lawmakers from across the political aisle activated to restore the funding indicates vast support for these programs, which widely focus on suicide prevention and substance use treatment, including for young people. The letter SAMHSA sent rescinding the terminations also seems to promise a quick return to regular programming. “Your award will remain active under its original terms and conditions,” a copy of the email obtained by LearningWell states. “Please disregard the prior termination notice and continue program activities as outlined in your award agreement.”&nbsp;



But this latest instance of federal policy whiplash plays into a larger pattern that makes it difficult for some to completely shake off concerns. This fall, LearningWell <a href="https://learningwellmag.org/article/uncertainty-weighs-on-mental-health-researchers">covered</a> the ongoing uncertainty that has weighed on mental health researchers over the fate of federally funded projects. Throughout 2025, mass grant freezes and terminations by the National Institutes of Health, for example, disrupted scientific research across a range of disciplines. In the case of mental health, the particularly unfunny irony is of course that the stress of these cuts has been damaging to the mental health — and careers and livelihoods — of the researchers themselves. 



“It’s really hard to know and trust, frankly, the information and know how it's going to play out,” said Sara Abelson, the senior director of training and education at The Hope Center for Student Basic Needs at Temple University. At the junction of mental health and higher education, the ground beneath her has felt shaky for a while now. Amid this week’s cuts, Abelson paid special attention to one grant impacted that provides funds to colleges and universities: the Garrett Lee Smith Campus Suicide Prevention program. According to&nbsp;<a href="https://hope.temple.edu/assessing-insufficiency-federal-investments-college-student-basic-needs">research</a>&nbsp;Abelson has been conducting on federal grants for student basic needs, between 2016 and 2024, G.L.S. touched nearly 250 campuses in 45 states and Puerto Rico. These are the kind of wide-reaching “lifesaving supports” she said have been threatened. Will next time be for real?&nbsp;



Delaney also isn’t quite ready to unwind. Well-versed in the grant cancellation and restoration process, he worries about how long it will take this round. On Wednesday, some grantees shared with him documents, called Notices of Award, they received reestablishing their funding to zero. These NOAs are legal contracts, with the terms offset, in Delaney’s experience, only when a new one is issued. So, he wonders, are the grantees technically owed their original funds at this point? Will some end up pausing their work out of caution? SAMHSA did not respond immediately to a request for comment as to whether revised NOAs will be sent or the expected timeline.



Others worry, because the potential reasons for the original cancellations remain, future cuts may still be coming. Kathleen Ethier, the former director of the division of adolescent and school health at the Centers for Disease Control, believes U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s&nbsp;<a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2025/09/10/linda-mcmahon-rfk-jr-mental-health-students/">expressed views</a>&nbsp;on the over-discussion and over-pathologization of youth mental health issues don’t bode well for the future of related initiatives. “I do think that there is an ideological reason why these grants were targeted,” she said, “and I do think we have to remain vigilant about the ways in which this administration is going to support young people's mental health in schools.”&nbsp;



The continuous federal funding upheaval may have had at least one positive outcome for mental health advocates, though. Now they know how to respond. While Delaney said the initial rush following this week’s terminations — to organize his team and collect new information and field inquiries all at once — felt akin to Whac-A-Mol, previous experience helped him maintain a sense of control. “I think because we've done this before, honestly, I felt ready to tackle this,” he said. “We knew what to do, we knew who to contact, and we were going to be able to put together a database that was going to be really helpful, and we were going to be able to do it really well, really fast.”



“It's really, really energizing to see the vast numbers of folks pull together, the communities activate and mobilize, and you can draw a lot of strength from that,” Delaney said.



You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at&nbsp;<a href="mailto:mames@learningwellmag.org">mames@learningwellmag.org</a>&nbsp;with comments, ideas, or tips.

SAMHSA Grant Reversal Fuels Additional Anxiety in the Field   

Xochitl Casillas’ students were moping again. As the dean of Chicano Latino student affairs at the Claremont Colleges, she had come to expect this phenomenon: When February rolled around, and Valentine’s Day became imminent, those without partners seemed to feel their singledom more keenly than ever. She called them, affectionately, the “lonely hearts club.” She also wanted to help.



Starting last year, Casillas organized an event on Valentine’s Day-eve for students who didn’t want to be alone to come together. The main activity was an art workshop, called Campus Colors and Connection, which asks students to consider the feelings different colors provoke and then create abstract drawings to represent those feelings or related experiences. By sharing their work and thinking with each other, they could learn more about their peers, as well as themselves.



“This is the time where a lot of people who want partnership may not have it,” Casillas remembered telling the group. “But today, this is an opportunity to connect.”



The workshop Casillas led her students through was developed by&nbsp;<a href="https://www.artandhealing.org/">The Foundation for Art and Healing</a>, a nonprofit that promotes the arts as an intervention for loneliness. Jeremy Nobel, M.D., Ph.D., a physician and lecturer at Harvard Medical School, started the foundation to explore the impact of the arts on health generally but pivoted towards developing arts-based resources for loneliness about a decade ago. At that point, loneliness was emerging as a predominant mental health concern, and research had begun to suggest what Nobel already suspected: The arts could help.



Today, with loneliness widely considered a national crisis and young adults particularly affected, Nobel continues to believe in art as an antidote. Lately, he and his team have made a special push to bring their work to colleges and universities. Educators, like Casillas, all too familiar with their students’ struggles, have become eager partners. Even those who might question handing crayons to twenty-somethings are considering: Can they afford not to try?



“I think loneliness is where depression was 20 years ago,” Nobel said, “where people didn’t even want to say it out loud.” In other words, Americans may have come around to the idea that depression is a medical condition, rather than a personal defect, but they don’t necessarily treat loneliness with the same open mind. Nobel, whose background is in internal medicine, likes to say loneliness is just a biological signal that a person needs to connect, like feeling thirsty is a signal to drink water. He urges others to adopt this same understanding, or risk the consequences.&nbsp;



<a href="https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3874845/">Evidence</a>&nbsp;shows that, physically, loneliness can make people vulnerable to inflammation, higher blood pressure, and a weaker immune system. Mentally, they may act less rationally and more impulsively; they may begin to see the world as threatening. And the lonelier they stay, the more threatening the world seems and the more difficult it becomes to develop connections in the future. Nobel calls this “spiraling.”&nbsp;



Young people report to be the loneliest of any age group, despite seeming so well-connected online. Even considering the end of the pandemic and return to in-person learning, Gen Z continues to indicate widespread loneliness; in 2024, up to&nbsp;<a href="https://www.gwi.com/blog/gen-z-loneliness">eight in 10</a>&nbsp;were saying they had been lonely in the last year. As for why, a slew of familiar explanations abounds, like the impact of social media, drawing youth away from “real” human interaction.&nbsp;



Art and Healing



For Nobel, the connection between loneliness and the arts wasn’t immediately apparent. At first, his interest in the health impacts of creative expression was focused on how it might help treat acute trauma. He had personally sensed the benefits after using poetry to make sense of his feelings about the Sept. 11 attacks. A psychologist overseeing a similar brand of work in a more formal setting confirmed patients were finding relief, specifically across race and class backgrounds.&nbsp;



“The arts seemed to be helpful across all these wide horizons,” Nobel said, “which meant something was going on that really rewired your brain in some important ways.”&nbsp;



In 2003, Nobel launched The Foundation for Art and Healing, eager to explore the effects himself. He kept the focus on trauma-affected groups — first those with military backgrounds, then those dealing with sexual, domestic, meteorologic, and other forms of trauma. As the scope expanded, Nobel heard a common refrain: The programs “made them less lonely and more connected.”&nbsp;



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Brain imaging now shows how areas associated with social connection light up while subjects engage with art. 
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Science was catching up, too.&nbsp;<a href="https://www.frontiersin.org/journals/neuroscience/articles/10.3389/fnins.2022.738865/full">Brain imaging</a>&nbsp;now shows how areas associated with social connection light up while subjects engage with art. Other findings suggest it can reduce hormones associated with&nbsp;<a href="https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5004743/">stress</a>&nbsp;and increase&nbsp;<a href="https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7075503/">“feel-good” ones</a>, like dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin.&nbsp;



As evidence mounted, the foundation turned its attention fully to art’s possible sway over loneliness. In its current form, the organization aims to raise awareness and reduce stigma around loneliness, as well as disseminate research-based programs that help people connect. Offerings include original films, online exercises, and in-person workshops,&nbsp;all&nbsp;within the organization's signature initiative,&nbsp;<a href="https://www.artandhealing.org/project-unlonely/">Project UnLonely</a>.



Core to all this work, and meant to maximize its impact, is the foundation’s public health approach. The Foundation for Art and Healing team partners with other businesses and organizations to implement its services, rather than delivering them directly. It also prioritizes simple and low-cost interventions that don’t require prior medical or professional training to implement. “The key is to do things that meet three criteria: effectiveness, scalability, and sustainability,” Nobel said.&nbsp;&nbsp;



While the foundation also targets the general public, the elderly, and workers in high-stress environments, Gen Z has become a particular focus. Community-based organizations like museums and libraries can be good partners for reaching the 18 to 28-year-old demo. But, Nobel said, “by far the most direct way is through colleges and universities.”&nbsp;



So far, the foundation has reached more than 50 campuses and 6,000 students. The institutions range from Harvard’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health to large public research universities in the south and small community colleges on the west coast. The activities appeal to a range of campus community members, including those in student affairs, residential life, spiritual life, athletics, and even campus museums.&nbsp;



At the Claremont Colleges, students used the Campus Colors and Connection exercise to explore their common cultural identity. When Casillas asked them to represent, through different colors and shapes, what brings them joy, for example, she said her Latino students depicted cooking with a grandparent in the Dominican Republic, swinging in a hammock in Puerto Rico, and speaking Spanish. She watched them become eager to tell their stories and encourage new friends to do the same.&nbsp;



“People are like, ‘Oh, it feels like we're back in elementary school. We're just coloring,’” Casillas said. “But I think they didn't realize how vulnerable they were going to get.” After the 45-minute Valentine’s Day session ended, students lingered to continue the conversation.



The simplicity, perhaps child-like nature,&nbsp;of the exercise might push some away. But Nobel said the playfulness is the point. It’s also part of the draw as a less intimidating, or clinical, form of self-care. “We never frame it as therapy,” he said of the workshops. “We often don't even use the word loneliness in our promotion of it.” Instead, the directive is simple: “Create and connect.”



Expanding Connections



The University of New England was an early adopter of Campus Colors and Connection, starting about four years ago. Coming out of the pandemic, Dean of Students Jennifer DeBurro said she and her team decided to take a “10,000-foot view” of the student wellbeing issue: “We were asking ourselves questions about on-ramps: What are some of the additional ways that we could provide opportunities for students to connect with peers in a low-risk, easy way?” That’s when they were introduced to Nobel’s work.&nbsp;



First a one-off program, Campus Colors and Connection is now part of U.N.E.’s orientation program. “They can just talk — talk about what's making them nervous about going off to school, talk about what's exciting, reflect on a memory,” DeBurro said of incoming students.



When it comes to evaluating the workshop, the primary mechanism is the survey students fill out after participating. Questions prompt them to reflect generally on the experience, and so far, the results are positive. The vast majority have reported they would recommend the workshop to others (96 percent), as well as feeling more in touch with their emotions (84 percent) and more connected to their peers (84 percent). 79 percent of those who indicated feeling lonely beforehand said they felt less lonely afterwards.&nbsp;



Yet Nobel recognizes the survey work isn’t as robust as it could be. He hopes to expand assessment to consider the potential impact on student success, including academic performance and retention. “Does being more connected increase learning? All the evidence says it should,” he said.&nbsp;



As the foundation aims to strengthen assessment efforts, Claremont and U.N.E. continue to extend their partnerships with the foundation. Casillas has now led Campus Colors and Connection not only for her Latino students broadly but with a group of student mentors, who learned to run a version of the session themselves. She also brought the workshop to fellow staff.&nbsp;



U.N.E. recently began offering a tailored version of the Campus Colors and Connection for first-gen students. “We continue to talk about it in as many different corners of the university as we can,” DeBurro said, “so that any opportunity we have to bring it to a new population, we do.”



You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at <a href="mailto:mames@learningwellmag.org">mames@learningwellmag.org</a> with comments, ideas, or tips.

Colors and Connections

When Eric Wood talks about the future of college mental health, he does so from the front lines. The longtime director of Texas Christian University’s Counseling and Mental Health Center and past president of the Texas University and College Counseling Directors Association has just been elected the next president of the Association for University and College Counseling Center Directors (A.U.C.C.C.D.). His tenure will begin in October 2026.&nbsp;



Known for his innovative Comprehensive Collaborative Care Model and award-winning e-book, “A New Narrative for College Mental Health,” Wood is stepping in to lead the nation’s largest organization for campus counseling leaders at a moment when the field, like all of higher ed, is confronting change. We caught up with him fresh off hosting a national symposium on performing artists and athletes and took the opportunity to ask him about A.U.C.C.C.D.’s plans and priorities.



LW: Congratulations on your election as president-elect of A.U.C.C.C.D. What do you see as the major challenges for the organization in the coming year?



EW:&nbsp;We as counseling centers have done a really good job capturing the narrative of how important college mental health is. College mental health has a lot more significance than people realize. If you think about the demographic we serve, the traditional 18- to 25-year-olds, that’s a prime demographic for pretty much anything — substance use, suicide, emerging disorders. It’s also the best time to treat them because if you can treat them then, they may have fewer episodes later, or none at all. Whereas if they wait 10 or 15 years, it's a lot more ingrained and harder to treat.&nbsp;



Colleges and universities have greater access to that demographic than any other health-care system. They live, walk by, and travel by our campuses every day. So the question is: What opportunities does that create if government and other organizations really recognize this?



LW: You’ve become known for T.C.U.’s innovative model of collaborative care. Can you explain what that is and how it ties into your national leadership goals?



EW:&nbsp;We call it the Comprehensive Collaborative Care Model, and it’s reshaping how universities think about their role in mental health. We started it during the pandemic. The mindset had always been that college counseling centers were designed for developmental concerns — the stress that comes from change — not necessarily for students with high mental health needs. But those dynamics have shifted. Now we have students with much higher needs, and our systems weren’t designed for that.



So instead of building hospital-style treatment centers, we built bridges. We partner with community providers who were&nbsp;designed&nbsp;to work with individuals with high needs but who lack the infrastructure and access we have. They come onto our campus, use their programs, and our students stay in school, on our campus, in programs with other college students. It’s a win-win-win: The student’s insurance covers most costs so there’s just the co-pay, and we’ve gotten grants and donors so the treatment centers have the chance for little or no overhead. We’ve trained over 100 schools to replicate various parts of the model.&nbsp;



LW: You mentioned that politics and policy changes are affecting mental health care on campuses. What are you seeing?



EW:&nbsp;If you're in a university that's depending on federal funding, there’s a new level of raised exposure. There’s a perception that if a state or federal funding source doesn’t like something at your institution, they’re going to cut your funding off. People don't realize that even if it had nothing to do with college counseling centers, it is going to trickle down if schools have that cut in funding. When universities face federal or state funding cuts, that trickles down to us. A 20 percent budget cut across campus means a 20 percent cut for the counseling center, too. And yet the demand for services has never been higher.



A lot of the culture-war legislation, like D.E.I. bans, has had unintended consequences. Some states have medical exemptions for those laws, but others don’t. We’ve seen schools cut services that were never meant to be targeted, like gender specific groups with mental health and addiction issues. This is an age group much more likely to seek help on campus than they would after graduation, so when you remove those options, you lose opportunities to intervene early.



