I used to think that the biggest barriers to getting involved in college activities were fairly obvious. Perhaps students did not have enough time. Perhaps they could not afford an unpaid internship. Perhaps they were intimidated by a competitive application process. Those barriers are real. But after spending the last year talking to other students about how they find opportunities at Lehigh University, I began to notice another issue that was much harder to see: Sometimes students merely do not know where to look.

As part of my work with ImpactTrails, a Lehigh University initiative focused on creating equitable pathways for students to participate in high-impact practices, we interviewed approximately 98 students about their experiences with research, internships, mentorship, community engagement, and other opportunities outside the traditional classroom. How had these students heard about a research position? Who told them about an internship? Had they gone looking for an opportunity, or had an opportunity happened to find them? Did they know which office to contact, which professor to email, or even what kinds of programs were available to them given their work-study status, major, family commitments, or financial commitments?

The answers were undeniably, remarkably varied. Some students seemed to have an intuitive understanding of how to navigate college. They knew that they could approach professors about research. They knew where internships and fellowships were advertised, and they talked to everyone they could to find opportunities suited to them. At ImpactTrails, we call these kinds of students “explorers.” Other students, meanwhile, were figuring out these things for the first time. They were just as curious and ambitious, but they were spending part of their college experience learning how the Lehigh world worked before they could fully take advantage of what it offered.

Instead of asking students to know the name of a program prior to searching for it, we wanted the tool to begin with the student.

Universities spend a great deal of time discussing the importance of high-impact practices. We encourage students to conduct research, get internships, work with mentors, study abroad, engage with their communities, and apply what they learn in the classroom to the world around them. According to a survey by the National Association of Colleges and Employers, early career professionals who participated in experiential learning reported earning an average of $15,000 more each year. These experiences can also be some of the most meaningful in a college education. But we often talk about them as though the process begins when a student decides to apply. My conversations with students made me realize that it begins much earlier. It begins with knowing that an opportunity not only exists but is open and accessible to all.

At Lehigh, we began experimenting with ways of making the discovery process easier and more equitable. We developed an AI advising chatbot connected to Lehigh360, a platform designed to assist students in finding opportunities across the university. Instead of asking students to know the name of a program prior to searching for it, we wanted the tool to begin with the student. A student could describe their interests, goals, and what kind of experience they were looking for given their financial status or other commitments, and the chatbot could point them toward programs that might be a good fit.

The idea was not to create an artificial academic advisor or suggest that technology could replace the people who make Lehigh meaningful. In fact, at Lehigh, we have Opportunity Guides. These are trained students who are well versed in the high-impact practices offered on campus and serve as advisors in the Lehigh360 office to assist students with finding the right opportunities for them. However, we wanted to make the first step easier. If students know they want to get involved in research but have no idea what kind, where to search, or whom to contact, perhaps a conversation with a chatbot can give them somewhere to begin.

We tested the advising hub with students and asked them what they thought after using it. Their feedback was encouraging, particularly because it indicated progress on the problem we were actually trying to solve. Students liked having information about different programs brought together in one place, and several said the tool helped them discover programs they had not previously known about. “It reminded me of something I wanted to apply for,” one student said. Another added that it could help new students “not miss opportunities.”

That approach has changed how I think about the word “access.” An opportunity can be available without being accessible.

These results raised a new question for me: Why not expand the tool to include programs that  are not considered high-impact practices? After all, students might identify high-impact opportunities of interest only to find that they can’t engage for various reasons. A research experience might require hours that conflict with a student's job. An internship might involve travel that a student cannot afford. A program might have an application process that is technically public but difficult to understand. A student might want to participate but have no idea whom to contact before applying. The opportunity is there, but the path to it is not equally navigable for everyone.

That realization led me to develop a High-Impact Opportunity Audit Tool, or HI-OAT. Rather than looking only at whether an experience provides meaningful learning, the tool asks what the experience looks like holistically from the student's side. It considers sustained engagement, mentorship, collaboration, feedback, real-world application, and reflection, but it also examines transparency, financial accessibility, disability accessibility, advising, navigation support, and whether programs accommodate students with different needs and schedules. That approach has changed how I think about the word “access.” An opportunity can be available without being accessible. A university can offer an incredible program, advertise it on its website, and accept applications, and still have students who never hear about it or who cannot realistically participate. The audit tool therefore also looks at whether programs collect student feedback, track outcomes, and use that data to improve the experience over time.

I do not think the answer is to turn advising over to artificial intelligence. Some of the most important opportunities students find in college will always come through people. A professor notices an interest and suggests a research project; a friend sends a fellowship application; a mentor encourages a student to apply for something she never thought she was qualified for. These are the moments that cannot be reduced to a recommendation algorithm. But universities can make it easier for those moments to happen. They can make their opportunities easier to discover. They can examine whether their programs are genuinely accessible. They can ask students where they get stuck and take those answers seriously. And they can recognize that not every student arrives knowing how to navigate a complicated institution. Sometimes the first step toward making an opportunity more accessible is simply making sure a student can see it.

Ayah Mallah is a sophomore at Lehigh University.