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“When policymakers pass laws or set funding priorities, I hope they think carefully about how that affects college mental health.”
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We’re trying to make lawmakers aware that mental health has&nbsp;never&nbsp;been a partisan issue. Surveys show eight out of ten Americans believe schools are responsible for providing health care to students. The narrative we’re pushing is: “Look at the possibilities higher education offers society. Why would you want to limit that potential?”



LW: What other issues are most pressing for college counseling centers right now?



EW:&nbsp;We’re still seeing the ripple effects of the pandemic. And we do know that in this age group one of the things that spiked is their likelihood to transfer. The students entering college now were in middle school during the shutdowns — the classes of 2028 through 2030. That’s a critical cohort with a lot of struggles. They missed key developmental years, and those formative years had a lot of disruption going from middle school to high school, and we see that in their social and academic adjustment carrying over to higher education.&nbsp;



And as digital natives engaged in all the social platforms, they’re used to absorbing all the culture and content and polarizations in society. That’s their reference point, and a lot of them may not know what it’s like to&nbsp;not&nbsp;have that level of polarization. So they’re bringing that to campus. When they see politicians saying certain words or treating each other some way, you're going to see that carry over to how they treat faculty. They see that people just break rules; you see that happening in politics and society, and that carries over into the res halls because that's the frame of reference.&nbsp;



We’re also seeing a higher level of parental involvement. Their parents spent more time with them during lockdowns, engaged in a closer front-row seat to their education, so now we’re seeing that continue — sometimes helicopter-level involvement — in college life.&nbsp;



LW: What’s on your personal wish list as incoming president?



EW: To keep building that narrative and have a stronger voice nationally. We’ve had some success getting attention from politicians and national outlets, but there’s so much more to do. When policymakers pass laws or set funding priorities, I hope they think carefully about how that affects college mental health.



And college is where the developmental concerns play out because this is the prime age. The reason why colleges created counseling centers wasn't because we thought every student had a clinical diagnosis. Most students do not. The centers exist because we define stress as heightened in times of major change, and a major one is when you start college. You only have about four or five of those moments in your life when everything can change. So starting college is one of them — you change where you eat, where you live, your identity, everything — and then graduating college is a second one. So you have so much change bookmarking the college experience. And then you do have associated stressors, like navigating the social environment, and we know that demographic tends to engage in high-risk behavior, so a lot of prevention work is important. That is why college counseling centers exist, and I contend colleges and universities are the best in the world at doing that. But because there's currently a lot more students with high mental health needs coming to campus, the disconnect occurs that we aren’t good at what we're doing. That couldn’t be further from the truth.



The mental health of young people is&nbsp;always&nbsp;going to be a popular, bipartisan cause. We just need to remind people of that and continue the collaboration.



LW: How do you see that collaboration playing out at the national level?



EW:&nbsp;Collaboration is essential. Some states have strong organizations, like Texas, but not all do. One of my goals is to help develop those networks. State laws affect us differently, so we need local collaboration as well as national unity. There’s strength in numbers, whether it’s state collectives, regional conferences, or collaborations across university systems, like the athletic conferences.



It’s also about mutual support. A lot of what’s in the headlines about higher education doesn’t directly involve counseling directors, but it still affects us through funding cuts, political pressures, or staffing shortages. Directors need to come together because having a collaborative amplifies our method, our messages. We need each other to stay resilient.



LW: You just hosted a symposium on athletes and performing arts. What can you tell us about the thinking behind spotlighting those populations?



EW:&nbsp;It really came out of conversations we were having on our campus about performing artists and athletes — two groups that represent the university in powerful ways but have very different kinds of support systems. Varsity athletes get a lot of institutional support, but there are just as many performers and non-varsity athletes who face similar pressures and injuries without the same safety nets.&nbsp;



For example, if a student athlete gets hurt, the university often covers the care, and they can still progress toward their degree. But if a dancer or musician gets injured, they often can’t progress toward their degree because performance is part of their coursework. That difference really highlights why universities need to think more broadly about how they support these students.&nbsp;



So we decided to organize a symposium to explore that. We reached out to experts from Johns Hopkins, Stanford, Harvard — literally the pioneers of performing arts medicine — and every single one of them said yes. We even had ballerina Tiler Peck as a keynote. It turned into a two-day virtual event that drew about 100 sign-ons per session; many of them were in classrooms watching together. It was the first time we’d done anything like it, and it really underscored how much synergy there is between athletic and performing-arts wellness.



LW: How long have you been at T.C.U., and what do you think your election says about A.U.C.C.C.D. and where it’s headed?



EW:&nbsp;I started at T.C.U. right out of my Ph.D. program in 2007 and became director in 2019, so I had one good semester before the pandemic hit. Everything we’ve built since then has been about adapting to change and meeting students where they are.



I’m honored by the role. I think part of the reason I was elected is because we’ve done a good job at innovation at T.C.U., and I think it shows a shift in the narrative about college mental health. For a long time, the assumption was that we as colleges were limited — that if a student had a serious mental health disorder, they needed to go elsewhere, just like you wouldn’t expect a university to perform surgery. But that’s changing. For example, one of our specialized programs is an intensive outpatient program on campus. I’d love to see every residential campus in America have one. The impact would be generational.



So, I think my election signals that people are starting to recognize the potential and the possibilities of what we can do — and that we can do it at a fraction of the cost, using programs that already exist. And why would you want to do anything to ruin that potential? To have my colleagues across the country say, “We want that kind of innovation leading us forward” — that’s deeply meaningful. It tells me people see the potential of college mental health, and they’re ready to invest in it.

Leading the Next Chapter of College Mental Health

Allie Jutton graduated from high school in 2022 with a pile of Advanced Placement credits and few options to put them to use at the kind of small liberal arts college she wanted to attend. But she knew she could save a lot of time and money if she could find a school that counted her A.P. work toward her degree.



Jutton, who grew up in Lakeville, Minn., landed at the University of Minnesota Morris. It offered the small college feel—just shy of 1,000 undergraduate students—and a well-publicized Degree in Three program, which could save students like her about $20,000 by graduating in three years, instead of four.



Jutton was sold. And now she’s graduating with a degree in psychology and a minor in gender, women, and sexuality studies and plans to attend Minnesota State University, Mankato in the fall for a master’s in mental health counseling.



“I came in with a lot of general education courses already done, like statistics, history, geography, and English,” Jutton said.​​ “It was cost-effective for me and my family, and it allowed me to get my degree a little faster.”&nbsp;



At Morris, the Degree in Three program isn’t a new concept. Students with the drive and desire have always had the option to finish the standard 120 credits to earn a bachelor’s degree in a shortened time frame. However, it wasn’t until 2024 that the college openly advertised that all of its 32 majors could be completed in three years, if students chose to do so.



Morris is one of almost 50 institutions that have joined the College-in-3 Exchange, a nonprofit organization advocating for more undergraduate degree options that take less time to complete. The collective includes a diversity of institutions, from Georgetown University and the University of Miami, to Merrimack College and Portland State. When the incubator started in 2021, a dozen institutions signed on—and the group has grown each year.



“Higher ed needs to be reimagined in all kinds of ways, and this is a very practical way to create a catalyst for rethinking undergraduate education,” Lori Carrell, chancellor of the University of Minnesota Rochester, said. She founded College-in-3 alongside Robert Zemsky, professor at the University of Pennsylvania.



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“Higher ed needs to be reimagined in all kinds of ways, and this is a very practical way to create a catalyst for rethinking undergraduate education."
</blockquote>



Nationwide, about 64 percent of students who start a degree program finish it within six years, with an average loan debt among borrowers of $29,300, according to the College Board. In 2023, Carrell testified to the U.S. House Subcommittee on Higher Education and Workforce Development about how the College-in-3 concept could improve student retention, degree completion, and career launch, either by developing accelerated 120-credit degrees or creating new curricula that reduce the credit requirement to 90.



“Accreditors have opened their doors to this,” Carrell said.&nbsp;



Not for Everybody



While financial wellbeing is an obvious benefit of earning a degree in three years, the College-in-3 movement continues to head off concerns about less-desirable repercussions for students, like increased stress, feelings of overwhelm, or a rushed college experience.&nbsp;



Jutton shared those concerns, initially. Her fears were eased after mapping out the course work with her advisor, taking into account the credits she brought with her from high school. Still, Jutton worked two jobs while in school, as a resident assistant and also as an assistant in the student engagement and events office. During her second year, she took 20 credits each semester. It was a lot at the time, but Jutton believes the experience also gave her skills that she’ll use forever.



“It taught me valuable life lessons. I’m really good at time management and my organizational skills are better than they were coming into college,” Jutton said. “I was able to recognize when I needed help and ask for it, as well as set boundaries for what I can and cannot do.”



As more institutions are joining the College-in-3 Exchange, they are also considering how to design curricula that take student mental health and wellbeing into account, Carrell said.



“The worry that you’re just going to rush students through and turn degrees into credentials, instead of deep, transformative learning? Nothing could be farther from what we’re doing,” she said.



Janet Schrunk Ericksen, chancellor at Morris, said that since the college started actively promoting the three-year option in February 2024, it’s been well received. The Degree in Three program features prominently on the website, and Ericksen said that it receives more page views than any other part of the site. Visitors also spend more time looking at the information.



“We serve a large percentage of students from historically underrepresented populations—low-income, first-generation students,” Ericksen said. “Giving them this path is important.”



Ericksen acknowledges, however, that completing a 120-credit bachelor’s degree in a condensed timeline isn’t for everybody. It’s easier for those who can use A.P. credit or pursued dual enrollment in high school, earning some college credits before arriving on campus. Most students also take a summer class or two along the way. She believes that certain degrees also lend themselves to quicker completion than others. Physics, for example, requires foundational knowledge before moving on to the next levels, so the major might be more challenging to finish in less than four years.&nbsp;



“It’s not going to work for students who change their major six times or who want a triple major—and we have a fair number of those,” Ericksen said. “But the students who are really focused, they’re saying, ‘Yes, this is what I want, and it’s great to have a clear path.’”



An opportunity for experiential learning&nbsp;



Institutions like Brigham Young University - Idaho, which serves an older population of working adults taking online classes, are finding that eliminating elective courses and reducing degree credits to 90 or 94 are helping students complete programs in majors like business management, applied health, and family and human services. The Northwest Commission on Colleges and Universities, an accrediting body, approved the truncated programs in 2023.



Still, not everybody is sold on the validity of a 90-credit degree. Some higher education experts and faculty members are concerned that it will create a two-tiered system and that employers may not value the degrees equally.&nbsp;



But Madeleine Green, executive director of the College-in-3 Exchange, said the timing for higher education to make such changes is “propitious.”



“For all the questions that are out there about the value of a degree, employability of graduates, the cost of higher education, those are all factors that I think have propelled institutions to think about alternative pathways,” Green said.



Designing three-year degree programs with industry partners is leading to better outcomes, Carrell said. At the University of Minnesota Rochester, for example, students in health-related majors are offered paid internships at the Mayo Clinic, as well as job interviews upon graduation. The partnership has also helped the faculty design a tight curriculum that ensures that students are prepared for the workforce, while building in strategies like block scheduling, success coaches, and capstone experiences that contribute to student wellbeing.



“To know that there are these dire workforce shortages in healthcare deserts and we’re producing people who can go out and serve communities sooner is very, very satisfying,” Carrell said.



Peh Ng, chair of the division of science and mathematics at Morris, said the students she’s helped guide through three-year degrees aren’t missing out on the hallmark experiences of college, like undergraduate research, study abroad, and internships. Still, those who arrive at Morris without having earned any college-level credits have a much more challenging time finishing in less than four years—and often they don’t.



“A three-year program is really not for every student, but if a student tries it and it doesn’t work, then they finish it in four years. So at the end of the day, it bodes well for four-year graduation rates,” she said.&nbsp;



Ng is among the faculty members who don’t agree with reducing credit requirements, especially in STEM fields, where she said the difference between taking 12 courses and seven is “huge.”



“You can’t have two tiers of programs,” Ng said. “I am a strong proponent of not changing the requirements.”



Jutton agrees with Ng—she wouldn’t have wanted to take a lesser load, she said. As she prepares to graduate, she has few regrets. Sure, another year may have afforded her a more robust social life, but she also found friendship and camaraderie among like-minded peers who were also on the fast-track to degree completion. Although Jutton will be younger than many of her graduate school cohort, she still feels prepared to move on.



“I think the biggest thing for me was finding supporters, like my career counselor and the faculty,” Jutton said. “I haven’t met someone who does not believe in me here and that was really important for me to be able to do the degree in three.”

"College-in-3"

Not many academics find mainstream success with the publication of their first book. Anthony "Tony" Jack, Ph.D. did.



In his award-winning debut, “The Privileged Poor: How Elite Colleges Are Failing Disadvantaged” (2019), Jack explores how elite colleges and universities tout mounting diversity but tend to recruit students of color from private and preparatory high schools rather than local, more distressed ones. His second book, “Class Dismissed: When Colleges Ignore Inequality and Students Pay the Price” (2024), tracks the fallout of the pandemic for students with little to no support at home, and how institutions failed to anticipate and respond to their needs.



From&nbsp;assistant professor of education at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, Jack joined the faculty at Boston University in 2023 as an&nbsp;associate professor of higher education leadership.&nbsp;At B.U., he is the inaugural faculty director of the Newbury Center, a resource office for first-generation students across undergraduate and graduate programs. From his perch as researcher, educator, and student affairs insider, he offers a unique understanding of the challenges facing high-needs students, as well as those supporting them. He’s also committed to being part of the solution — one that hinges on scholarship and student services working together.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;To start, could you give a bit of background on your research and areas of expertise up to now?



TJ: In my first book, “The Privileged Poor,” I discussed an overlooked diversity in higher education. Universities were doubling their efforts to recruit lower-income and first-generation college students, and many universities had actually almost doubled the number of Pell-eligible students who they were admitting. But my question was always: Where are they getting those students from? And what I show in my first book is that they were actually going to get their new diversity from old sources: boarding, day, and preparatory high schools. And I called those students the “privileged poor,” lower-income students from boarding, day, and preparatory high schools. And I called their peers who went to low-income — typically distressed — public schools the “doubly disadvantaged” and showed how students' trajectories to college shaped their trajectories through. 



One thing in that book that I wish I was able to engage with more was how the inequality at home so often comes to campus. “Class Dismissed” was born out of a pebble-in-a shoe-type moment, where all the presidents of universities were like, “I didn't know our students didn't have internet at home. I didn't really know what kind of communities they were coming from.” And I'm just like, but you do. Your admissions officers know. From their personal statements — because you make them pimp out their poverty — you know where they come from. You know what they're returning to. “Class Dismissed” was a response to that. What was important for me to bring to “Class Dismissed” is to say that COVID exacerbated the very inequalities that students were suffering with in silence. 



LW:&nbsp;And you are now involved in translating some of those lessons into practical supports, right? At the Newbury Center at B.U.? Could you say a bit about what goes on there and what it means to be the "inaugural" faculty director?&nbsp;



TJ: The Newbury Center is this amazing opportunity to put my research into action because the Newbury Center is a resource center for first-gen undergraduate, graduate, and professional students. There usually isn't this coordinated, university-wide effort to support students who are first in their families to go to college. And so the Newbury Center is unique in that sense. And it's a really amazing opportunity, as well as a monumental task. Because we have people who are coming in at 17 and 18, and we also have people who are coming in at 30 and 40.



My inclusion is to put research more central to the endeavor: How do we support our undergraduates to go to study abroad? How do we make sure that we understand the best practices to help them get internships — to get opportunities to extend learning beyond the classroom? Those are the kind of things that I'm able to do and support with research. During the summer, we actually help students who take on unpaid or low-pay internships with stipends. It is so stressful to be able to have this amazing opportunity to work in a field that you love, but you can't afford to live where the internship is. We can help fill that gap for lower-income students. Not as much as I would hope, but that's also why I'm helping to expand the center so that we can help more people. 



LW:&nbsp;So had you heard of the Newbury Center when you were at Harvard, and it became sort of a driving force for you to move over and get more involved?&nbsp;



TJ: The Newbury Center is still a very young center. Five years. The ability to craft its trajectory from early on was an attractive piece to get me to think about going from just being a producer of research to now also being tasked to create policy and advocate on behalf of students across the country. 



My work on food insecurity is a huge piece, where I can actually engage with deans. I was doing that in addition to my work at Harvard, but now it is part and parcel of my advocacy work at B.U. My work on mental health has shifted from being a finding that I have about how students do or do not seek help to now being able to invite directors of mental health services to campus as part of an annual conversation. 



LW:&nbsp;It's interesting that you say that. I was thinking about that dual role you’re playing as a professor and then in more of a student services role at the Newbury Center. Did that feel like kind of a natural balance for you to strike? Was there ever any kind of hesitation or feeling like you needed to stay in one lane?&nbsp;



TJ: No, for me, from the very beginning, my philosophy was: Why just write about it when you can do something about it? 



In “Class Dismissed,” I have this line: “Now that we know what we know, what are we going to do about it?” Don't just relegate a very, very important possible policy change — one that could fundamentally change the everyday existence for tens of thousands of students across the country — to a paragraph at the end of the paper. Why not give more life to it? It's ethical research. It's theoretically informed. It's empirically rich. Why not add that fourth element? And then also to write in an accessible way so that a president, a professor, a dean, a parent, can learn about what the children in their life are going through. 



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote">
"In 'Class Dismissed,' I have this line: 'Now that we know what we know, what are we going to do about it?'"
</blockquote>



LW:&nbsp;Right. On that note, what&nbsp;are&nbsp;young people going through right now? This is a broad question, but what are your major concerns at the moment for students, especially first-gen or low-income ones?



TJ: The thing that's top of mind right now? I mean, where do we go? We can talk about affirmative action, withholding of funds. It's just a lot, to be honest. But one thing that I think people need to realize is happening on campuses in this McCarthy-era-style politics that we find ourselves in — what we are seeing — is labeling what were once good student affairs practices as “benefits.” And any limiting of that newly labeled benefit to a particular group is seen as unconstitutional. That is a very different way of doing student affairs. Student affairs was saying, “Hey, we are here for everyone, but we also know that we have to take particular steps to welcome different groups. And we do that by allowing — supporting — affinity groups and hosting these different offices because we know that our campuses were literally not made for people here, who are here now.” 



Now that work is said to be giving an undue benefit to someone else and discriminating against, essentially, a white man, which is now the reference point for any kind of support service that you have. And that list is going to get longer and longer. It's going to go just from being a white student to a white male student to a white Christian male student to a white rich male student. And it's just going to keep getting longer and longer until that reference is a very narrow person, who is not the modal group on campus, and yet all policy and all practices are going to be seen as: Are you not allowing this person to feel comfortable here? 



LW:&nbsp;Have you been experiencing that firsthand through the Newbury Center or otherwise — restrictions to your work or your ability to support people?



TJ:&nbsp;To be honest with you, it's a day to day thing. We don't know when we're going to get another “dear colleague” letter. We don't know when another executive order is going to come out. We don't know if any university is going to keep fighting it through the justice system, knowing that the Supreme Court is what it is. And so we're waiting day-by-day to figure out: Can we continue to do the work that we do across the country?



LW:&nbsp;But so far, do you feel like — notwithstanding daily challenges or pivots — you've sort of been able to maintain the level of support that you had in years past?



TJ: So far. 



LW:&nbsp;And in terms of your student interactions, what are you hearing from them about the things that they're most nervous about? How do you guide them through that, if that's part of your role?&nbsp;



TJ: It's generalized anxiety about what is next — what's going to be possible. And so what we are trying to do is still encourage students to put themselves out there — go for every internship, go to study abroad, pick out your favorite spot in the library that you are going to be known for at your 20-year reunion: “I would always see you in the library right at your favorite window.” They can still make memories and take advantage of all the things that college provides. That is incredibly important. That's just huge. 



LW:&nbsp;What else are you thinking about going forward with this school year? What are you anticipating will be the biggest challenges both for your own work and also for the students that you support?&nbsp;



TJ: If it's two things that rob people of so much, it is scarcity and precarity. Right now, everything that we are trying to do is to make ends meet with less and in less time. And to be honest with you, this is the year that I want to be fully present for students and hear from them — learn from them — so that, as I craft out my next project, it is one that is going to not only expose what they went through but think critically about the policy and practice changes that can help support them going forward. 



LW:&nbsp;Is that something that you feel hopeful about? The idea that the policy change could really happen and make a difference?&nbsp;



TJ: First-gen-as-pawn is something I'm really grappling with right now because a lot of people are flocking to first-gen — to recruit first-gen. But they're not ready. They're still not ready.



LW:&nbsp;Not ready to support students once they actually come to campus?&nbsp;



TJ: Yeah, yeah. Those are some things I want to just grapple with. 



LW:&nbsp;In terms of a future research opportunity or just in general?&nbsp;



TJ:&nbsp;Well, for me, everything is going to be tied to investigating it. Students' voices inform the policy suggestions that I present to colleges because I believe that in students' voices are the keys to success and a more equitable future.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;Is it encouraging to see other actors or organizations with a similar outlook and doing similar work?



TJ:&nbsp;It's absolutely encouraging. Because that means that people are intentionally invested in making campuses not only more accessible but equitable. They would probably never be equal. But to have a more equitable space — people who are being intentional about removing some of the hurdles that disproportionately hurt, humble, and quite frankly, sometimes just destroy those who believe in education the most. Not as, “Oh, I have to go because my family has always gone.” But literally the people who believe in it because they believe in the power that they can completely transform their life.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;So still feeling like that's possible?&nbsp;



TJ: I'm a first-generation college student myself, so this work is inherently personal, as well as it is professional. I do believe in the power of research to change things. I do still believe in the power of education to be transformative. I believe in the power of research to make that transformative experience more accessible to more people. 



One thing I would love is a push for more researchers to write in an accessible way and not ignore general audiences. Because it's important — especially now in this age of misinformation — for more people to actually understand what goes into research and how our findings are not manipulated. We need to stop talking at people and have conversations with people. And so I don't think that work is any less theoretical just because people can understand it.&nbsp;



You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at <a href="mailto:mames@learningwellmag.org">mames@learningwellmag.org</a> with comments, ideas, or tips.

A Voice for High-Needs Students

At Fort Lewis College in Durango, Colo., the word “character” was not always a positive. The liberal arts college, which serves a large indigenous population, was once a federal Indian boarding school, notorious for coercive character formation aimed at extinguishing indigenous cultures. Now, as it addresses its painful past, Fort Lewis College is centering character education within a reconciliation initiative that goes beyond atonement to institutional change.&nbsp;&nbsp;



With a grant from Wake Forest University’s Educating Character Initiative (E.C.I.), Fort Lewis College is launching a Reconciliation Center — a campus-wide, interdisciplinary effort that values truth-seeking, engages students in experiential learning and problem-solving, and promotes the mutual respect needed to have the difficult conversations that lead to progress. Campus leaders hope that by overlaying institutional and individual aspects of character onto its reconciliation framework, Fort Lewis College will help all students navigate a better future.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“If we are to move forward as a society, we need to do so with intellectual curiosity and cultural humility so that we build community and belonging — not just for indigenous people but for everyone,” said Mathew Schaeffer, who is the Fort Lewis College reconciliation coordinator, an alumnus, and a citizen of the Hopi tribe.&nbsp;&nbsp;



Schaeffer recalls 2023 as a seminal year for him and for the institution itself. The state of Colorado had released a report investigating the experiences of students within the federal Indian boarding school system, which included Fort Lewis College. The school was established in 1891 as a cultural integration project in line with the country’s assimilation era after the frontier wars. The school, which closed in 1911, punished indigenous students for failing to abandon customs such as longer hair or speaking in native tongue. Part of their mandate was to eradicate what was considered the “bad character” of tribal people in favor of western, colonial mores.&nbsp;&nbsp;



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote">
“We have a collective responsibility to each other and to all our students to tell the truth, to learn from that, and to move forward together.”&nbsp;
</blockquote>



Two years earlier, the college had removed placards on campus which inaccurately and harmfully depicted the original school as a positive experience for indigenous children. It was the first step in a process that led to the inclusion in the school’s strategic plan of a four-part reconciliation framework including: tribal nation building, language reclamation, health and wellness, and indigenous culture and knowledge systems.&nbsp;



When the report on Colorado boarding schools came out, Schaeffer, who was then a student, was compelled to find out how well the reconciliation effort was understood and operationalized on campus. He conducted qualitative research on the subject as his senior thesis. His conclusion — that most campus members had only a vague understanding of this work — was presented to the then-president.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;



“What I found was that there was an appreciation for the work people were trying to do in this area, but there was confusion about how to apply it and what it meant for their day-to-day,” Schaeffer said.



Paul DeBell is a political science professor at Fort Lewis College and was the principal investigator on the E.C.I. grant project. When Schaeffer’s research came out, he had been teaching a political psychology course with students who were interested in having deeper conversations across lines of difference. While the reconciliation work was more familiar to him, he wasn’t surprised that his colleagues had trouble internalizing it.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“People would say to me, ‘You do political theory, so you get this. But I’m a chemistry professor, what does this mean to me in my classroom?’” he said.



DeBell added there were still pockets on campus where this work was done passionately, often involving students in experiential learning or service learning in the community. These reconciliation activities came under the purview of then-Vice President of Diversity Affairs — now President of Fort Lewis College — Heather Shotton, Ph.D. DeBell and Shotton had worked together on “difficult conversations” given their respective positions and came together again to pursue the Wake Forest E.C.I. grant opportunity.   



Funded&nbsp;by a large grant from the Lilly Endowment, the E.C.I. helps colleges and universities place character education at the center of their missions and practices in various and diverse ways. After receiving a capacity building grant from the E.C.I. to build out the idea for the Reconciliation Center, Fort Lewis College was awarded a nearly $1 million institutional impact grant this July to launch it.&nbsp;&nbsp;Character education became what DeBell called “the common element among all these spaces.”&nbsp;



The Inclusion of Character



“For us to be an institution of good character that serves Native American students and all of our students, we needed to be very thoughtful, respectful, and transparent about our past,” DeBell said. “Shaving off parts of history that make us feel bad is not demonstrating good character. But in the same respect, we also wanted to think of this as an opportunity for all of our students to build on their own character traits — to think about their own position in our society and the world.”



DeBell and Schaeffer agree that one of the most valuable benefits of being awarded the grant was the ability to name, frame, and communicate what reconciliation looks like at Fort Lewis College.&nbsp;



“Thinking about reconciliation from the perspective of character development gives us a common language and helps translate it to people who might not see themselves as a part of reconciliation,” said DeBell, who noted even the word “reconciliation” is open to broad interpretation.&nbsp;



For a school with a cautionary history around character, what reconciliation should&nbsp;not&nbsp;look like at Fort Lewis is the imposition of character. Not only does the Reconciliation Center recognize indigenous people’s standards of character — historically excluded from western understanding of the subject — it encourages students to explore what good character means to them. In this sense, the character/reconciliation work offers students a new avenue for self-discovery, empathy, purpose, and meaning.&nbsp;&nbsp;



According to its grant report, the Center will “embed a Community Bridging Institute where students will work shoulder-to-shoulder with faculty and staff mentors to hone their dialogue skills as they learn to navigate conflict, embrace multiple perspectives, and move between western and Indigenous ways of knowing.”&nbsp;



One of the key pillars of the character and reconciliation work at Fort Lewis College is curriculum innovation and student impact, which leverages the school’s asset as a liberal arts college with a deep learner-centered pedagogy.&nbsp;&nbsp;Building off of a strong commitment to experiential learning, activities within the Center include undergraduate research projects with faculty mentors and an Educating Character Fellowship Program, where students and faculty will explore the intersection of reconciliation, character education, and personal meaning.&nbsp;&nbsp;



The Center just hired its inaugural director, Rosalinda Linares-Gray, who will begin building the scaffolding around the Center’s initiatives and activities, many of which are already underway. The first step is to organize those efforts and connect the people who are involved, letting them lead the way. Having a home for this work helps further one of the initiatives founding goals: to foster a campus culture where reconciliation is understood as a collective responsibility.



DeBell and Schaeffer believe the establishment of the Center has already helped in this regard, and many of the activities within the project plan include the direct engagement of faculty and staff. But they believe the most effective way of gaining buy-in across campus, or across the country, for reconciliation work is to present it as a public good — a benefit to all.&nbsp;



Asked if he worries how the Reconciliation Center might be perceived by political forces determined to root out anything resembling diversity, equity, and inclusion programs, DeBell admits to having some concern, but only if the initiative is misunderstood.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“We have a collective responsibility to each other and to all our students to tell the truth, to learn from that, and to move forward together.”&nbsp;



In April of this year, Heather Shotton was named President of Fort Lewis College, making history as the first Native American to lead the institution. 



You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at&nbsp;<a href="mailto:mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org">mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org</a>&nbsp;with comments, ideas, or tips.

Character and Reconciliation

Seven years ago, Sam touched down in the United States, alone. Just 17, she had left her mother and siblings behind in West Africa to live with her father in New England, where he waited with her new green card.



But Sam’s arrival was one of the first and last parts of the move to go as planned. Her father became abusive, and after the pandemic descended, she moved in with a teacher who’d grown worried about her welfare. From then on, Sam’s education became both anchor and bridge to a better life.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“I got that security from my teachers,” she said.&nbsp;



College presented another respite from home, although it ended up coming with its own set of challenges, especially financial. From her first day on campus, Sam felt lost. She struggled to make friends in a dominant social culture that seemed to require an entrance fee she couldn’t pay. For her chronic health issues, she could barely afford transportation to appointments, let alone medical bills.&nbsp;&nbsp;



Every year, Sam said, she wrote letters to the university administration explaining her financial shortcomings and appealing for leniency. The process started to feel dehumanizing, she said, as she found herself trying to prove “my story is sad enough to give me some aid.”



Yet she pushed on, often powered by a simple but effective refrain: “I don’t want to be poor.” Halfway through her first year, she caught a break when she was connected to the&nbsp;<a href="https://thewilynetwork.org/">Wily Network</a>, a non-profit based in the Boston area that provides holistic support to students navigating college without family assistance. The Wily Network helped Sam cover basic needs and went to bat for her before her last semester when it looked like she wouldn’t be able to make the final payment.&nbsp;



Sam graduated this May, against all odds, and just in time to avoid some of the added fear students like her are experiencing, as the Trump Administration plans major changes to higher education and related social services. Months of speculation surrounding cuts to federal financial aid and public assistance, the elimination of diversity, equity, and inclusion (D.E.I.) resources, and the removal of immigrant and international students have left learners already at the greatest disadvantage haunted by the precarity of their situation. As the overwhelming uncertainty continues, it is these students who hang in the balance — those who rely on college for their safety and welfare and are one policy move away from losing it all.&nbsp;



Keeping It Together



As the executive director of the Wily Network, Judi Alperin King, Ph.D., has had a front row seat to the host of new challenges her students have been managing in recent months.



The ground had always been shaky for those the Wily Network serves, Alperin King said, but at least they knew more or less what to expect. “Now that shaky ground is unpredictable.”&nbsp;



“You cannot see the cracks in the foundation, and they just keep appearing,” Alperin King said. “Every day there’s a new crack, but it wasn’t in the place you thought it was going to be.”



Earlier this summer, one of Alperin King’s students flew across the country and drove deep into a rural territory, only to arrive and discover the internship that led him there had been cancelled. The work he’d been hired to assist was defunded amid the slew of cuts to federally funded programs, spanning climate and cancer research, foreign aid, and D.E.I. initiatives.



Other students had found out they lost their jobs before relocating for them, Alperin King said. This one hadn’t been so lucky.



With the student’s call alerting them to what happened, the Wily staff spurred to action, trying to figure out how exactly to get him to the airport from an area, apparently, without access to Ubers or even taxis. From there, he would need money for a ticket to Boston, a place to live when he got there, groceries to eat, and income to support himself until school started up in the fall. Without Wily on standby, he might have found himself stranded.



Some developments, like internship-ending cuts to programs and research, are affecting students in real time. Others simply loom, making everyone squirm.&nbsp;



At any given time, top of mind for students assisted by the Wily Network is whether they’ll continue to be able to pay for college. Concerns have been churning around the fate of federal financial aid since Trump first began promoting the closure of the Department of Education and then signed an&nbsp;<a href="https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/2025/03/improving-education-outcomes-by-empowering-parents-states-and-communities/">executive order</a>&nbsp;to that effect in March 2025.&nbsp;



Assurances from Education Secretary Linda McMahon that aid would continue didn’t assuage worries, especially as the initial version of Trump’s bill overhauling domestic policy included reductions to the maximum award for federal Pell Grants, which prop up more than six million students with the highest financial need.



This month, the bill that passed Congress and Trump signed into law didn’t include the Pell restrictions that had stoked the most fear, although there are other implications for financial aid. Among them are the elimination of Pell eligibility for students already receiving full scholarships from their institutions, as well as the expansion of Pell to cover shorter-term workforce training programs. In addition, the bill sets limits around the lifetime amount of federal aid students can receive for graduate school and winds down the number of loan repayment plans to two.&nbsp;



Perhaps raising the most alarm are the law’s cuts to public assistance programs, namely Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), or food stamps. In 2020, an estimated 3.3 million students qualified for SNAP. But even if the changes don’t impact students directly, a trickle-down effect could. As states look to trim their budgets to fill the new gaps left in health care and food assistance, sector experts have warned higher education could take a hit that cuts back student support services or ramps up tuition costs.



The Trump bill’s changes to Medicaid and SNAP also involve denying eligibility to certain legal residents, including refugees and asylees. These restrictions come on the back of a larger crackdown on noncitizens in the United States.



From a higher education standpoint, these efforts have included the high-profile detention of international students, legally in the United States, targeted by Immigration and Customs Enforcement for their involvement in pro-Palestine advocacy on campus. The Trump Administration has also threatened to bar entry to international students who go to Harvard University as part of an ongoing power struggle with the Ivy League institution.



Any student originally from outside the United States or with family members from outside may be feeling vulnerable. Even Sam, armed with a green card upon arrival almost a decade ago, said she often can’t sleep at night from worrying about her status in the country. Learning about the recent detainment of an undocumented high school student by ICE in the town where she now lives didn’t make her feel better.&nbsp;



“I think for me, I have always been scared,” she said. “I’m legal. I paid a lot of money to be here, but if you’ve never dealt with immigration before, it’s one hell of a beast.”&nbsp;



<blockquote class="wp-block-quote">
“I think for me, I have always been scared."
</blockquote>



While policy confusion stirs up fear for high-needs students around their ability to stay on campus or in the country, the support services once designed to help them navigate this type of uncertainty are also taking a hit.&nbsp;



Social worker Jamie Bennett, Ph.D., leads the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.fosteringsuccesscoaching.com/">Fostering Success Coaching Institute</a>, which trains staff at groups like the Wily Network in best practices to assist high-needs students. Through her partnerships with these organizations, on and off college campuses, Bennett has gained first-hand insight into the kind of pressure they now find themselves under. At least two have undergone “mass layoffs,” Bennett said, due to funding cuts.



At a recent event Bennett hosted, free of charge and ironically focused on practitioner wellbeing, she guessed about 20 percent of those she had expected didn’t show. “Either they had lost their job or they were taking on responsibility from colleagues who were being laid off, so they couldn’t join,” she said.



For the most part, Bennett has been able to stave off any fallout for her work. But she imagines cutbacks for her partners could reduce her own services down the road. “That’s going to impact our ability to keep offering as many trainings as we do,” she said. “If they don’t have the funds to send their folks to professional development, they don’t come to us.”&nbsp;



The Wily Network’s efforts have been affected, as well, as the flurry of cuts to university departments and resources leave even veteran advocates like Judi Alperin King unsure of how to help students. “In some ways, we’ve lost our power,” she said of her and her staff of "coaches." With boundaries different from those of therapists and mentors, coaches take on wide-ranging tasks, from troubleshooting social problems and locating academic resources for students to acting as the emergency contact they wouldn’t otherwise have.&nbsp;



“We knew what to do. Not every situation, but a lot of situations, they were predictable, and we could say, ‘Okay, here are the three steps you can take to support yourself through this,’” Alperin King said. Now those steps may no longer apply.&nbsp;



Although neither Alperin King nor Bennett’s organizations receive federal funding, concerns have still emerged about whether they can completely evade government scrutiny. Both leaders have heard rumors that their group’s nonprofit status, which falls under the purview of the Internal Revenue Code, could be at risk should any of their activities draw higher concern, most likely in relation to the promotion of D.E.I.&nbsp;&nbsp;



Those warnings haven’t stopped either from maintaining commitments to D.E.I., whether in spirit or explicitly on the company website and other materials. Bennett is firm on upholding her organization’s founding ideals. “We will say what we feel is just and what we feel is aligned with our values. Which are aligned on equity. They’re aligned on inclusion. They’re aligned on everybody’s voice matters.”&nbsp;



While not overly concerned about her own job security, Bennett does worry about how that kind of stress, combined with increasing student needs, may affect the emotional wellbeing of other service providers. It’s critical, she said, for them to be “well and resourced and feel like they’re equipped to do their work, as they meet with students who have really complex situations and trauma.”



“If we start to see the support of them drop off, then it makes me nervous for what students will start to notice,” Bennett said.



At the Wily Network, one coach has begun to find her background in hospice care unsettlingly relevant to her current role supporting high-needs college students.



“You don’t really coach people at the end of life. You just sit with them, like, ‘Yep, death. Death is death,’” she said. Working with young people facing the unknown where their degree and future are concerned has started to feel like a similar experience.



“It’s more of an existential suffering,” she said.



The same coach has been struggling under the increasing weight of her students’ challenges. Guilt is a dominant emotion, stemming from the understanding she can distance herself from issues surfacing in higher education, from her job, in a way students can’t.&nbsp;



“I feel like my empathic distress for students is harder to manage because, I mean, what’s going on is hard for me, but I feel like I have a home. I have a job. I have a lot of ‘knowns’ in my life that ballast against what's going on,” she said.&nbsp;



Student mental health has always been a prime concern for coaches, but now the uncertainty and fear fueled by real and perceived policy changes seem like the ultimate pile-on for young people already emotionally tested by years of striving and struggling.&nbsp;



Alperin King knows her students are among the most resilient in higher education. She once used that fact to recruit new coaches, advertising the joys of championing talented students uniquely capable of battling through barriers — all the way to and through college.&nbsp;&nbsp;



Students without family support who make it to college have a history of defying expectations. People like Alperin King and her colleagues are now asking, “Do we really need to raise the bar?”&nbsp;







LearningWell used the pseudonym "Sam" and withheld other names in this article due to subjects' privacy concerns. 



You can reach LearningWell reporter Mollie Ames at mames@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

Without a Net

At a time when public conversation often seems defined by fragmentation, colleges are increasingly asking how they can help students develop the habits of thoughtful disagreement. A growing number of institutions have created centers focused on civil discourse, hoping to foster intellectual complexity, humility, and respect. Davidson College’s new Institute for Public Good reflects this broader movement while also drawing on a distinctive institutional history — a culture shaped for generations by an Honor Code that places character formation at the center of learning.



In August, the small liberal arts school in North Carolina formally established the institute as a hub for civic engagement, ethical leadership, and open dialogue. Home to only around 2,000 students, Davidson has quickly attracted unusually strong support for the project, including more than $50 million from a combination of private and public funders.



The early momentum reflects a central claim of the institute’s leaders based on the school’s core identity: that the most meaningful civil discourse is rooted in a broader culture of character formation, rather than programming alone.



According to Chris Marsicano, the inaugural director of the institute and a Davidson graduate, this new initiative is the college’s “attempt to plant a flag in higher education and say, ‘We’re going to do this right.’”



“We’re going to develop the leadership for the next generation of leaders, and we're going to do it in the ways that we care about when it comes to character,” Marsicano said. “We're tired of seeing political leaders who do not have integrity, and certainly the American public are.”



The institute’s first major contribution came from the Educating Character Initiative (E.C.I.) at Wake Forest University, whose $750,000 grant and seal of approval evidently opened the floodgates. Since the beginning of 2026, Davidson has announced a $4 million grant from the Department of Education — the largest federal award in the college’s history — and, most recently, $47 million raised from a handful of alumni and individuals. In honor of one family of donors, the center has been renamed the D.G. and Harriet Wall Martin Institute for Public Good.



Honored Traditions



Marsicano didn’t always think of Davidson’s focus on honor and integrity explicitly as “character education.” But now, he finds, the shoe fits.&nbsp;



“In some ways, I’ve always been into character education,” he said.



The same could be said of Davidson as a whole. Its signature Honor Code dates back to the college’s inception, and every year, the newest students continue to participate in a formal ceremony where they sign their names on the pledge not to lie, cheat, or steal.&nbsp;



The implications are academic, but not only. Perhaps the most notable feat of the Honor Code is that it holds up beyond the classroom. Somehow, it doesn’t simply slip from students’ minds once they’ve closed their blue books or handed in their papers.



Connor Hines, a senior at Davidson, said the Honor Code shaped his thinking long before he arrived on campus. His mother, an alumna, had invoked the code to teach him the difference between right and wrong.



“I can hear her saying, ‘Well, when I went to college, we had this Honor Code and you weren't allowed to do X, Y, Z,’” Hines said. “And so that really has been the lens which I've viewed most of my life through and grown up around.”



Hines, now the president of Davidson’s student government, insists the Honor Code really does play out in the everyday. He said his peers and professors operate with such a distinct level of care for and sense of accountability to each other that his friends from other schools comment on the difference when they visit. The vow to return a lost wallet, Hines explained, translates similarly to an effort to remember personal details about others and make them feel known on campus among the crowd.



“If it were just a parchment statement hanging up in our academic building that you don't interact with, sure, it would probably fade away,” Hines said. “But just with the number of opportunities that you have to interact with the Honor Code, I think is what continues its enduring strength.”



Davidson’s emphasis on civil discourse has been similarly enduring. The school’s original debate clubs, the Philanthropic and Eumenean Societies, are known to have been the heart of early social life. The groups’ dueling members used to stand on the balconies of their adjacent matching brick buildings on the quad and battle back and forth on chosen issues.&nbsp;



Although the societies don’t function today as they once did, the original sites remain, and every four years, the college republicans and democrats face off from the same balconies to debate the presidential election. A crowd of several hundred more students gathers to spectate.&nbsp;



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"The ability to disagree with each other is in our D.N.A."
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The Eumenean Society remains a student-run civil discourse organization, while Philanthropic took on a more literary focus. At current Eumenean meetings, students pull random topics out of a bowl to debate that range from federal housing policy to M&amp;Ms versus Skittles. Davidson students continue to feel the pull towards intensive engagement with each other in both the liberal arts academic and social life.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“The ability to disagree with each other is in our D.N.A. We are a liberal arts college in a purple state on the border between two states,” Marsicano said. “We have people who are conservative from New England and liberal from the south. We have people from abroad who are as libertarian as they come and socialist students from right down the street. That is who we are.”&nbsp;



Marsicano added that the protections for freedom of speech upheld in Davidson’s constitution are among the strongest “of any college in America.” “Any student group can invite anybody to campus to speak, and the administration cannot stop it from happening,” he said.



Hines, a political science major who grew up a short drive away from Davidson, considers himself a moderate conservative. His best friend and roommate for the last four years is a communist, the first Hines had ever met.



“I've spent way too many long nights and hours in the library having discussions and debates around policy, politics, political theory, probably to the detriment of my work,” Hines said.&nbsp;



“You can have those conversations because we're a small school — 2,000 people — yes. But the diversity of thought within those 2,000 students is incredible.”



&nbsp;A New Home



Now both the Honor Code and the tradition of civil discourse are taking up residence in a new home: the Martin Institute for Public Good, which will be operating out of the historic Philanthropic and Eumanean buildings.



With the Martin Institute organized into four categories of programming, the Honor Code falls under Ethics, Honor, &amp; Leadership, while civil discourse is part of Deliberation &amp; Free Expression. The other two areas of work are Public Policy &amp; Research and Arts and Public Life.



These categories capture not just the variety of topics the Martin Institute is bringing together but the diverse approaches. Within the same center will be an arm for community engagement opportunities, for academic development and innovation, and for public policy and other research.



“It is probably the most ambitious academic initiative at Davidson College in the past 30 years because it is trying to follow a model that, at least to our knowledge, is not followed elsewhere fully,” Marsicano said.



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“Our model is one that builds up character in a time where people are starving for it."
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The funding from the E.C.I. is supporting work in Ethics, Honor, &amp; Leadership, where the primary initiatives include faculty grants to incorporate character education into curricula and a national convening bringing together student honor councils at various colleges.



The national convening, which has been held twice now, is a chance for students around the country interested in ideas of academic and general integrity to discuss their common or unique challenges and help each other work through them.



Artificial intelligence and its implications for cheating, for example, have become particularly pressing concerns in recent years. Even if no one is entirely confident in the best way forward, Hines said, it’s exciting to be building a “network of leaders between schools that we can rely on if we continue to have questions or as we just navigate the challenges that we face.”



Hines also spearheaded the production of Davidson’s first-ever Celebration of Honor, a week-long, all-campus event to highlight the impact of the Honor Code. Programming spanned a panel of stand-out Davidson alumni discussing the legacy of the Honor Code in their lives to less formal gatherings, like an ice cream social, Hines called opportunities to “just connect.”



Another effort benefitting from E.C.I. support is an ongoing attempt to develop a new version of the Personal and Social Responsibility Inventory, a tool used to assess different facets of campus climate, to include academic freedom. That resource would allow Davidson to measure its own success in that area and help other campuses do the same.&nbsp;



The $4 million from the Department of Education will go towards Deliberation &amp; Free Expression programming, specifically the development of a Deliberative Citizenship Network. Through the D.C.N., Davidson will be supporting a group of 100 other institutions in their efforts to train faculty, support students, form partnerships, and engineer new tools to strengthen campus discourse around contentious issues.&nbsp;



Marsicano said he’s not overly concerned that the funds from the Department of Education could be affected — that is, revoked — like other federal grants to higher education in the last year. But he was firm that should the money be threatened, Davidson won’t be sacrificing its own vision or values for the sake of staying afloat.



While Davidson focuses on bolstering opportunities and resources for its own community where its traditions run the deepest, it anticipates a new road as a leader in this work for others.



“Our model is one that builds up character in a time where people are starving for it," &nbsp;Marsicano said. “They're starving for exemplars. They're starving for training and education.”&nbsp;



“We just happen to have a model that is set up to do it.”



You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at&nbsp;<a href="mailto:mames@learningwellmag.org">mames@learningwellmag.org</a>&nbsp;with comments, ideas, or tips.

The Davidson Difference

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 This story from Olin College of Engineering graduate Michael Costello finds him wondering which pieces of his high school identity to bring into college. In the absence of actively cultivating his identity, he discovers his ability to flourish in college gets tangled up — like hair that hasn’t been cut in a while.

Storytelling | "Split Ends," Michael Costello

Julia entered college in 2023 pretty sure of two things: that she wanted to major in either art history or French and that she wanted to study abroad. At the time, her dream career involved working in and around museums. 



Now a junior, she is majoring in both French and art, but considers her third major, business, her “primary field” — and sees going into finance a means to all her desired ends. She regrets that study abroad is no longer in the cards, collateral damage in the struggle to meet strenuous requirements for all three departments.&nbsp;



“One day when I exit the corporate world and I've made enough money, I would love to use my business skills and connections in the art world and be able to travel,” Julia said. “When I got on campus, I started to appreciate that there’s a difference between the things you want to do and the things you actually do so you can someday work in the things you want to do.” 



Her calculation reflects a broader shift taking place on college campuses across the country. The rising number of students pursuing double majors — and sometimes triple majors — has increased five-fold at some universities, as students strive to differentiate themselves in a competitive job market and hedge against an uncertain economic future.



But as students stack credentials, advisors and mental health professionals are raising questions about what may be lost in the process: not only balance and wellbeing but also the exploratory, formative aspects of college that can shape a life and career in less easily quantifiable ways.



The Credentials Arms Race



Some observers note what they call a “credential arms race,” the growth of students accumulating academic achievements to remain competitive.&nbsp;



Data from colleges across the U.S. suggest that the share of students graduating with more than one major has risen significantly over the past decade. Reporting by The Hechinger Report has documented a wide spectrum of increases: The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill has seen a 20% increase; Brown University, 97%; Harvard, 334%; and Drexel, a 591% increase.



Administrators acknowledge the trend is part of a broader socio-economic picture: students worrying about job prospects and attempting to increase their career viability and areas of expertise. Students often frame the decision pragmatically; in an era of economic volatility, rising tuition costs, and rapid technological change, pursuing multiple fields of study can feel like a form of risk management.



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In an era of economic volatility, rising tuition costs, and rapid technological change, pursuing multiple fields of study can feel like a form of risk management.
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But advisors say the motivations are varied, and evolving. Today’s students are navigating a labor market shaped by automation, shifting industry demands, and heightened expectations around early career readiness. Many feel pressure to demonstrate both specialization and versatility at the same time — a challenging balance for anyone, let alone someone still discovering their intellectual interests. And as college costs skyrocket, many feel pressure to make a degree, or degrees, matter as much as they can.



“There’s a sense that students want to keep as many doors open as possible,” said Nigel Richardson, the assistant provost for university advising and student success at the University of Florida. Richardson said he and colleagues increasingly hear from students who arrive on campus already planning to double major or add multiple credentials. “A lot of students are thinking more means better,” he said. “If I have more credentials, that’s going to make me more competitive.”&nbsp;



Hedging Bets in an Uncertain Economy



Students’ motivations for stacking majors are often deeply pragmatic. Many are aware that the labor market they enter after graduation may look quite different from the one that existed even a decade earlier. News headlines regularly discuss artificial intelligence, layoffs in once-stable industries, and the possibility that workers may hold many different roles over the course of their careers.



Even when students don’t explicitly cite A.I., advisors say the broader sense of uncertainty influences how they approach their education. Richardson noted that students are increasingly thinking strategically about how their academic choices position them for employment. Some combine technical and non-technical fields, pairing disciplines like data science with psychology, economics with public policy, or business with the arts.&nbsp;



“Students are thinking about covering bases, but they aren’t fully aware of the costs,” Richardson said. “It’s this desire for more, and their answer — in this environment that they’re in and paying for — is another academic program.”



Alyssa, a sophomore at a highly competitive school in the northeast, has always found child studies fascinating. She speaks eloquently about her fascination with what makes children tick and evolve while maximizing their potential. Working with a nonprofit dedicated to the wellbeing of under-resourced children, she said, has always been her passion. But not her current path.



“I always knew I wanted to have a corporate moment first — to have a sustainable lifestyle — and later, after I’ve been a corporate strategy expert, I can segue into being the head of a nonprofit for children, get globally involved. I’m passionate about that work, but I’m more passionate right now about being corporate first because that’s going to make my life way easier to support in the long run.”&nbsp;



She applied to college with child development as her intended major, knowing it was a less-competitive route into that school. Once she was accepted, she set the groundwork to add a major in business and set her sights on pursuing consulting firms. She just completed a career fair in New York to be introduced to the Big Four, an opportunity she secured by getting involved with her school’s career office early in her first year.&nbsp;



“You have to do all these things because everyone else is doing all these things. It’s not enough to be a double major. You also have to be in the business frat — which I didn’t get into, after trying three semesters — and minor in Chinese or math or data science and have extra-curricular leadership. Everyone’s just generating anxiety,” Alyssa said. The competitive campus environment she describes is one where students are running on all cylinders to be and do everything, realizing that academic credentials alone may not be sufficient to secure employment. Energy and commitment might be the most valuable resources of all. “You have to be really intentional with your time,” she said. “You can’t risk not succeeding in a course, not graduating on time.”&nbsp;



When Efficiency Meets Opportunity



Clearly, not all students double major expressly out of fear of job competition and instability. Many are making room for two strong interests. Some have the advantage of arriving on campus with significant numbers of Advanced Placement or dual-enrollment credits. This allows them to fulfill general education requirements quickly — and puts them on an efficient path, if they choose to maximize the use of credits towards multiple credentials for the same time and cost. Others benefit from financial aid structures that cover a set number of credits, encouraging them to maximize the academic opportunities included in that tuition.



In such cases, adding another major can appear to be an efficient use of resources. Students may reason that if they are already enrolled full-time, pursuing an additional field of study adds value without increasing cost. It’s just slicing and dicing your time in a focused way. Some institutions have also designed interdisciplinary programs that make double majoring cover even more ground.&nbsp;



But efficiency can come with tradeoffs. Richardson introduces students to the idea of a “T-shaped” education — one that combines breadth across disciplines with depth in a particular area of expertise. He cautions that pursuing breadth can sometimes come “at the expense of depth,” limiting opportunities for sustained research engagement or deeper learning within a primary field. The major itself is only one piece of the professional profile, he stresses, along with research, volunteering, and shadowing, all part of a holistic experience.&nbsp;



“If you’re not going deeper into a topic, you’re not increasing your level of understanding or opportunities for hands-on expertise or fruitful relationships with faculty and classmates. Students might think it’s going to make them more competitive. But they could miss that meaningful engagement that’s expected within each of these respective departments in their pursuit of this double or triple major.”



The Stress of Optimizing



Completing multiple majors calls for careful academic planning — timing when required courses are offered — and a willingness to take on heavy course loads. Students may need to coordinate requirements across departments, enroll in classes offered only once per year, and forgo scheduling flexibility.



Kirsten Behling, the associate dean of student accessibility and academic resources at Tufts University, said her office frequently works with students managing the demands of double majors or combinations of majors and minors.



“Students are generally a little bit overwhelmed with the amount of content that they have to cover and how tricky it is to organize getting into the courses you need when they’re offered,” she said. “With multiple majors, they hit the burnout button earlier. They may think they’re doing O.K., until they aren’t.”



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“With multiple majors, they hit the burnout button earlier. They may think they’re doing O.K., until they aren’t.”
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Academic coaching services can help students develop time management strategies and adjust expectations when workloads become difficult to sustain. Behling noted that students sometimes feel locked into rigid academic pathways once they commit to multiple programs or realize they have to miss out on certain options. The inability to participate in study abroad or other experiential learning opportunities can be a significant loss, she added, given the role such experiences play in developing independence, cultural competence, and professional skills.



Missing out on options also has a very everyday component: just plain missing out on hanging out. Mental health professionals find that heavy academic loads can reduce the time students have for social interaction, exercise, and rest.



Eric Wood, the director of counseling and mental health at Texas Christian University, said it is logical that students taking on multiple majors feel the weight of increased demands on their time.



“If you’re doing double majoring, you’re doing more courses,” he said. “You have more demand from faculty, more demand from coaches, and less time socially — even less if you also are holding a part-time job.” Wood said concerns about the job market are common among college students, particularly graduating seniors. “I think it’s only natural that they are absorbing what they hear and read about the economy and job market and A.I. and doing everything they can to protect themselves. But sometimes you don’t realize that frantic protection isn’t actually protecting you.”



When students respond to that anxiety by seeking ways to strengthen their academic profile, counselors try to gently remind them that additional coursework is not the only or best path to career readiness. “Some advisors encourage students to consider whether adding another major will genuinely support their goals or simply add pressure,” Wood said.



A Narrowing of the College Experience?&nbsp;



College has traditionally been framed as a time for intellectual exploration and personal development, as well as career preparation. But students may feel pressure to optimize every aspect of their academic trajectory, leaving less time for activities that contribute to broader growth. Networking events, internships, leadership roles, and collaborative projects often require time flexibility that becomes harder to maintain alongside dense academic schedules.



Behling observes that many students increasingly approach higher education with a highly instrumental mindset. “There’s definitely a ‘means to an end’ mentality,” she said. “I have to do this thing that looks good in order to get this job or this graduate school entry, and sometimes this is emphasized by family, too. If the Tufts experience becomes a means to an end, it’s less about the collegiate, holistic experience — which is something I really believe in — and more the drive, drive, drive to get to the other side of graduation.”



Students are doing what they think they need to do to get a job, Behling said. But that perception may not always reflect employer expectations. Advisors often emphasize that internships, research experience, and interpersonal skills play a significant role in hiring decisions.



Richardson encourages students to ask&nbsp;why&nbsp;they want multiple majors and what they hope those additional programs will accomplish. A second major can contribute to intellectual growth, he advises, but it is not the only way to demonstrate versatility. Often, he finds that students are motivated less by curiosity than by a desire to reduce uncertainty.&nbsp;



“Oftentimes when I’m having this conversation, what comes out is risk management: ‘I have to have the funds; I have to make sure the doors are opened.’ I often don’t hear much about intellectual exploration, and I try to find ways to help them remain curious,” he said. “There are many different ways to approach their preparation to graduate, which could include multiple majors, but there might be other skills and personal attributes that end up mattering a lot more.”



A Recalibration of Success



The rise of double and triple majors suggests that students are responding actively to changing expectations about education and employment. Yet advisors emphasize that academic credentials represent only one dimension of readiness. Relationships, experiences, and intellectual curiosity often shape opportunities in ways that transcripts alone cannot capture.



The challenge for students — and for institutions — may be finding ways to support ambition without sacrificing wellbeing or the broader developmental value of the college experience. Meaningful one-on-one conversations with influential faculty advisors can help. But it’s more easily done in the context of a larger culture shift. In an arms race, it’s hard to unilaterally walk away.



“I do think I do a pretty good job trying to be in the present and appreciate where I am. I love my school. It feels like home, and I love spending time kicking back with my friends,” Alyssa said. “But then I look around at what everyone else is doing, and I feel so dumb that I’m not doing more. It’s just so much harder than I thought.”

Stacking Majors in an Age of Anxiety

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On this episode of LearningWell Radio, Dustin Liu, the senior associate director of the Institute on Purpose and Flourishing at New York University’s Stern School of Business, joins for a conversation about the tropes and truths of working alongside Gen Z. He discusses the complexities of navigating today’s five-generation workplace and how educators and employers alike can make it one where everyone flourishes.



Listen now on <a href="https://open.spotify.com/episode/5rCAig1z0nvT2EEhUaFAon?si=c0d0d73fe37346cb">Spotify</a> or <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/learningwell-radio/id1732284927?i=1000757054485">Apple Podcasts</a>.



You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at <a href="mailto:mames@learningwellmag.org">mames@learningwellmag.org</a> with comments, ideas, or tips.

Gen Z at Work with Dustin Liu

Despite battling a double-bout of Covid-19 and strep throat, Destiny Barletta is smiling when she joins our Zoom call. The director of alumnae connections at Wellesley College even dressed up for the occasion, sporting a lime houndstooth blazer (and summoning the signature pantsuits of her institution’s most famous graduate, Hillary Clinton). There’s very little, apparently, that could keep Barletta from talking about her work supporting the professional development of Wellesley alumnae.  



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And that means all of them. Unlike many colleges and universities whose career centers focus on enrolled students and more recent graduates, the prestigious women’s college in Wellesley, Mass. has, for the last ten years, extended services to alumnae of any age or stage. As Barletta explains, career is rarely one-and-done, particularly in our rapidly changing world. At Wellesley, career development now means embarking on a lifelong search for growth and meaning. After all, even former Secretary of State Clinton navigated her share of job transitions — and weighty ones at that.



As the offerings at Wellesley’s <a href="https://careereducation.wellesley.edu/">Center for Career Education</a> continue to become better known, more are taking advantage. 1,915 graduates attended advising appointments between June 2024 and 2025, nearly 300 more than in the previous year. With LearningWell, Barletta describes what that lifelong professional engagement looks like in practice, why it’s important for alumnae and students alike, and how it’s bringing a global institutional community closer together. 
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LW:&nbsp;I thought we could start by talking about your title — the director of alumnae connections. What exactly does that entail?&nbsp;



DB:&nbsp;So that entails thinking about career education in terms of alums and their careers, much in the way that many career centers work with students — exploration, industry advising, and&nbsp;support&nbsp;around very functional things, like cover letters and application materials and interviewing. All of those kinds of conversations that we have with students, we also have with alums, but tailored to where alums are in their careers — all the way from those second destination roles to thinking about what an active retirement might look like.&nbsp;



Reentry to the workforce after a break for some kind of caregiving is something that happens a lot. Wellesley is a women's college, so that is an important part of&nbsp;many conversations. And then we’re also thinking about opportunities and programs for alums to connect with students as a part of career exploration. So, how can alums be a valuable resource for lived professional experience for students?&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;Was yours a role that always existed at Wellesley? Or at what point did you all decide to dig more into the&nbsp;alumnae&nbsp;piece?



DB:&nbsp;This did not always exist at Wellesley. About 10 years ago, the&nbsp;career center&nbsp;at Wellesley was reimagined and became what now we call&nbsp;Career&nbsp;Education. And at that time, with a very generous gift from an alum, we began to offer career advising for alums for their whole careers. So at that point in time, this role came into existence.



LW:&nbsp;Do you know what the thinking was behind that decision to invest more in&nbsp;alumnae engagement?



DB:&nbsp;It was a commitment to the idea that&nbsp;graduation&nbsp;isn't a stopping point for&nbsp;an intentional&nbsp;career journey. We do such good work&nbsp;around experiential learning to help&nbsp;students see that their professional identities, in a variety of ways, are integrated into their broader life experience, and it's not just one thread that you can pull out that then stops the moment you graduate. So if we are doing our work really well, students graduate and see&nbsp;their&nbsp;career journey is just that — a journey. It's something that you continue to tend to and&nbsp;navigate, as you build skills, build experiences, build connections, and explore.&nbsp;



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"If we are doing our work really well, students graduate and see&nbsp;their&nbsp;career journey is just that — a journey."
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And so that ability to continue to connect with Wellesley around networking and advising becomes really important. And we appreciate that requires an investment. It's an investment in staffing and in training and in funds. But it also helps our students to see that when we say that this is ongoing work, we mean that. We're here through the duration of that, and your fellow people in your Wellesley community are here for that.



LW:&nbsp;I like that because I imagine with Wellesley grads, who are so high performing, there could be a lot of that feeling like, “My first job needs to be my last.” Do you find that’s a pretty common sentiment?



DB:&nbsp;Yes, that is very true — true of Wellesley students and grads, but also more broadly. There is this sense that what comes on the other side of graduation needs to be right. You need to get it right. And helping graduates think about what does “right” mean for them, that is a values question. But also, what we know about the future of work is that having a flexible, skills-based approach that is grounded in some really solid experiential learning can prepare grads for a variety of first destination roles, with this kind of underlying assumption that there isn't a single “right” thing. There is just a thing that is going to utilize skills and experiences you've built and provide you with additional opportunities for meaning and growth so that you have a sense that what comes next is also important.



LW:&nbsp;Do you see trends in terms of the age or stage of&nbsp;alumnae who&nbsp;come to you most often?



DB:&nbsp;We do. So we think of engagement in two ways: individual advising appointments and then participation in a webinar, an event, a cohort,&nbsp;programming.&nbsp;In&nbsp;terms of appointments, probably 60 percent are 10 years out or less, and then about 40 percent are folks who are further along in their career.&nbsp;Engagement in&nbsp;programming, events, webinars, cohorts tends to be a bit more even across class years.&nbsp;



But we do see, in terms of advising, now that our model of engaging with alums throughout their whole career has been in place for a decade, our appointments are increasing. Because as you continue to have students who know, as they graduate, that this is an opportunity that remains available to them, they continue to engage.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;What about trends in industry or profession? Are there certain jobs you see&nbsp;alumnae&nbsp;come to you for help getting?



DB:&nbsp;I mean, there are trends for Wellesley students broadly, and our alum data tracks mostly with our first destination data in terms of industry. But we do see a five-years-out uptick, when many alums are entering a career transition: “I thought I was going to do X, and now I realize that is not the path I'm interested in pursuing. So what am I thinking of next?” You see it almost like clockwork. And while that uncertainty is hard, the ability to&nbsp;seek&nbsp;more intention than just checking a box and climbing a ladder is, in and of itself, a really positive thing.



LW:&nbsp;You mentioned individual advising as one key service. Are there others that you think of as being most impactful or popular?



DB:&nbsp;We do a yearly webinar&nbsp;series, which generally features alum panels with conversations about what it looks like to work in certain industries — human resources, environmental impact, patient-facing healthcare, biotech,&nbsp;consulting, all of these kinds of&nbsp;different industries. And so that gives alums an opportunity to hear from other alums working at various stages in their career and in various roles in a broader industry and then to continue to connect with those alums&nbsp;for career resources.&nbsp;



We also offer a program&nbsp;based on the Design Your Life program out of Stanford for alums who are in a place of transition and want to be in an alumnae&nbsp;cohort as they use that Design Your Life framework.&nbsp;The&nbsp;sessions are led by our&nbsp;alumnae&nbsp;career advisors, and we do those twice a year in a series.&nbsp;This is the fifth year, and participants find it very helpful.&nbsp;They&nbsp;bring a certain shared experience of their Wellesley time,&nbsp;which creates&nbsp;a foundation that feels safe and can be very generative.&nbsp;



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"They&nbsp;bring a certain shared experience of their Wellesley time,&nbsp;which creates&nbsp;a foundation that feels safe and can be very generative."
</blockquote>



LW:&nbsp;Do a lot of&nbsp;alumnae&nbsp;come to you with questions around changes in the workplace or for guidance around technology and A.I.-type skill building?



DB:&nbsp;We definitely do talk about upskilling. Because how people are thinking about skill development is shifting — I think rightfully so — in terms of the idea that you go in this kind of linear or vertical fashion, and then sometimes you need to stop and build a new skill, and then you continue up. It really is a much more fluid and ongoing approach. And you're always thinking about: What are your skills? What are your experiences? What tools do you need to onboard? And then those tools offboard, and something else comes along.&nbsp;



It's been really interesting. So much of just the career space is teaming with conversations about A.I. You can't escape it. But one of the threads that's coming through is the power of a really solid liberal arts&nbsp;education&nbsp;that helps as a foundation for navigating all of these changes. And we definitely see that's true.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;Do you see a throughline between your career services work with&nbsp;alumane&nbsp;and a generally more engaged culture of&nbsp;alumane, either with students or with each other?&nbsp;



DB:&nbsp;Wellesley does&nbsp;have a very&nbsp;strong&nbsp;alumane&nbsp;network. I also think there is a sense of being motivated toward sharing and generosity because people often remember a time of uncertainty, of vulnerability. And it's such an opportunity for people who felt, in their own experience, that there was an opening for support, for guidance, for information, when they see that they're now in a place to provide that.&nbsp;



And it gives a sense of perspective, especially in this moment.&nbsp;This is a challenging time for students to be graduating into the workforce, and having that voice of alums who have gone before can provide a sense of perspective: “I graduated in ‘08 when the collapse happened and what I came into also felt really challenging.” Just this ability to see that others have navigated different, but also challenging, experiences in a way that was ultimately successful for them can create&nbsp;a&nbsp;support line that&nbsp;is&nbsp;important for students who are graduating, and then also for the alums.



LW:&nbsp;Do you think that culture is also strengthened or unique in some ways because Wellesley is a women's college?



DB:&nbsp;I do. There seems to be this kind of structure when conversations happen within a Wellesley context that you have the expectation that you will be seen and heard, and you don't have to fight for that, which is really powerful.



You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at&nbsp;<a href="mailto:mames@learningwellmag.org">mames@learningwellmag.org</a>&nbsp;with comments, ideas, or tips.

Advising for Life

When Jaydn Decuir was looking at colleges, her father asked her an instructive question: “What is it you need to solve the problems you wish to solve?” She thought about her own community and how she hoped she could someday lessen the burden of gentrification on those who were displaced. She decided she would become a civil engineer. Her first choice was Howard University.&nbsp;



Students like Jaydn Decuir are the heart and soul of Howard. They are high-performing, civically engaged, and mindful of their positions as future Black professionals in careers where they’ve been historically underrepresented. The prestigious Research 1 university, which is also an H.B.C.U. (historically Black college and university), has graduated more African American Ph.D. recipients than any other university in the United States. Many of them serve in leadership positions focused on social justice.&nbsp;



Howard University is now engaged in a campus-wide character education initiative that takes all of this into account, as it considers how to codify, promote, and integrate character work throughout the university. In 2025, the university received a substantial Institutional Impact Grant from the Educating Character Initiative (E.C.I.) at Wake Forest University. Funded by the Lilly Endowment, the program seeds and studies character education programs at colleges and universities of diverse profiles across the United States. 



“What we do here is create leaders, and you cannot have those conversations or that training without talking about character,” said Dr. Dawn Williams, the interim provost and chief academic officer at Howard. “What this initiative allows us to do is name it, and study it, and that leads to capacity building and replication.”&nbsp;



The grant will help organize the formal and informal character education efforts already underway at Howard into a center. Research will inform an H.B.C.U.-based framework for character education that can be infused into the curriculum and shared with schools throughout the country. Perhaps most importantly, the work will help answer questions such as: What is different about character education at an H.B.C.U. with a rich legacy of social change? And what does character education look like for institutions that have both held it dear and been excluded from its record?&nbsp;



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What does character education look like for institutions that have both held it dear and been excluded from its record?&nbsp;
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“When you think about character, different things come to mind that may have been informed by books, experiences, or individuals,” said Dr. Jorge Burmicky, the principal investigator on the grant and faculty member at the Department of Educational Leadership and Policy Studies at Howard. “Now we get to add to that word — its meaning and traditions — from the perspective of our work here at Howard.”&nbsp;



Studying the Scholars



As a higher education scholar focused on racial equity, social justice, and leadership, Burmicky said the opportunity to lead the exploration of character at the nation’s premier H.B.C.U. was “by far my wildest dream.” Through a previous capacity building grant from the E.C.I., Burmicky had participated in&nbsp;the&nbsp;Common Good Character Trust project, where he met with other scholars and thought leaders to reimagine character education through a&nbsp;contextually relevant lens.&nbsp;&nbsp;



Burmicky said the first part of the project, which is housed within the provost’s office, aims to study and potentially transfer exemplars of character education that exist within the university. In seeking a baseline, he immediately consulted Ron Smith, the executive director of the Karsh STEM Scholars and the Humanities and Social Sciences Scholars programs at the university. Smith had been running these highly selective learning communities since 2016.&nbsp;



The Karsh program is modeled after the Meyerhoff Scholars program at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, with the expressed intention of addressing the underrepresentation of African Americans in STEM professions. Its unique capacity to nurture leaders of good character made it the ideal subject by which to assess and organize character education at Howard.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“Our programs are anchored by a set of values that can easily be discussed as building character within students,” Smith said. “We have expectations for our students on how to build community and to connect ourselves to what has always been central at Howard: our motto — Truth and Service — which runs deep through our veins.”&nbsp;



The signature component of these initiatives is the Summer Bridge Program (S.B.P.), a six-week curricular and co-curricular living-learning community for emerging leaders that is capped by a two-week study abroad component. While sharpening skills within their disciplines, the S.B.P. challenges student to think more critically about virtues such as justice, courage, empathy, self-awareness, and humility. It upholds eleven core values, including “be honest and earn the trust of others” and “be open to new ideas and different perspectives.”&nbsp;



As a Karsh Scholar, Jaydn Decuir became part of that community. She met her roommate and best friend on the first day of the S.B.P. and said her experience that summer will stay with her the rest of her life.&nbsp;



“I imagined the Summer Bridge Program to be technically-heavy, but it was so much more than that,” Decuir said. “We had so many discussions about what was happening around us, around the world, and what our viewpoints were on different issues. I am forever grateful for it.”&nbsp;





This holistic preparation is meant to equip students with skills beyond their disciplines, as they navigate graduate schools and professions that have unique challenges for students of color. In this way, the S.B.P. reflects what Burmicky outlined as some of the larger goals of the character initiative. “Our approach focuses on how students develop character by seeking truth, engaging diverse perspectives, and making ethical decisions, all while navigating their racial and ethnic identities,” he said.&nbsp;



Other reasons the S.B.P. became the organizing element for character work at Howard include the fact that it enjoys broad support throughout the university, with partnerships across departments; and it provides a robust laboratory for assessment.&nbsp;



“Since Karsh and the Summer Bridge Program have already been doing this work, the research allows us to learn from these experiences and transfer that learning to other areas of campus,” said Tatianna Duperier, a doctoral student at Howard who was hired through a partnership with the ASCEND (Alliance for Scholarship, Collaboration, Engagement, Networking and Development) initiative at Yale University to assist in the research.&nbsp;



This summer, Duperier will begin a series of student surveys and qualitative interviews that will be used to make improvements to the program while ideally serving as proof of concept for expanded character education throughout the university. Both Interim Provost Williams, and Burmicky believe the empirical evidence they will gather will inspire others on campus, particularly faculty.&nbsp;



“With this data, we can say to others within the university: ‘Look at what we’ve done at Karsh and the Summer Bridge Program,’” Burmicky said. “‘What are you doing that is similar in the engineering department, in the professional schools? How is our medical school preparing physicians for their careers though this lens?’”



Unpacking a Complex History&nbsp;



It was Martin Luther King Jr. who famously dreamed of a day when people would&nbsp;be judged not "by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” Indeed, the history of character — and character education — within the Black community is pervasive but also complicated by slavery and structures and policies that were not designed with communities of color in mind.&nbsp;



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It was Martin Luther King Jr. who famously dreamed of a day when people would be judged not "by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” 
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As part of the Howard initiative, Burmicky and his team are developing&nbsp;an H.B.C.U.-based theoretical model for character education and studying existing models and strategies for character education in higher education. In this work, they are looking at key considerations of character education through an H.B.C.U. lens, including the legacy of character within Black education and the paucity of Black-centric character education within the literature.&nbsp;



As Burmicky points out in the E.C.I. proposal, Black scholars refer to character education as the “raison d’etre” of H.B.C.U.s (Shaw, 2006), but little has been studied or written about it. While many higher education institutions in the United States have implemented character education, much of the documented empirical evidence has taken place at predominantly white institutions or from white or ethnocentric lenses. “The absence of Black students and culturally and racially responsive methods and epistemologies in these processes has been documented in the literature”&nbsp;(Burmicky et al., 2025, p. 5).



<div class="wp-block-media-text is-stacked-on-mobile" style="grid-template-columns:40% auto"><figure class="wp-block-media-text__media"><img src="https://live-learningwell-wp.pantheonsite.io/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/Image-1.jpg" alt="" class="wp-image-3438 size-full"/></figure><div class="wp-block-media-text__content">
Carol Moye serves as the E.C.I. grant’s director of assessment and program learning. She believes the exclusion of Black voices has had major implications for character in Black education and for the field of character education.&nbsp;







“One of the things we have to look at is the perception of character education — but from whose culture and whose viewpoint,” she said. “We have always had character in the Black community, but it did not present in the way people wanted us to be perceived. There was this sense that we would impose character on these people with the assumption they did not already have it. We need to turn this narrative around for our students and urge them to find the character they have and utilize it in the work that they do.”&nbsp;
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The character imposition notion contrasts starkly with the undeniably rich commitment H.B.C.U.s have to social justice and public service. Most definitions of character education include a beyond-the-self element and a desire to serve one’s community. At Howard, as in other H.B.C.U.s, this concept is foundational.&nbsp;



“Leadership for us has largely been about communal responsibility,” said Williams, who believes the most visible evidence of Howard’s commitment to service is the students themselves. “We don’t have to talk our students into being change-makers. That’s who we attract.”&nbsp;



Building a Unique Contribution&nbsp;



Given these strong traditions, the question may not be so much how to expand character education to include H.B.C.U.s as what the legacy of character work within H.B.C.U.s can add to the field of character education.



This is something that Michael Lamb, the senior executive director of the Program for Leadership and Character at Wake Forest University, will no doubt consider as they work to understand how character education is contextualized in diverse educational settings.&nbsp;



"As we like to say, character is for all but not one-size-fits-all,” Lamb said. “Different institutions have different ways of understanding&nbsp;and educating character. At the E.C.I., we're especially committed to helping institutions develop programs that fit their own institutional context and culture and to learning from them in the process.H.B.C.U.s have been educating character for generations, so they have much to teach us about how character can be developed&nbsp;in different contexts."&nbsp;



The final deliverables for Howard’s three-year grant include: the launch of the H.B.C.U. Character and Leadership Education Initiative at The Center for H.B.C.U. Research, Leadership, and Policy at Howard; and the development of a H.B.C.U.-based framework for character education that will be launched at a national convening, in conjunction with ASCEND, in 2028 at Yale University. The team hopes that, by then, the organizing effort they conducted at Howard, and the learning they will have shared, will benefit the university, the H.B.C.U. community, and all those who work to support character and social justice — what Howard calls Truth and Service.&nbsp;



You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at&nbsp;<a href="mailto:mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org">mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org</a>&nbsp;with&nbsp;comments, ideas, or tips.

Truth and Service

This September, The Wall Street Journal ranked Bentley University the 12th best college in America. Its criteria included considerations such as the institution’s impact on salary and how quickly the degree will pay for itself. While pleased with the bankable metrics, leaders at the Boston-based business university will tell you their real differentiator is fostering the personal formation of their students.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“We put a lot of emphasis on technical fluency and quantitative literacy, but what really makes the difference in the marketplace is the ability of our students to think critically, to communicate extemporaneously with comfort and poise, and to exhibit confidence, not hubris,” said Brent Chrite, President of Bentley University.



Helping students gain and demonstrate these attributes is the thinking behind BentleyPlus, a competency development program focused on encouraging experiences that lead to dispositions such as resiliency, purpose, and agency. While reflecting the business university's high regard for the liberal arts, BentleyPlus is a separate and intentional effort to get students to understand that marketable skills are not confined to the classroom.&nbsp;



BentleyPlus began as a pilot in 2021 and is now a university-wide effort combining career readiness with dimensions of wellbeing. The program involves four major pillars, starting with an introductory program where first-year students select two out of 11 competencies to work on throughout their time at Bentley.&nbsp;The competencies, such as ethical reasoning, leadership, and work ethic, are organized into three buckets: cognitive skills (Think), intrapersonal skills (Develop), and interpersonal skills (Act).&nbsp;&nbsp;



Students are then encouraged to pursue co-curricular experiences that help them develop these competencies — not by adding more to their plates but by making what they’re doing more meaningful. BentleyPlus advisors meet with students three times a year to help them reflect on their experiences and articulate their value. An awards ceremony with a BentleyPlus certificate completes the program. 



While a nod to the university’s holistic pedagogy, BentleyPlus also reflects a concern, among employers nationwide, about the lack of “durable” skills in entry-level employees — everything from communication and collaboration to grit and work ethic. Another factor driving the project is the persistent emotional and mental health issues college students and recent graduates are reporting, including disengagement with work and school post-pandemic.



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While a nod to the university’s holistic pedagogy, BentleyPlus also reflects a concern, among employers nationwide, about the lack of “durable” skills in entry-level employees.
</blockquote>



As vice president of student affairs, Andrew Shepardson has his eye on all of these phenomena. He sees BentleyPlus as more evidence of the university’s long history of student-centered education. In 2014, Gallup released the groundbreaking Gallup Alumni Survey, originally known as the Gallup-Purdue Index, showing the influence of certain college experiences on career readiness and wellbeing. Shortly afterward, Bentley became one of the first schools in the country to enlist Gallup in conducting its own alumni survey.&nbsp;



As with the national research, Bentley’s alumni reported higher levels of wellbeing correlated to experiences like “having professors who make me excited about learning,” “having someone who cared about me as a person,” and actively participating in extra-curricular activities.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“That information was huge for us in terms of sending a strong message to our students and faculty,” Shepardson said. “You may be a finance major fixated on working at a hedge fund, but you would really benefit from taking a discussion-based humanities course or working on an initiative off campus.”



Shepardson said that while students regularly participate in co-curriculars, he noticed they can struggle to articulate how these experiences transfer into skills in the marketplace. He recalled one example of a senior who became flummoxed when asked in a job interview how his experience as president of a club had helped prepare him for the position he was seeking.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“He made no connection between this significant leadership experience and what might be expected of him in the real world,” Shepardson said.&nbsp;



A natural partner for BentleyPlus was the team from the&nbsp;Pulsifer Career Development Center, who, as front-liners, recognized the importance of curating durable skills in addition to academics. “Our career folks thought this was phenomenal,” said Lauren Hubacheck, assistant vice president for student affairs. “They said, ‘We can do all the career development work with our students, but you all are connecting tangible stories that show skills like dialogue and leadership.’”&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;



While focused on competency building, BentleyPlus eventually took a stronger turn towards wellbeing, as Hubacheck and Shepardson began to see this as the through line in all of the work they were doing.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;



“Employers were telling us that the greatest number of leaves of absences were with entry-level employees and for wellbeing purposes,” Hubacheck said.&nbsp;



In talking with his staff and colleagues around the country, Shepardson was hearing about disengaged students whose anxiety was keeping them from talking with their professors or connecting with other students.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“It became apparent that wellbeing was the higher order,” Shepardson said. “We needed to give students a clear understanding that their ability to work on a competency was not going to be successful if they didn’t have that wellbeing piece in place right from the beginning.”



This year, BentleyPlus 2.0 was launched with its own strategic plan; a full-time associate dean, director, and assistant director; and a commitment from leadership to promote wellbeing in all aspects of university life.&nbsp;



The Underlying Competency&nbsp;



Rebecca&nbsp;Jimenez&nbsp;is the newly hired associate dean of wellbeing&nbsp;and&nbsp;BentleyPlus. She said she had her first “pinch me” moment when working the negative mindset table at orientation, where students were asked to select from an array of cards displaying unhelpful concepts like blame and self-doubt.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“I said to them, ‘Let’s work on how to change that,’ and they loved it. They did the exercise with such intention. I thought, Wow, they really care about this stuff.”&nbsp;



Jimenez&nbsp;had been working on what she calls “wellbeing communications,” an effort to help people understand what wellbeing means in their lives and to arrive at a definition that incorporates all of its associated elements. Often confused with wellness (mindfulness and yoga), wellbeing can mean different things to different people. After extensive research, Jimenez created a new wellbeing narrative for the university that is part of the BentleyPlus strategic plan.&nbsp;



“Wellbeing at Bentley is a dynamic balance of personal and community wellness, where students feel supported, connected, and empowered to flourish,” the plan now states. “It’s about caring for oneself, making intentional choices, nurturing meaningful relationships, and engaging in environments that promote joy, purpose and belonging.”&nbsp;



As part of the BentleyPlus first-year program, students take a wellbeing self-assessment and develop wellbeing goals to be addressed over time with their advisors. Right now, all of the BentleyPlus advisors are student affairs professionals, but the enthusiasm they convey in working one-on-one with students has attracted the interest of other community members, including faculty.&nbsp;&nbsp;



For&nbsp;Jimenez, bringing BentleyPlus into the classroom is an important next step.&nbsp;



“Not only can we make wellbeing front and center in the classroom, we can help faculty connect what they are doing with wellbeing outcomes. We can help them say out loud to their students: ‘What we’re doing here is critical thinking.’”&nbsp;



As with the pilot, the new version of BentleyPlus has the strong backing of career services. Staff there suggested that first-year students participate in the wellbeing self-assessment prior to a popular career development course, acknowledging that wellbeing work proceeds career prep. Perhaps most significant is the new way they encourage graduating students to consider their career choices.&nbsp;



With support from BentleyPlus, they now ask: “Does the organization you are interviewing with align with who you are as a person? Do they value building relationships and connecting with others?”&nbsp;



These may just be the questions today’s employers are waiting to hear.&nbsp;



You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at&nbsp;<a href="mailto:mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org">mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org</a>&nbsp;with comments, ideas, or tips.

BentleyPlus

Questions and Answers with Wendy Kopp

Like many educators during the pandemic, Kevin R. McClure felt the burnout. Faculty members were juggling research and leadership responsibilities, teaching and helping students, while navigating their own personal issues and watching colleagues struggle. As chair of the Department of Educational Leadership at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington, he began writing and speaking about these challenges and the coinciding tide of resignations. Institutional leaders and journalists tuned in for insight into why so many employees were disengaging — and what colleges could do differently to retain their people.



Those conversations culminated in “The Caring University: Reimagining the Higher Education Workplace After the Great Resignation”&nbsp;(2025), a book that argues burnout is not an individual failure but a signal of deeper organizational problems. His research on college leadership, workplace culture, and organizational care helps campus leaders to build institutions where doing meaningful work isn’t to their own people’s detriment.&nbsp;



LearningWell connected with McClure to discuss what it looks like when a university takes steps to prioritize its employees and the difference that effort makes in engagement.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;Let’s start by looking at what it means for a university to be a caring institution. Why are we talking about this for higher education in a way that differs from, say, a grocery store chain?



KM:&nbsp;Higher education has not done a great job of prioritizing the wellbeing of staff and faculty. That's not to say that it is worse than other industries per se, but we aren’t knocking it out of the park. Based on data that I collected through interviews with over 150 staff, faculty, and leaders across the country, what I heard over and over again was this question about whether or not this is a place that really cares about me. There was a feeling that they were expendable — that their health came second or third to other priorities that the institution had — and it was willing, in some cases, to sacrifice the health of some employees. This was particularly evident during the pandemic. We’d see a certain kind of comfort with the idea that we're just going to lose people and either not replace them and absorb some of those cost savings or just repost the position expecting that people will line up to take it — a kind of churn and burn.



As I was doing these interviews, I heard a fair amount of pain from people on a regular basis. These are institutions that are dedicated to human growth and development, and we should be the world leader as employers. There was a time where we had the ability to point to indicators that we are leaders in certain regards, and that's harder to claim today. And so it's really an invitation for those of us that work in higher ed — those of us who are leaders in higher ed — to say we can do better than this.&nbsp;



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"There was a feeling that they were expendable — that their health came second or third to other priorities that the institution had."
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LW:&nbsp;What did the great resignation look like in higher ed, and what did it reveal about universities as a workplace?



KM:&nbsp;We certainly saw a number of people who left, and there was pretty heavy recruitment of people into ed tech as kind of an adjacent industry selling products and services to higher education. And we saw a number of people looking for places better aligned with their values or places where they might get slightly better pay or slightly more flexibility. And so similar to other parts of the great resignation, it wasn't necessarily people leaving work all together so much as it was this kind of great shakeup of people moving jobs.&nbsp;



The part that makes it somewhat unique is that higher education employees don't always have a ton of mobility options. They may be in a particular field where there are only a handful of jobs open in a given year, and their ability to just move somewhere else is quite limited. A fraction of them have job security through a tenure system, which only actually works out to about a quarter of faculty. So in higher education, a great resignation looks a little different because of these other dynamics at play. The question becomes: What are we as an institution going to do differently to attract and keep really talented people? And very often, the answer was that there wasn’t much of anything happening in response to that.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;Your book makes a strong case that employee wellbeing is foundational to student wellness and institutional success. What does that look like on campus? How do students and the whole school benefit when faculty are happier and doing well?



KM: When you look at some of the things that we know about student success, they include things like sense of belonging, a sense of mattering, doing work that is meaningful, feeling included, and getting engaged in the life of the institution. They're all concepts that have a similar if not identical concept when it comes to retaining and attracting employees. And it's because a lot of these things are just base-level, fundamental components of what humans need in order to be healthy and thrive. As we've had all these conversations about student success, I've been trying to point out the fact that these are all things that are good for employees as well. We don't have to just think of them as things for students. What this book is trying to do is to push us to not necessarily think in terms of specific populations but to say we are a community of learners, and we ought to be thinking across the entire organization about some of these things. And if we do that, I think we are going to see downstream benefits and outcomes for students.  



You know, students are smart and perceptive, and they pick up on when an institution is thinly staffed and when faculty and staff seem really stressed. They're able to pick up on P.R. spin and prestige games that institutions play. And they have an awareness, I think, of an institution where things are imbalanced, and they can feel it really acutely when somebody leaves — when they lose a mentor or someone on campus that has been important to them. And so if we think about foundational conditions for a community to do well and to be well, we need to say instead that this is something that's good for everybody.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;You’re clear that care isn’t a matter of band-aid solutions like extra wellness days. What does institutional care look like when it’s embedded in policies and structures beyond encouraging people to, say, make sure they get out and take a walk?



KM:&nbsp;Institutions have often relied on that more individualized type of response to challenging workplace conditions: Don't overwork. Don't say yes to too many things. As you put it, go take a walk. We've put a lot of onus on individuals to navigate through this themselves, and my argument is not necessarily that we should throw out self-care. Everybody should be thinking about the choices that they're making.



But when you look at the root causes of some of these workplace problems, they are often structural and cultural — a reflection of choices that we make across the organization, our strategic planning, and the priorities that we set. When we set goals, we need to ask how they are going to affect our people and what additional capacity we are asking of them as a result. It means looking at some of our practices and policies and whether they're really designed for the realities of living, breathing humans with caregiving responsibilities and health limitations. Oftentimes, our practices and policies are designed for people that are robots or don't have any kind of demands of a body.



LW:&nbsp;In the book, you critique the idea of the “ideal worker” in higher education — the myth of the teacher constantly available to be a life-changing mentor for students. How does this myth of “The Giving Tree” professor affect not only employees but also the learning environments we create for students?



KM:&nbsp;There is a real need for us to be thinking about workload and establishing some real guardrails to prevent that sort of thing from happening. Yes, it's up to people on their own to parse out how they should be handling these things. But often we've got reward and recognition systems that are based on the idea that the more productive and performative that you are, the more likely you are to be recognized, so there's kind of an inbuilt incentive for people to go above and beyond. We don’t want to take away incentives for honoring work that is good and valuable to the institution. But we also don’t want to suggest that just because someone&nbsp;is&nbsp;setting some healthy boundaries on what they take on that they are considered someone who's not pulling their weight.



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"We don’t want to suggest that just because someone is setting some healthy boundaries on what they take on that they are considered someone who's not pulling their weight."
</blockquote>



LW:&nbsp;It’s hard to determine what an appropriate level of engagement is — how much to put yourself out there and pull your weight — particularly when we’re talking about supporting students and colleagues. Is there a way the university could be better involved in modeling expectations?



KM:&nbsp;Of course there’s some nuance with this, and it gets a little bit complex, but I do think that there is a role to be played by leaders in modeling what this can look like. When there’s an opportunity for any of us in leadership roles to show what a healthy boundary looks like for newer people that are coming in, it makes it a little bit easier for them to make that choice — to not feel like they're going against the grain — because this is the norm. If we as leaders have a situation where someone is clearly overwhelmed, we need to take some steps to help and say, “Hey, you've got too many students that you're mentoring right now. Our norm is closer to eight, and we see that you've got 15. Let’s figure out a system so that we can better distribute this so it's not entirely on your shoulders.”



LW:&nbsp;What makes it harder is that it’s personal. Employees aren’t building widgets. They’re investing time in helping colleagues or developing a young person in their field looking for guidance.



KM:&nbsp;All of it's very personal. The reality is that most of us are people who got into this work because we really believe it's important. It's meaningful to us. So much of our scholarly work is collaborative, and we have commitments and obligations to other people. It feels very hard sometimes to pull back on that because it feels like you're risking some of those relationships or failing to show up for people you care about.&nbsp;



But again, there's a real role in setting healthy expectations — expectations for people who are seeking promotion, for example, that aren’t over the moon, but reasonable.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;Higher education tends to be good at measuring enrollment, retention, and revenue. How could institutions think differently about measuring wellbeing — for employees and students — and following through?



KM:&nbsp;A basic level is we probably should be collecting more data that better gets at the employee experience. Right now, we do very little of this beyond a periodic employee engagement survey. There might be some exit interviews that happen as someone leaves, but even that can be very sporadic. And so the bar right now is quite low in terms of what we do. Anything that we do above that is going to be a step in the right direction. Then, once we better understand who our employees are and what their experience is on the job, we can make sure we've got capacity to analyze that data and that it doesn't just sit on a shelf.



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"People have to start believing that this is a system worth investing in."
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We have at our disposal at colleges and universities people who are trained in social science research, and there's no reason why we couldn't be figuring out some better ways of designing studies to better understand the employee experience and improvements that we can make. Too often institutions collect data, but then they don't act on it. And then people lose faith that this is a process that's going to lead to change, and then they opt out of doing it in the future. People have to start believing that this is a system worth investing in.



LW:&nbsp;Do you have some examples of universities doing it well?



KM:&nbsp;Almost every positive example in the book begins with some type of data collection effort. They are starting from a position of: “Let's get a better handle on what the problem is — specific to our institution, our culture — and then let's design something that speaks specifically to us.”&nbsp;



One of the issues that I flag in the book is about the lack of career advancement and career pathways. There's a great example from Miami University in Ohio where a marketing communications department had lost a significant number of people. They began with an employee culture survey, and through that, they identified that the biggest issue was people felt like there wasn't room to grow, particularly people that were not interested in being supervisors. From that, they designed a new career pathway model — one for people that wanted to supervise and one for folks that didn't. There is another example at the University of Louisville that identified the need to pay better attention to the employee experience. They now have a dedicated staff that is working on better onboarding, better recognition systems, better employee training, and I think that has been a smashing success.&nbsp;



LW:&nbsp;It’s such a time of change right now. Are there already new things you wish you could add or adjust in the book?



KM:&nbsp;I feel like I should write an epilogue! We're in a moment that makes all of this more complicated. I mean, how do you show care for people that are coming to join your faculty from other countries, when it doesn't feel like the door is quite as open or students that have come here to study are being detained?&nbsp;



Politically speaking, we have institutions that have had sources of revenue disrupted or cut, so they have less to work with. It’s very difficult to try to pursue a model of organizational care at the same time that you're laying people off. We have spaces where there's real challenges with enrollment decline.&nbsp;



A lot of this is not symbolic or hypothetical anymore, and we will see the consequences of that over time. That's the world we live in right now, and those of us still in it are trying to do the very good work with students, and remain hopeful.

Building a More Caring University

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This story from University of Connecticut student Myles Tate-Alsgaard poignantly captures his developmental stagnation. In a self-aware and poetic story, Myles describes his evolution as a jazz bass player and the ways his own personal development have stalled alongside his dedication to music. The story demonstrates what it means to feel in between adolescence and adulthood.



To learn more about Storytelling, visit <a href="https://www.olin.edu/thestorylab">Olin College's Story Lab website here</a>.

Storytelling | "Some Kind of Blue," Myles Tate Alsgaard

Peter McGinnes is a pre-medical neuroscience student at Stanford University whose lived experience with a suicide attempt has shaped his path. Today, he channels that experience into advocating for better access to mental health care, particularly for students.



Every year, thousands of students in mental health crises are left searching for resources. What if, printed on their university ID card, were three digits that could make reaching out for help just that much easier?



People often imagine suicide as dramatic or obvious, but that usually is not the case. Most students struggle silently, showing up to class, keeping up appearances, while feeling increasingly isolated and overwhelmed. That silence is exactly what makes it so hard to notice, and why accessible resources matter.



I know, because I’ve been there. As a teenager, I felt trapped, convinced no one could understand. My grades stayed high, my face appeared calm, but internally, I was breaking down. Mental health resources were hidden behind webpages and brochures that no one gave a second thought. I didn’t know there was a national hotline, much less that calling it could mean someone would listen.



I spiraled until I couldn’t anymore. I attempted to take my life and spent two months in a residential treatment center. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who could relate to my pain. I learned to sit with my thoughts instead of drowning in them. I left stronger, but still fragile.



Months later, I saw a poster in my doctor’s office: “988 – National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.” The numbers stuck with me like a song lyric you hum without thinking. Later that month, I was sitting in bed at my grandmother’s house, heart racing, chest tight, feeling like silence might swallow me whole. I dialed the three numbers.&nbsp;



On the other end was a calm voice. Someone who didn’t rush or judge me. We talked through coping strategies, and by the end of the call, I wasn’t magically healed, but the fog had lifted just enough for me to keep going. In that moment, that was all I could ask for.



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I saw a poster in my doctor’s office: "988 – National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline." Later that month, I was sitting in bed at my grandmother’s house, heart racing, chest tight, feeling like silence might swallow me whole. I dialed the three numbers. 
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That night taught me the power of a small, timely gesture.&nbsp;In behavioral science, they call it a&nbsp;<a href="https://archive.blogs.harvard.edu/nudge/what-is-a-nudge/">nudge</a>:&nbsp;a simple change in how choices are presented that makes a better outcome more likely.&nbsp;Think about putting vegetables at eye level in a grocery store instead of banning junk food. The choice remains, but the path to the healthier option becomes clearer. For someone in crisis, seeing three digits on their student ID card could work the same way. The difference between knowing or not knowing about 988 could be the difference between spiraling and picking up the phone.



The 988 National Suicide and Crisis Lifeline is a 24/7/365, publicly-funded&nbsp;<a href="https://www.samhsa.gov/mental-health/988/performance-metrics">resource</a>&nbsp;that&nbsp;has been&nbsp;<a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/sltb.70020">shown</a>&nbsp;to save lives. The&nbsp;problem is awareness.&nbsp;According to a 2024&nbsp;<a href="https://www.nami.org/research/publications-reports/survey-reports/poll-of-public-perspectives-on-988-crisis-response-2024/">poll</a>&nbsp;by the National Alliance on Mental Illness,&nbsp;fewer than one in four Americans are even “somewhat familiar” with 988. That means millions of people could be reaching for help without knowing the resource exists.&nbsp;



Students are particularly vulnerable.&nbsp;Suicide is the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/hus/topics/suicide.htm">second leading cause</a>&nbsp;of death for people ages 15-24.&nbsp;And college counseling centers are&nbsp;overwhelmed with wait times that stretch for&nbsp;<a href="https://www.nea.org/nea-today/all-news-articles/mental-health-crisis-college-campuses">several weeks</a>. In moments of acute crisis, students cannot afford to wait until their next appointment or go searching through Google for resources. They need support in the moment.



That’s why printing 988 on student ID cards matters. Contact with 988 is on the rise. In just a year,&nbsp;calls to the lifeline&nbsp;<a href="https://www.cnn.com/2023/01/19/health/988-lifeline-first-six-months-cnn-analysis/index.html">rose</a>&nbsp;by 48 percent and texts by 1445 percent, a clear sign that, as the visibility and accessibility of the number increase, so does its use. Printing 988 on an ID card, an item students carry everywhere, means they don’t have to remember a poster or navigate a website in a moment of panic. The number is right there.



What makes this initiative so powerful is how little it costs. Universities already reprint IDs regularly. Adding three digits is a minor design tweak. Schools spend thousands on wellness campaigns and programming; yet this simple step might reach more students than all of those efforts combined.&nbsp;



Some states are already leading the way.&nbsp;<a href="https://www.nysenate.gov/legislation/bills/2023/S1865/amendment/original">New York</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="https://law.lis.virginia.gov/vacode/title23.1/chapter8/section23.1-802.1/">Virginia</a>, for example, have passed laws requiring schools to include 988 on student ID cards. That progress is encouraging, but a patchwork approach isn’t enough. Mental health crises don’t stop at state borders, and neither should access to lifesaving numbers.



That’s why national advocacy is critical. As a council member for the Coalition for Student Wellbeing (C4SW), I have seen firsthand how powerful coordinated action can be. <a href="https://www.c4sw.org">C4SW’s mission</a> is simple:&nbsp;bridge the gap between students and decision-makers through advocacy, collaboration, and education. Printing 988 on IDs is exactly the kind of systemic fix we aim to achieve. That is why the&nbsp;coalition has launched a&nbsp;<a href="https://c4sw.substack.com/p/news-coalition-for-student-wellbeing-ee4">national advocacy campaign</a>&nbsp;to add 988 to student ID cards.



I am still here today, not because I am stronger than anyone else, but because in a moment of silence, help was within reach.&nbsp;



Universities can make this change now. Legislators can make it standard nationwide. This is not about saving every life; no single policy can do that. It is about ensuring that every student has a fighting chance to reach for help when they need it most.

A Simple Step for Schools to Save Lives

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Many 18-year-olds who step onto campus hungry for possibility may not believe that four years later, they could walk across the graduation stage feeling more uncertain than ever. While it is easy to blame the students, this all-too-often outcome is reflective of the failure of a higher education system that has become exemplary at producing compliant students but far less so at encouraging creative thinkers.&nbsp;



As someone who feels privileged for my positive college experience and the post-graduation time that followed, I can’t help but wonder how a different set of expectations could have benefited me and my generation. What if, instead of striving for measures of output that stay with us temporarily (the conveyor belt model), we were encouraged to build intellectual capacities that stay with us forever (the creative engine model). Maybe then Gen Z would feel more engaged, more fulfilled, more productive, and more prepared for our careers.&nbsp;



The Conveyor Belt Model&nbsp;



Many colleges have done an excellent job of building a culture of pressure, comparison, and G.P.A. obsession. Often, this consists of rigid majors and predetermined career tracks. Creativity is often treated as a “less important” extracurricular, not central to learning. This results in decreased risk-taking within our learning. My post-grad friends are often reporting a LinkedIn doom scroll, chronic burnout (already), anxiety, and a loss of intrinsic motivation to “do.”&nbsp;



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It’s not that Gen Z can’t handle college; it’s that college isn’t exactly handling Gen Z. 
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We grew up in a world far from predictable — with limitless information, an unstable economy, mental health challenges, environmental concerns, rapid growth in technology and media, political polarization, and socio-cultural vulnerability, especially for marginalized groups. Older generations may mistake Gen Z burnout for fragility, but I argue this interpretation misses the point. The learning ecosystem within which Gen Z currently operates is built on dated values and old assumptions. It’s not that Gen Z can’t handle college; it’s that college isn’t exactly handling Gen Z.&nbsp;



The Creative Engine Model&nbsp;



As opposed to the conveyor belt producing students who can check the boxes, fostering creative learning environments for students could help Gen Zers achieve improved wellbeing and more success entering the workforce.&nbsp;



Believe it or not, Gen Z students want&nbsp;“<a href="https://www.ascd.org/el/articles/the-uncheatable-projects-students-want">uncheatable projects</a>,”&nbsp;as coined by educational consultant Michael Hernandez in a pedagogical philosophy I explored in my final undergraduate education course. This approach includes&nbsp;transitioning traditional assignments into multimedia projects where the motivation is the experience itself, not the output (the grade). This drives student engagement and works against the conveyor belt model. It encourages intrinsic curiosities and passions, rather than shallow memorization, translating into longer-lasting learning. It avoids the infinite “Whac-A-Mole” (referenced by Hernandez) of repetitively policing new shortcuts students use — especially as A.I. tools rapidly evolve — as the desire to learn comes from within. In this model, students can strategically implement tools to improve their work, rather than resorting to abusing them. The truth is if Gen Z students want to cut corners, they will figure out how to do so quicker than educators can ever stop them. This method faces that head on, utilizing purpose and personal connection.&nbsp;



Creativity and passion must be treated as learning priorities, rather than extracurricular activities that come second to classroom work. My peers hustled in their internships, extracurricular activities, and jobs; yet we were trained to say, “School comes first.” Shouldn’t they both matter? How can these extracurricular learning opportunities work hand in hand with class to enhance one another? Think back to high school: Can you recall the answers from a random exam? Likely not. How about your favorite field trip or project? More likely. The same cognitive processes of creating long-lasting learning align from younger to older ages, especially when uniquely tailored to the students to feel more meaningful and less flat.&nbsp;



Please, encourage us to fail.&nbsp;



Often, the penalization of making mistakes in the current system makes it undesirable to fail. In that context, no one would take the risk to mess up. One way to combat this is through less conventional, interdisciplinary studies. The less binary the answers, the better. This is more holistically reflective of the real world we live in after all. Another is through ensuring students are met with an elaborate support system of relationships that make them feel safe enough to fail. This support system is essential — a mutual system of care. We are constantly encouraged not to fail but seldom learn how to fail, learn, and recover.&nbsp;



A great example of this is the makerspace model.&nbsp;



A makerspace is a welcoming, hands-on environment with tools and resources to collaboratively design, explore, tinker, and create. Access and encouragement to use this kind of model should be broader than just in STEAM (science, technology, engineering, art, and mathematics), as it trains us to navigate uncertainty and to problem solve with confidence and resilience in a community.



As we add risk to our education journey, we ask that educators in higher education do the same. Changing a system is unpredictable and entering the unknown is often not a desirable route. But, we cannot keep fostering the conveyor belt culture when learners’ potential deserves so much more, particularly in these rapidly changing times. Educators and students alike must agree to learn together through a transition, taking reflective and precise note of what works and what should be changed.&nbsp;



We need a more humane and timely college experience to better prepare students to walk the graduation stage.&nbsp;



One that treats creativity as an essential skill, not a hobby.



One that treats risky exploration as productive, not wasteful.



One that avoids treating students as empty vessels to be filled with information to reproduce. 



This may not change the job market that Gen Z faces, but creating the opportunity to support young people to tackle the complex issues of today’s society far better prepares them for the post-graduation transition they face. We have the potential to graduate an energized cohort of young people by imagining boldly, questioning deeply, and re-building creatively. I am inspired by my generation, and our post-secondary education system should consider how to more effectively support our potential.&nbsp;



Nicole LeVee graduated from American University in 2025 and is pursuing her master's degree in learning development and family services at the University of Colorado Denver.

College should Be a Creative Engine — Not a Conveyor Belt 

Listen Here:



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Since its founding in 1863, Boston College, like many Jesuit institutions, has practiced “whole person” teaching, powered by the belief that one learns in multi-dimensional ways well beyond subject matter knowledge and vocational training. Over the last 20 years, B.C. has devoted particular time and resources to developing its approach and becoming a leader in the larger field, known as “formative education.”&nbsp;&nbsp;



The university in Chestnut Hill, Mass. now has a formative education department within the Lynch School of Education and Human Development and has recently launched a campus-wide Transformative Education Lab (TLab), an interdisciplinary research and innovation hub dedicated to advancing the theory and practice of formative education.  



“We’ve been building up a particular vision of what education for undergraduate students should be about,” said Stanton Wortham, dean of the Lynch School. “Formative education is this notion of integrated or holistic approaches that are not just intellectual and not just vocational but include an interconnected set of social, emotional, ethical, and spiritual questions and developments.”



Wortham said the lab is designed to clarify and promote formative education so that it may benefit other institutions, both K-12 and higher education. Its first mission is to share best practices, through the literature and by convening people who are doing this work. Secondly, the lab will focus on the research on the method itself, with an intention to distinguish it from other practices such as social and emotional learning or character education.&nbsp;&nbsp;



“All of those things are good but what we are doing here is different and has something special to offer,” Wortham said. “The purpose of the lab is to articulate that and present it to people more broadly.”&nbsp;



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“What we often do with children is just teach academic material, mostly through memorization, when what we need to do is ask them what kind of person they want to be.”
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According to Wortham, formative education has four distinctions: It focuses on intrinsic ends, developing dispositions that stay with us for life; it centers both individual and community development so that young people are disposed to contribute to the common good; it is holistic, acknowledging the multiple dimensions within which young people develop — emotionally, relationally, civically, ethically, and spiritually; and it includes an&nbsp;emphasis on purpose, on discerning what we are called to do.



Deoksoon Kim is a Lynch School professor in the Teaching, Curriculum, and Society department and a strong believer in how the right kind of education can change people’s lives. As the inaugural director of the TLab, she seeks to seed within other institutions a method she believes can lead to personal growth in a way that other pedagogies cannot quite match.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;



“What we often do with children is just teach academic material, mostly through memorization, when what we need to do is ask them what kind of person they want to be,” Kim said. “As an educator, I really wanted to make differences in people’s lives and in the world. This work really gave me a deeper sense of who I am and what I want to be doing.”



Kim has an ambitious blueprint for the TLab that includes three major strategies announced at the launch. In an effort to jump start and share new ideas, the TLab will hold a K-12 Formative Education Grant Competition which identifies and supports promising practices in schools, after-school programs, and community-based learning environments.&nbsp;&nbsp;



In summer 2026, the TLab will host an intensive professional development institute designed to prepare K-12 educators and leaders to implement formative education practices in their teaching and leadership. And in October 2026, the TLab will hold its inaugural conference on formative education, bringing together scholars and practitioners from around the country and the world in both K-12 and higher education.&nbsp;&nbsp;



Kim said developing the TLab to help expand the formative education pedagogy within higher education is a major goal. It is part of what she hopes will address a narrow focus on academic standards that she and others believe has “gone too far.”



“This is a great kind of a movement we are in — one that broadens education to be about meaning, character and purpose,” Kim said. “This is what we need to do to transform higher education.”&nbsp;&nbsp;



You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at&nbsp;<a href="mailto:mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org">mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org</a>&nbsp;with&nbsp;comments, ideas, or tips.

The Art and Science of Formative Education 

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On this month's episode of LearningWell Radio, Marjorie Malpiede talks with Beth McMurtrie of The Chronicle of Higher Education about new research on A.I. and student cognition.



Listen now on <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/19yyTJflJWjD0w40rgPozu">Spotify</a> or <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/learningwell-radio/id1732284927">Apple Podcasts</a>.